A Match to Tinder

by anesor

Summary:

What comes after the battle's been won and bridges have been burned? Leaving Kirkwall and staying ahead of both the Templars and many threats of Vengeance. Hawke and Anders flee as fugitives, looking for both answers and meaning after betrayal and destruction.

Starts immediately after the reinforcements step back in the Gallows.

Chapter 1: Battle's End

-- Kirkwall, the Gallows

Anders:

Cullen glared at me, his breath heaving in the sudden silence after Meredith ceased to be mortal. The other Templar checked on the new statue even as the last echoes from the broken statues' fall stopped too. I could feel Justice watching around us warily, his rage slightly drained.

Cullen knew me from when I was still frequently getting out from the Circle in Ferelden, and for years he didn't quite take me seriously as escaping was almost a game for me there. Before my last recapture, I'd always come back peacefully, never again. Irving was long dead now, and Cullen had been hardened by what had happened there after my last escape. The Warden knew more than I did about that disaster and I'd believed what she'd said about what happened to Cullen there.

I'd been surprised when Cullen tried to relieve Meredith of her command, they'd presented such a united front in public.

Hawke had stilled when Cullen spoke for an instant, could it have been that simple? Yet Meredith refused to step down, and... lyrium spawned giants walked and killed in the Gallows.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but Meredith made me far more of a target than Bethany or Aldera. So I fought on two fronts, keeping away from the strange abomination that was Meredith enough to heal others as she attacked, and arguing to Justice that Hawke's group would do far more damage that I could alone against the Templars, let alone whatever Meredith became. Justice still sometimes forgot he wasn't a warrior anymore. Unspoken was my knowing Hawke would be in the thick of the fighting, and she did not have the same toughness as Aveline or Fenris. Bethany had grown in power since her Joining, and Merrill was strong too, but neither of them had much of the healing magics, so I had to be careful if I wanted to heal Hawke. In the dark of the last few nights I'd held Hawke as she slept and I treasured the last dregs of her serenity, knowing that something like this was to come.

More of Hawke's people stayed with her or rejoined than I'd expected after my strike at the Chantry. Not that I expected what Meredith became, I'd have expected to have to fight a lot of Templars to get to her. The slaughter of the Templars within the Gallows and in the first few seconds of Meredith's rampage, said this had moved beyond a Rite of Annulment.

I could see the frustration in Cullen's eyes but he stepped back, as did all the other fresh and uninjured Templars who entered the square only after the battle was over. A few looked familiar from the last few years, but they all stepped back, leaving us a path to the gate without a word.

Hawke took the first step towards the gate, and then we all began a tired march away, watching for attacks. Aveline and Donnic drifted closer as they marched, and she smiled at her husband grimly. Fenris glared at me between his visual sweeps, looking for attackers. I'd been sure both of them were going to try to imprison or kill me from what they usually said about mages and what I'd done. Strangely, Merrill seemed to get more cheerful as we got further from the Gallows. Varric kept to the far side of Dera, and there was deep anger in his eyes, far, far more than I'd seen from him about anything but his brother.

Bethany had gotten nearer to her older sister who now wasn't moving very smoothly, even if it wasn't safe yet to pause for healing. Nathaniel moved closer to Bethany, his bow still drawn, in a spacing I still remembered from Amaranthine and the Deep Roads with the Wardens. They didn't look at me, so they'd heard rumors already, even if they still came during the emergency. Wardens were nothing if not pragmatists when destruction looms.

These were the people I'd known the best over the last few years, and all were avoiding meeting my eyes, or was it Vengeance's eyes. He may be still glowing inside of me with satisfaction, but I couldn't.

What hurt the most was that Aldera had not drifted to walk closer to me as she usually did, She just marched, not really paying attention, her green eyes dull and lifeless, her brown hair caked with dust from the statues and Chantry. She didn't even look at me, as if I was dead to her. My stomach became a pit of ice, as this was the first really quiet moment since... since the glow shining from the Hightown ruins began.

No one spoke as we made our way back to the harbor where Dera's mabari guarded our skiff. There were no sounds of panic and looting here, unlike the city earlier, just silence and occasional moans of pain or despair that carried. The veil to the Fade would be even thinner here now, which might partly explain what Meredith did. Not that I cared that much right now, as all those being made tranquil probably thinned the Veil too. The sailor who'd helped us cross was almost cornered by the dog, far away from safety of the gangplank. A small smile almost hurt my lips, but Varric laughed aloud when he saw it.

When we boarded the boat, Hawke shook herself and drew weapons as she moved towards the stern. The sailor had looked relieved as she'd approached until he saw her wicked long knives were out and pointed at him.

My stomach dropped further, what had I done to her? I'd wanted her safe from my demon, if nothing else.

A couple of the others started to protest, but she growled at them with only glances around the still-empty dock. Then she shouted at them or him, “He will help us get across the harbor, if he wants to...”

Aveline looked angry and started a lunge, but Hawke whispered with a tiny gesture, “He can't be seen to help us voluntarily. He can say whatever he wants in a month or so, or nothing and we'll leave ten sovereigns for his silence.”

The sailor had whitened, but shakily nodded. Aveline and her husband relaxed a bit at that, even if the Watch Captain looked like she now wanted to have words with Hawke. Nathaniel was more pragmatic, he'd been hunted before his Joining and had heard the same tales as I had of the wardens being hunted fugitives during the Blight, and he nodded as he'd tried his hand at assassination once. I wished I'd paid more attention now, as a group of fugitives is much different than just myself alone.

Bethany nodded too without any other reaction, and I suddenly remembered their whole family had been on the run for years from the Templars. Far longer than I had, their lifetimes.

We settled on the deck, and I wanted to look over their injuries and do some light healing as soon as I could. I wondered if any would let me. Fenris was the most angry, but the mabari seemed to be the only one to welcome a visit from me. He had no injuries but was happy to slobber all over me. Dogs.

The archers and us mages had been the lesser injured, mostly by spillover from sweeping attack from the massive statues or Meredith. Aveline, Donnic, Fenris, and of course Hawke, had been in the thick of the fighting. At least I didn't have to heal Cullen after, he's been the only Templar to last through the combat.

I hadn't seen Hawke cornered enough to take any of the heavy blows, but she was starting to move stiffly as we marched and I worried she had internal injuries.

Hawke had looked menacing as the skiff left the dock. Partway across the water she tossed a small pouch at the sailor's feet, and began to speak.

Varric coughed and she stopped. Silence ruled as Aveline looked at the city wistfully while we approached the port. She and her lieutenant had already cleaned their weapons and armor of blood and gore.

Hawke started, “I...” but Varric coughed again. She glared at him a moment and said firmly, “I want to thank you all for your help in that battle. I don't know what caused that magic or how badly they will be hunting us now. You'd be far safer far away from me,” With only a brief quirk of a smile towards the still-distant statue in the docks, she added, “I should have known my days of being a Champion were numbered.”

“Sounds like a plan, Hawke, though I think we all should avoid Starkhaven,” Varric said with the ghost of his usual ironic smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Maker, yes. Vael was angry enough to explode himself when he left after Hawke spared me. I still don't know why he didn't attack right then, he might have been successful. I was not planning to be here when he got back, so an army was pointless. How stupid did he think I was, or that he wouldn't kill as many innocents invading Kirkwall to get at me?

Maybe he now had his own vengeance demon. That irony could almost make me smile, even now.

Bethany and Nathaniel looked puzzled and then shrugged at Varric's comment. They'd never really met Vael. Lucky them, they should be able to disappear back into the Grey Wardens and relative anonymity. I couldn't fool myself into thinking that I could after this, even Templars could become Wardens, not that that was approved by the Chantry either, They didn't want to give away anyone. What I did here was not related to the Blight, so I didn't think the First Warden would approve of anyone sheltering me.

It was getting towards sunset when we docked, and the reddish orange glow from the ruins of the Chantry was finally starting to fade from the upper city. The sounds of rioting and looting carried faintly towards the boat, but the docks were mostly empty of people where we put in. The sailor hid in the small hold before Varric even tied up the line. How long until people came out of hiding to flee the city or hunt for those to blame?

The streets were much darker as lamps were broken or just not lit when we looked around. We ran into a few looters who were accosting a woman, and Hawke and Fenris killed them in sprays of blood before I could do any more than raise a defensive spell. Aveline seemed surprised at how fast it went, and looked at Hawke with worry.

The allegorical statue of Hawke was still there, even if she only looked at the ground as we passed beside it. The only thing that was at all accurate was the Qunari head, she used to laugh at it and threaten to drape beads or tie brightly colored bows to it. She should still be special, damn it.

Aveline and Donnic started to move towards some larger skirmish noise from further away, but stopped with unhappy looks at each other. They were fugitives too, and not city guard right now. Merrill looked at the fires visible in the distance as if it were for some kind of unusual plant or entertaining light. Fenris looked disgusted, but then again he nearly always looked that way when I was around. Still he had helped, despite our frequent arguments and his hatred of the magisters. In the gathering dusk and odd light, Hawke waved to get our attention and led us off towards some warehouses. Varric, unslung his Bianca and he melted out of sight for a change. He usually liked attention. Both Nathaniel and Bethany had that detached look of seeking attack from any direction, they were silent, which was a large change from how she'd been before her joining.

We didn't move very fast when we were above ground, but we traveled though several passages and tunnels underground, some that were familiar to me. I didn't see too many stirring as we moved through narrow tunnels or larger caverns which had been divided and redivided in the many years since Tevinter had their slaves here. Any refugees still living down here were keeping their heads low. They were probably safer here than those in the city above.

We moved in stages so that Hawke or Nathaniel scouted ahead before we moved forward. I prayed we wouldn't run into anyone else. I really didn't know if Vael was as familiar with the darker parts of Kirkwall anymore closer to my clinic. Hawke had set Aveline and Varric behind us mages, while the others were in point. It was almost strange to have so many with us, but there would be so many looking for booty or blood in today's upheaval.

There had been more than enough deaths today. Prayers of mine weren't answered very often, and when we were strung out in a tunnel we were attacked. Looters, bandits, or even hunting Templars, I guessed they weren't smart enough to recognize how many or dangerous we were in the dimness down here.

Even so, I was tired enough that it was harder to cast some spells, and I saw I wasn't the only one having problems. Nathaniel swapped weapons, using sword and dagger like when we'd met, fresh blood in a trickle from a scalp wound from the first.

Our spells provided extra flashes of light as we were attacked by a group coming from ahead of us in the tunnel. Several looked afraid when they saw Fenris' glowing, but they had closed quickly so they crowded him enough in the narrow tunnel he couldn't swing his great sword very well. Hawke judged a backstab too close and three more appeared behind her before she could tumble away. Donnic barreled into several, but they were becoming a mass of combatants, too crowded to see to what exactly was happening. I could hear Aveline growling with wanting to fight, but we were in her way and the tunnel narrow.

I cast to spell to heal our group, while Bethany and Merril were attacking, being careful with how close the fighting was.

Aveline grunted, and I was hit by a heavy weight from behind. I managed to keep on my feet and turned and saw more attacking from behind us and heard their shouts. I was casting another spell, when the magic drained away even as I was slashed by blades and knocked down.

Dazed I saw the group behind us was at least as large as ours, and Varric and Aveline had been overwhelmed. I managed to croak out, “Templar!” to warn Bethany and Merrill amidst the other battle cries.

Hawke appeared behind me, and barreled into the swordsman with a yell as I tried to concentrate to heal myself even as I realized the blades must have had magebane poison by my magic's stuttering. Bethany turned to attack even as Hawke vaulted over the others to attack the Templar from behind, slipping badly before her knife found his back. Both groups attacking us started losing ground, and only a handful even tried to flee.

Soon we were the only survivors, and Bethany lit the site as Varric checked the bodies for information and valuables. Hawke and Nathaniel had the worst wounds, her badly wrenched shoulder and his slashes, neither of them were that well armored. I could only wrap them with bandaging for now, while Bethany and Merrill did their minor healings.

The poison wouldn't kill me alone, but I'd lost my feel for Fade energies, and Justice was silent. I'd wanted us to be free of each other, but I doubted living on magebane like most Templars sneaked their lyrium would keep me alive very long. Could I give up magic like that and live, either from hunters or from starving?

By the time we'd made it to the tunnel I'd used to go to and from Hawke's mansion, Justice managed to tell me that he was still present and my energy had been restored. From above the ground I could hear an odd rumbling and wondered if the Hawke estate was still there.

“Should be safe enough here, Hawke,” Varric told her. “Gather close to speak. Though we should be quick and quiet after.”

I set about quickly healing as much as I could while the others spoke, trying to ignore any wary looks. Their wariness about my healing saddened me, though I should have expected it. I still hadn't quite said goodbye to healing others, like this and at my clinic.

“Strip the mansion of anything of use,” Hawke said grimly. “Quickly though, it will either be destroyed or confiscated.”

With a faintly nasty smile, Bethany added, “Maybe Gamlen might claim it back. Guess you'll get to live on the road like I have these few years.”

With a sigh, Hawke admitted, “It was always more Mother's home than mine. I never did have the heart to disturb her room after her death.”

I saw in a glimpse out of the corner of my eye that Bethany frowned at that, but I wasn't sure why.

“Good, then you can get some different clothing, Hawke. Your armor is too distinct right now,” Varric said musingly.

“Where now, Hawke?” Aveline asked.

A long silence greeted the former captain's question and I felt the brush of a touch from Hawke's direction, too short to be sure it was hers with the way we crowded together.

“I don't know,” Hawke said in a rough voice so different than her normally sweet one. “I shouldn't know. You'll be much safer if I don't know exactly where you plan to go, but I'll miss you all.”

I heard Nathaniel snort, and I suspected the Wardens might be able to track me by my taint. I could only hope those ranked Wardens who could order this wouldn't decide to. They all knew a thing or two about obsession. I didn't think Attryne would, but she was only really ranking senior in Ferelden despite the blight. I hadn't heard from her in years.

I felt a pang as I realized again that Hawke might fly freer without me.

Justice rumbled approval of that thought yet again and I howled back at him like I had for years; Dera was still the largest thing we truly disagreed on. I could never agree to that. She even helped Templars if they were wronged, despite our disapproval.

“...been a long road, Hawke,” Aveline was saying. “I hope we find a quieter place than the last...”

“Enough talk,” Fenris interrupted. “If we are to scavenge supplies we must go now.”

Merrill patted Hawke's shoulder when she wilted a little at that. I'd met enough blood mages and killed most, that I still didn't quite understand how she could stay so naive and innocent.

Still not meeting my eyes or touching me, Hawke straightened her shoulders and led us into what had been my first real home so we could abandon it.

When we got there, the cellars were intact. Varric and Hawke scouted through the place and found there was no one here. Bodahn, his boy and their effects were gone, as was the meek elf girl. It looked like the locks had held.

A thousand memories were here, overshadowing my many years in the Circle. I had thought that letting go of my life while awaiting a quick execution was hard earlier today...

I was holding myself still, waiting for an attack from one of the others, or Hawke using one of her daggers in a flick of an eye. I dimly realized I was rocking myself as I awaited that blade. I couldn't disagree that I deserved death after all I'd done. I was an innocent healer once, but not with this much blood on my hands. Hawke would be mercifully quick. Justice was restive again, what so rarely had happened since I'd gone to her house the night after I'd read Aldrik's failed petition. I remembered as I spoke slowly to Hawke that Justice had trouble remembering innocents anymore. I did not want him taking over and hurting her, I would lock myself still so he could not harm her. And so I did not even try to look her in the eyes as I waited my execution, while I still had some shreds of control over his rage. During that long moment that she said nothing and I felt no air movement, I even wondered if she'd ask them for opinions. The silence went too long and I realized I already knew pretty much what they'd all say, and so would she by now. I was holding my breath, wondering if I'd even feel her blade enter. I'd seen her kill from behind so many times in a splash of gore. Would I even have coherent thought long enough to even try to heal if my survival instinct or Justice broke free? Justice raged, roaring for Meredith, but I would not let him out to harm Hawke.

I expected that she'd execute me, and she at least would be merciful and quick, unlike anyone else after today. But Dera didn't kill me, to my shock. I could see anger in her eyes like the others, despite her words. I ached to take her in my arms, but she hated what I'd done even if she let me live. This wasn't the time to touch her, it may never be that time again. And still there was Meredith to stop.

My dying as an abomination at Hawke's hand should have prevented her from being held to blame for what I'd done, I knew she would still help any surviving mages after I was gone. But she didn't execute me, even if I was holding myself so still, to not resist, and to remember all my happy times. Almost all had her in them. Well, aside for Ser Pounce-a-lot.

All too soon we were fighting Templars and abominations in the Gallows, with only our brief conversation after Orsino's stupid death to give me any hope even if we didn't touch. I'd thought he was only a lap dog to bow down too much, but some academic curiosity led him to know enough to screw blood magic magic up and not even accomplish anything. At least Merrill knew what she was doing. I'd heard once that Jowan had stopped running, but he was nowhere as dangerous as what Orsino tried and failed. I fully expected to die in that battle, but didn't.

I felt closer to her when awaiting her blade, than I did right now while we planned escaping the city together...

Chapter 2: Leaving Hearth and Home

Summary:

After the battle their company snatches supplies before they leave Kirkwall for good.

-- Kirkwall, the Hawke estate

Aldera Hawke:

I felt so tired after that many battles, like a guttering candle, as I tried to make a half dozen plans at once: escaping the city, helping my friends get away safely, disguise, supplies, my non-combat dependents, vengeful archers and Templars, destinations... Most of all was my worry about Anders and his Fade-blasted spirit.

On entering the mansion proper we were close enough to the ruins of the Chantry. I was glad the servants I never really felt comfortable with had fled during the fighting. I knew Bodahn was already planning to go to Orlais with Sandal, but I worried more about Orana as getting her to even go out or meet other elves in the Alienage with Merrill had been an uphill struggle. I could only pray to the Maker that some Tevinter slaver gang didn't find her in this chaos. She didn't hunger for freedom the way Fenris did and I never knew how to help her.

“I will see what kind of food might travel well,” Merrill said practically as she quietly padded towards the kitchen.

“Hawke and the guardsmen need to either lose or pack away their distinctive armor and weapons for a time,” Fenris warned, heading for the cabinet where I'd kept extra equipment packed away.

Quiet for a change, Varric moved to where I'd kept extra travel gear, it was a mixed blessing that everyone knew where I stored everything.

I couldn't even look at Anders as I felt like I had a gaping wound in my chest from his actions today. Everything I'd said before the battle was true, but seeing the light from the Chantry's destruction again and that odd smell when we came above ground in my home kept reminding me of the day's costs.

So many deaths. Too many innocents among them.

Who wasn't innocent? Meredith, definitely. Orsino partly, he didn't act enough against people like Mother's killer. But that didn't make him wrong about how his mages were being treated. Elthina? Not as much as most people thought. Only we saw her turn her back on Patrice's murder. How many knew she refused Orsino's requests for help for so many years? What should be the cost when good people do nothing? How many cared? The Templars were supposed to be under the Chantry's command. Always follow where the money flows, Varric had mused often enough. They didn't actually fight enough people with money to pay for good armor and weapons. If she couldn't control Meredith I would have been happy to deliver that message to the White Divine myself if she was willing to swallow her pride and ask.

Wasn't Pride one of the five kinds of demons? Along with Sloth. Rage was supposed to be weakest. All fire and violence... much like Justice has become inside my Anders, merged into one. What he did was as dark as the black city, and few could forgive him for what he did.

Or was I the idiot to think he still was a good man?

Maker, I wished I hadn't believed that a potion could cure him. He'd often seemed so desperate in trying to control his rage. Only needing an exotic potion seemed like a gift from the Maker.

I shied away from that thought, even if I felt again like a golem had just gut punched me.

Donnic was glaring at Aveline, he must have guessed that I would not have much in the way of extra armor for her. It was often a balm to see them together, and I'd be willing to bet he was insisting she take the leather armor, replacing her plate. They were quiet enough I couldn't hear their talk, but he was really good at getting his way for some things, despite her rank. Actually I had sold some extra things a few days ago for more potions and grenades at the Emporium.

The Emporium, Xenon'd never deal with Templars, he's be burnt to ash right away. I'd never seen any other customers when I was there so we'd have no witnesses and should be safe. That had to be our first stop leaving the city, and hope he'd have some new equipment we could afford.

“Dera?” Bethany asked, sounding like she'd said it before, but she continued when I made eye contact. “We'll leave the city now, there's always plenty of missions for wardens for many years around a Blight. The Deep Roads might be safer for you also.”

I should consider that, though Anders seemed to hate it underground. I didn't know how long I could avoid getting tainted if I went again, and I didn't want to have to put anyone else through the mercy that was needed for Ser Wesley. Twice was enough, and I really doubted the wardens would want either of us that much. Wardens were heroes, not us.

Forcing a smile, I hugged my sister and told her, “I don't think so, unless as a last resort. I wouldn't put anyone through what happened to you.”

“It's not all bad,” Bethany said with a smirk and glance at Nathaniel. “I don't really have to worry much about Templars or Chantry for the most part. It's just nice to be able to breathe free.” She looked sad for a moment, and then said with a smile, “I never did get the chance to tell Mother there are more men than women as Grey Wardens, that would have made her happy.”

Remembering her unsubtle attempts a matchmaking I had to smile too. She'd worried about my friendship with Anders, having heard his angry ranting a few times when he was working on early drafts of his manifesto.

Since then, Anders had been closer to losing control for months, more if I was badly hurt. That would have made the long search for enough of his dried dragon crap worth it.

I stomped on that thought, yet again as I had for hours, trying to return Bethany's smile. It would have been far, far easier to forgive him a lover, or ten.

More hesitantly, Bethany suggested while gripping my arm, “Dera, you should take a moment to take a memento from Mother's room. You should remember her better than how she died.”

I jerked back, like I always did when remembering the dark hole she died in. I didn't want to think of what had been done to her. Mothers' deaths. I'd really felt for Sebastian's similar pain earlier, as I'd felt the need for vengeance too. Mother's death was still too recent for me not to sympathize. I'd find it hard to... assassinate Vael if he did come at the head of an army seeking us. A weakness he could exploit if he ever calmed down enough to realize it, and to find me without an army at his back. Then he could easily get within bow shot.

I found I'd closed my eyes and taken a deep breath as I shuddered at remembering all the deaths and losses I'd had since the army at Ostagar.

For a wild instant I considered if I could fake one of those Ferelden reinstatement commissions, like that Aveline had gotten. I hadn't been anything but a raw recruit, though, and Aveline had been a sergeant or something. I rejected the idea from wherever it came from, Anders couldn't fake being a soldier.

A warm and strong arm slid around me from the side in a familiar way, and I sagged against Anders, wishing the last day had never happened. That today had been some horrible nightmare. But I could smell the smoke in the air.

Some part of me was still planning and I spoke again to Bethany, saying with my eyes still shut, “Thanks, Bethany. I'll need to pack quickly. I will try to send a message through the Wardens if I can, using Papa's favorite pet chicken's name.”

He'd hated our flock of chickens, even if we'd started naming them all as children. That should send anyone else off course, even if I was being a little too paranoid. I hated speaking cryptically with my friends around, but I still hoped to make like contact arrangements for everyone before we parted and I didn't want one capture to doom us all. Papa's favorite bird was his mabari Maggie, short for Magpie, dam of my Bigpaws.

I'd have to change his name too, I guessed.

A hand took mine, and I opened my eyes. Bethany looked so sad, but we fell into another hug. Would I ever see her again? We kept parting like this with blood and death hanging over us. And years of danger in between. She was the only other one I knew of who knew in her bones that a mage and non-mage could have a long and happy marriage.

For all it was one of Anders' goals, he didn't really believe it was possible, here, now, or for him. And now it was so much harder. I still wanted to slap him upside the head for stupidity. And Justice for being a bad general.

Bethany and I ended our hug, and I could see the tears in her eyes this time. She'd been so angry in the Deep Roads when I'd met her with Nathaniel, so I was the only one restraining tears that time when we parted. I'd had to hold Bigpaws from following her after they left us; he was puzzled. This time she smiled weakly and ran up towards Mother's room taking the archer with her.

Aveline and Donnic had moved to another room, to make their own plans and maybe sample from the collection of liquor she'd found for me. This left me alone with Anders.

Finally, I looked at him, and saw my pain in his eyes too, before I had to look away again. I just didn't know what to say.

If cruel insanity was what defined abominations, he still wasn't truly one, whatever he was. Those deaths were very quick, more a human violence than indifferent spirit. I'd seen too much insanity and cruelty to completely miss it. He'd been monumentally stupid, like Orsino, but he knew he'd face the Maker for it and was willing to pay that cost. Even to her end, Meredith refused to admit she'd pay for those people harmed in her wake. She may have said she cared, but there was precious little proof over the last decade. She must have thought the Maker would reward her for failing to protect her charges.

I didn't want power; I couldn't live with causing pain like that. For those I killed, they were some flavor of self defense or defending others, not to gain or hold power over others. To plan Harrowings, make people tranquil, or send people to their deaths was beyond me. Killing Sebastian might have been a good idea earlier, but he'd been my friend even if he didn't consider me his any longer. I didn't ever want to be so coldblooded as to send people to die at my word.

Turning to face Anders, I put both arms around him and laid my cheek against his chest, holding tightly. Sending him away would have only been a delayed death sentence, and I'd only be waiting and worrying until I heard. I could feel him take a deep breath and relax a little, his lips grazing my forehead. Maybe I was the insane one to feel safe like this.

Varric interrupted after only a couple of breaths, saying, “Haw... Hardy, we don't have time for that now.”

Suddenly I wished we'd taken the opportunity to kiss, but the moment had passed and I ran up to our room. Minutes later, I was shaken when I realized I was sorting things from my chest onto the bed into trash and keep piles.

Anders had clattered into the room while I was doing this, and saw it too. Stepping quickly over to where I now looked at my possessions in bewilderment, he pulled me against him for some searing kisses, saying between them, “I still can't resist you.”

“I never wanted you to. Never. Teasing about... verse or sandwiches... should be all in fun,” I managed to reply.

Pausing at hearing what I'd said, he sadly looked down at my face to admit, “I know it... Justice has no sense of humor. I wish I still did.”

Reaching up to brush a tendril of hair away from his eyes, I suggested, “Sometimes you do still. Maybe you should practice more between rescues.”

Anders smiled a little at that, but this time someone sent Bigpaws to remind me time was passing. He jumped up on the bed, and it wasn't worth the effort to convince him to get off anymore. Standing on the bed he was taller than we were.

Looking around the room, it already seemed emptier. Pulling a knife, I offered it, saying “Start cutting fabric into bandaging after you pack, looking injured might be safer.” I wanted to make sure he realized that I still trusted him in many ways.

Bleakly, I thought if I couldn't, I wanted to end it now.

So, for maybe half an hour we went through the chests and cabinets in the room. I collected equipment, extra clothing for my pack, and sell-able stashed trinkets from chipped gemstones to what looked like a carved serpent. I refused to think about the symbolism there. I grabbed my journal, Aveline's wedding note, Mother's shawl and jewelry from her room, Papa's quill pen and my ink set, and Carver's whetstone... all for my soul.

I added three books with a Chantry one on top of the pile, but when Anders looked angry I told him, “We will need to know the Chant of Light better than the typical sisters and mothers, including as much detail about how Andraste made allies as we can find.”

His brown eyes flashed briefly with the energy of Justice's presence, but neither of them objected further. His pile was much smaller, I saw just a some clothing, healing supplies, a case with messages and my correspondence, and blank parchment, along with his pillow that I'd overheard Varric refuse as a gift recently.

When we met downstairs, I wore the plainer leather armor I'd worn before the flashier Champion armor was completed. I dug in my night-side tools too. The others only had whatever they'd left here, which oddly enough included most of Aveline's shield collection. Merrill began to help Anders with cutting bandages, so everyone would have a good supply. Aveline and Donnic were sitting together on a bench, and I envied them their certainty in each other. Would I ever be as certain as them?

Fenris prowled the mansion, looking for intruders, ghosting in and out of the shadows, his tattoos appearing before he did in the darkness. Varric was polishing Bianca, still unusually quiet for him. I thought he was mostly keeping watch on Anders. I wouldn't deny him that.

We'd gathered in one of the smaller interior rooms with fewer windows, where only embers of the usual fire were now burning in the fireplace. Bethany stepped into the room, her Warden armor having a better meaning than mine did anymore in Kirkwall. “We're leaving now, while there's still some people out and about, our safehouse should have others there too.” She stepped over to where I was trying to arrange a few more items in a pack. “You have to go now, sister. There's no one still here you can help anymore.”

“Have a care for yourself too, Hawke. You cannot help those who don't want it. You told me that yourself after my Keeper...” Merrill scolded me, too.

I looked around. No one objected to what they'd said, I was dawdling too much. Getting a sack to tie to my pack with as many extra weapons as I thought we could safely carry. They'd be worth good money wherever we went. In those few minutes Fenris returned and gruffly offered to take a bit more of the weapons. Anders looked momentarily frustrated and Bigpaws went over to him, to his usual annoyance.

We left my home then, the only one that had been mine and the longest one in my life, like thieves in the night. I was a fugitive again.

Nathaniel and Bethany moved off towards the harbor, again disappearing into the lands of darkspawn and dwarves, while I watched for a moment too long. It felt so final this time.

All the entrances for the Dark Emporium were subtle and hidden, so stopping there was low risk for now. A brief visit for some common appearing armor, weapons, tools and dyes cost more than I wanted, I finally sold the daggers I'd bought for Isabela before I realized she wasn't coming back. Giving up that hope hurt as well.

But now many of us had different clothing or armor, even if it wasn't as good as what we'd worn earlier and had packed away. I didn't sell mine, as I thought I might be able to use pieces of it once enough time had passed.

For the rest of the night we kept moving, and I was exhausted when we'd made it to a smugglers' cave I remembered from my first year around Kirkwall with Athenril's gang. Those days finished my the slippery slide into the illegal side of how I lived and earned my coin. I tried to be careful, but I'd already gotten started when my family moved from place to place before the Blight. I'd also heard too much from the elves we'd worked with, both exiled Dalish and those who needed freedom more than the joys of slightly safer living in an Alienage. After a year of smuggling and more years in the shadier parts of Kirkwall and I knew plenty about the unseen ways in and out of the city, even if we'd usually stayed well away from the Gallows.

Setting up some simple snares at the cave mouth, I was losing my fight to stay awake soon after I drank some water. I wasn't hungry and couldn't even face food after this day. Everyone settled into a quiet camp. Bigpaws lay down in front of me when I'd curled onto my side to rest. In the faint morning light that reached us in here, I could see a few gray hairs in his fur. Suddenly I realized I'd lose him soon enough too, like everyone else.

My mabari war hound Bigpaws was the most important memento of Ferelden, the last gift from Papa before he died, from before the Blight, from when everyone was alive and life seemed so full of promise. Years later and so many deaths, not even counting today's horrible pillar of lovely, shimmering light and so many statues that smashed people into sprays of blood and pulp.

Then I felt awful that I was mourning one dog's coming death with more tears than I shed when the Chantry was destroyed. Bigpaws licked my face and I threw my arm over him as I tried not to make any noise as I wept.

Chapter 3: Dazed Stupors

Summary:

Outside Kirkwall, the adrenaline and shock fade, so all the survivors of the Gallows' battle try to rest before deciding their paths. This is not as simple as it once was, from the onus of the things they've done.

-- Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast

Anders:

I was tired, but one of the few advantages of Justice was that I didn't need quite as much sleep. He hadn't slept at all when he had his first host. A disadvantage: I didn't remember dreams of the Fade anymore. I didn't know if we couldn't dream, because he was, we were, always somehow part of the Fade. Or was I now like so many who just didn't remember their dreams? Who could I even safely ask?

Preparing to take first watch, I checked on the fighters and they seemed mostly recovered, even though I did more healing just in case I missed something subtle. Then I set my back against a pad made from my folded blanket.

The warriors went to sleep before Hawke really settled, and I was somewhat surprised they even let me do that anymore. Aveline and Donnic held each other, with faint smiles as they slept. Fenris also always slept lightly, a skill I'd also learned in a mirror image neither of us wanted to admit. Merrill settled quickly to sleep almost like she was a bird ruffling its feathers.

Varric stayed awake longer, watching me. He didn't say anything, but I could feel his stare as I sought any sign of enemies with all my senses. Finally he slept and I turned some of my attention to Hawke. Her mabari was alert enough, and looked at me when I turned that way. The silent stare of a dog unnerved me more than the others' had earlier.

After a very long moment, Bigpaws settled again and I saw that Hawke must have been crying by the tear tracks on her face.

Hawke never cried, so went my first instant of thought, she'd been a dry eyed wraith after her mother died, only putting her head on my shoulder when she grieved. She'd been closed when she wasn't sure Bethany would survive the darkspawn taint or the Joining, but we weren't close then. My second thought was like a fist through my ribs, I hadn't even noticed in the hours since we camped, nor had she come to me for any comfort this time. Would she trust me again? I hadn't trusted myself for years, but still this cut deep and I'd done it to myself. It still wasn't the time to talk, we were still too raw.

Later I woke Aveline and tried to ignore her wary look as I lay down along Hawke's back and put my arm around her carefully. At least she didn't pull away from me in her sleep, and I cast a breath of healing on her. As I settled for sleep, I chose the risk to pull her a little closer to me and further from her mabari. He growled almost silently and bared his teeth, making my hackles rise before he settled again.

Holding Hawke close, I remembered my grief of only the previous night, that last night would be my final time with her, as I'd either be dead or been made tranquil by now. The only way I thought I'd sleep with her again was if I'd become the coward Justice once accused me of, and I hadn't seized the future. But I'd brought down Meredith and shown the Chantry could be defied, at such cost. I didn't think Fenris and his little trick would hurt any more than seeing her turn away from me when she left for the Gallows. I held her now, but did it mean anything?

Still she was in my arms again and a band around my heart loosened. Breathing in her scent, I went to sleep hoping for a day where Hawke and I could have been together without strife or hiding, freely.

-- x --

Waking midday, Hawke was only stirring in my arms and Bigpaws had left us. I worried when I kissed her by her ear, not sure what her reaction would be. She didn't twist away nor cuddle closer, holding herself too still.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to be face up. Her green eyes hollow, she said in a near whisper, “I don't know what happens now. Maker help me, I love you too much to lose you, but all those innocents...”

I'd managed to put that out of my head, a base violation of all I'd ever done as a healer. Some there had to include those I'd already healed over the years. The side I called Justice was silent, as if he didn't want to be reminded of grays again. Her tired and grieving eyes confirmed that those deaths were haunting her and her sleep was not restful. If I was to be cast as the demon in this history, she could be cast as my opposite... who'd been corrupted by a maleficar.

All very dramatic for one of Varric's tales, but Hawke always treated me like a man, not a mage, not an apostate, and not even as an abomination.

Grazing her the softness of her cheek with my fingertips, I admitted, “I don't know either. I must improve the lot of mages, that has been true for a long time now.”

“I once hoped...” she started to speak, but tiredly closed her eyes and shook her head with a sigh. Restarting after a moment, she said in too level a voice, “I'd ask you to promise to ask for help, to get another's opinion for your plans, one that is more grounded, but I don't know if I could believe any promise or vow from you now.”

After my deception I deserved that, but it still hurt to hear her say it. Worse was how she looked, with a sad and bleak expression.

I still ached for her, ached to hold her. She still fit so well within my arms.

Shaking my head, I said nothing. I'd made any of those words I could say for this just hollow noise. She'd believed me, believed in me, and thought I could be a good example. I saw the precipice I was still teetering on as Vengeance suddenly roared for more destruction.

Still I had to say something to break that spiral. Not thinking much, I started to say, “I said that I'd break your...”

I was surprised by a slap to my face, a slap hard enough to make my head ring all the more when I slammed into the ground too.

In an angry growl with her voice shaking, Hawke said, “Don't you dare tell me that shit again. You make the decisions, and you've so often said you and Justice are one. Are you, or not? Which is it? Do you even know? There are so many things we could have done instead of what you did. You know how many times I've argued with the others over things I've done, almost always to save lives and help people even when I don't like what they want to do.”

Reaching to grab the neck of my robe, she glared at me and gritted out, “The blade cuts both ways when people are free, they can choose to do the wrong things or nothing. If you have freedom to not join the Circle, Carver should have had the freedom to serve the Maker if he wanted without turning Bethany in, and Merrill should have the freedom to study her history if she doesn't harm others. I couldn't chain any of you up because I was afraid, that's what the Chantry does. Freedom has to grant the same to others. What else would be just?”

Justice was again silent. I didn't know what to say, I wasn't ready for this anger. She had new tears tracking through the dried ones.

Leaning away a bit, I asked, with my voice cracking, “Is this goodbye then?”

Though I didn't know what would happen to me if she told me to go. A short and violent life I suspected.

Hawke bit her lip and shook her head, saying, “No, for so many reasons. I said 'for the rest of our lives,' and I meant it. I let you live after that horror, and any innocents you might kill from now on, are a weight on me too. I have to try to prevent that. I want you to be more the healer I met, not the haunted man you've become.” she said while cupping my cheek. “And I still love you, even when you've done the most awful thing I can imagine. I almost hate myself for that,” Hawke admitted before dropping her hand and looking away again for seconds that lasted forever.

My cheek felt so much colder, even after only that moment.

The self-loathing in her eyes had frozen in my heart and I could feel my own eyes leaking. I fumbled for my belt knife to give to her, saying, “You should have killed me. I never wanted to break you too. I wanted all the blame for my actions... to keep you safe.”

She sobbed once as she plucked the blade away before I realized she was moving. It landed with a clatter further in the cave and she added sadly, “No, no cheap answers.”

I let myself go limp against the ground to say, “I'm... fractured and I haven't yet found a way to be free after years of looking. I can't go on like this. Prisoner of the Circle Tower, prisoner of the my taint, prisoner of my ideals, and prisoner of Justice. I'd gnaw off a paw if I could just be free.”

Hawke sighed, closing her mossy eyes for a long moment, “We'll manage somehow, but you have to talk to me more. Let me help.”

Tracing one of her tear tracks back up, I echoed, “Let me help you.”

Smiling faintly, she said practically, “We have to get further away before anyone else finds us.”

I helped her stand, in wonder that Hawke still wasn't afraid of me, of us. I could burn her to a cinder or crush her into stillness, then use other spells to finish it. I could only count that as an undeserved blessing from the Maker after yesterday.

The others had moved towards the cave entrance while we slept, though I guessed we might not have been quiet enough with that slap. Our meal was some of the fancier baked goods that had been in the kitchen at the mansion, a little dry without the usual extras, but filling even if they did not travel well. It would be a long time until I thought we might have their like again.

They looked at me with varying combinations of wariness and dislike, and our meal was mostly silent aside from Varric and Merrill talking about the terrain. Actually Merrill was rambling about the fauna's oddities and Varric was asking just enough to keep her talking. Hawke wasn't far from me when we sat, but we weren't even touching, let alone how she'd usually lean back against me, her warmth a comfort.

The former guards had their packs closer to the cave entrance, and when Hawke had finished eating, Aveline finally spoke.

“We're going to move on now, maybe find guard work somewhere else or join a mercenary crew. Hope we can find one of the better ones that isn't scum...” the former Watch Captain said flatly, with a glance at her husband.

“I'm sorry I screwed up your life, Aveline. From Lothering to now, looks like I'm real good at that,” Hawke said, her voice too stark.

“No, you helped me with cleaning up the guard and helping us get married,” Aveline said, looking over and taking her husband's hand. “I knew Wesley couldn't live much longer with how fast the taint was taking him. You were kind for a stranger when he would have hunted your family. I didn't want to do it for him, so I shouldn't have been surprised when you...”

Hawke was only looking at the ground when she answered, “I wish we could have waited a little longer for you to at least say more goodbyes.”

Smiling sadly, Aveline shook her head, “I'm sorry I blamed you for doing it for so long, but we all knew the horde wasn't far. More time wouldn't have changed what happened, and he's with the Maker now. He'd be horrified by what we've seen the other Templars do in Kirkwall.”

I'd almost forgotten her first husband had been a Templar, a rarity in itself, because they were almost locked up too, watching us. Few married that I'd ever seen. I frowned at that thought, and I felt Justice shift a little

“Still, all the things that were the worst, were already there when we arrived,” Aveline claimed, “We made a difference in large and small ways and that won't disappear even if we do.”

“The chains of Tevinter slavery and abuse never left the city, only the top dogs changed,” Varric put in. “With apologies to the mabari over there. Even if the law isn't there, those blasted statues never left, still casting their pall over every space in the city. I for one, am very glad they're going to have to be hauled away as scrap now, though I wonder who's going to profit on it.”

“Not you, my friend,” Aveline said with one of her softer smiles.

Varric grinned, “Captain, you still forget the sheer number of relatives I seem to have in that city. I may own a piece of one of those things yet, and I'll put it above my mantle. And I wonder what enchantment-boy would make of that metal now?”

Oh, Maker, that was tons of metal, part of the strongest outpouring of magic I'd ever heard of. That impossibility I'd have to think about later.

“Still, I'm leaving Kirkwall with more in some ways than I left Ferelden,” Aveline said with a smile at Donnic and wiping off one of her newer shields.

Hawke had a sweet smile for Aveline when she said, “I did grab something to bring, but I think you need it more than me.” With that she moved over to her pack and pulled a slip of paper out of one of those books.

Puzzled until she opened the folded paper, Aveline grinned at Hawke for the first time in a long while, saying, “No, you should keep it as we may never meet again.”

This was a deeper silence as she'd said aloud what I don't think they'd wanted to admit.

Reaching over to scratch Bigpaws, Hawke said, “That's why you should have it. I managed to bring more things with me when I left, but the rest of you couldn't because you decided to help me. I didn't manage to grab things for everyone, I wasn't thinking.”

“All I truly possess is part of me,” Fenris said as his first real statement today, “That cannot be taken away.”

Merrill looked worried, but Varric said with a smile, “Don't worry, Daisy, I'll see if I can acquire your toy. I'd far rather it not fall into the hands of fools.”

“Then I accept,” Aveline stated to Dera. Looking at her husband, she added while taking off her hair tie, “Take this, then. You need to change your hair anyway.”

Hawke nodded and took her long brown hair out of the bun she usually kept it in, removing pins and picks and shaking it out. Then she tied the cord around her head like Aveline had had hers.

I'd seen her dark hair loose many times after we'd made love, all of which seemed ages ago. I didn't like seeing it loose out in the open like this. My fingers itched, either to help put it back the way it belonged or to run my fingers through it as I kissed her.

I ended up sitting on my fingers.

Chapter 4: Distances From Loved Ones

Summary:

The Guard Captain wants a few words with Hawke before their afternoon marches separate, but Hawke is not bearing up very well right now. Still, pain must be put aside so they can get away from Kirkwall.

-- outside Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast

Aldera Hawke:

Having my hair loose felt so odd after so long in helmets. I'd have to make more changes in the next few days, but this was a good start.

Aveline nodded significantly towards the outside of the cave, so I nodded and stood. Fenris seemed to be dozing and Merrill was talking earnestly to Varric.

My heart drooped when I saw Anders was hunched in on himself, looking inward. I already felt bad about slapping him earlier. With how he seemed to need blame, I wondered for the first time if anyone else had been involved in his stupid plan.

I restrained myself from shaking my head. He did do it, as much as I wished I could blame someone else, I doubted he could be controlled by blood magic with Justice already in there. I wouldn't find any answers until we had more distance and safety to really talk. I stepped outside after Aveline along the scrabbled hillside trail, with Bigpaws following closely.

He was happy today as I was petting him more, but he was guileless and loyal and... I'd miss him. I had no farm or holding or home for him to retire to, he'd probably die protecting me from some stupid ass bounty hunter or darkspawn in the Deep Roads.

A sob came from my throat as I tried to stop myself from breaking down into tears again.

“Aldera!” I heard Aveline say, sounding worried.

Shaking my head, I looked at her while wiping my eyes with my fists over and over. “I'm sorry, I realized he's got a lot of gray in his fur and he's not going to live much longer if I keep taking him into combat. He's the last thing I have of my home and family and I feel so awful that I'm crying over him more than the horror of all those people in the Chantry. But I can't stop it.” I tried to say something else, but I was having trouble breathing enough to speak. I was taking great heaving breaths and I couldn't stop. I sank down on my haunches with my knees against my chest and hugged myself.

It took some time for me to get myself under control, even when Aveline hugged me as I rocked. I never knew what to say at some times either.

Finally I'd stopped, and looked up at her, “Sorry about that. I'm wasting time we don't have.”

“I don't see a darkspawn horde,” Aveline said with a faint smile, “I think we can spare a few minutes.”

Forcing a smile, I said, “We'd have more warning for that, at least this time. What did you want to talk about?”

Reluctantly, she admitted, “We were planning to leave today yet and make our way to another port with active smugglers.”

Uncurling to sit, I told her with a wave at myself and the horizon, “Don't change your plans for this. You have a better chance if I'm not with you.”

“I'm worried about you. He's insane even if not like the abomination that Orsino became,” she said carefully. “You're... not right,” she finished with some frustration.

“Then I guess we belong together,” I said with another forced smile. “You know me, I always put it aside when it comes to survival.”

“Or to take care of your family,” Aveline said grimly, “Or your friends, even if they do evil things.”

I looked away to say, “I always hoped to limit the bad, that they can do what they really need to do without doing the darker things. But I've never failed at it so badly before. I should have realized the signs.”

Again I choked up, I'd failed to protect my brother, that Carver thought he could defeat that ogre alone. My sister, that I thought she'd be safer with me than close to the Templars and Chantry. I failed my mother when that killer found her, and I failed Anders when he lost himself into Justice and I didn't even notice. I'd liked Elthina and Orsino and some of the Chantry I'd spoken with at times over the years, in Kirkwall and back in Ferelden. I never felt comfortable inside Chantries with the threats implicit towards my family. That I'd have to give up to avoid attention, I thought in the back of my mind.

With a deep breath, I rubbed Bigpaws' belly and told her, “I'm not at risk directly from him. All I have to do is keep him out of trouble and keep us both alive.”

“Maybe a toddler would keep him busy,” Aveline said with a nasty smile.

“When are you having children again?” I asked a little desperately as a diversion, remembering Anders' wistful look whenever he dealt with children at his clinic. I wasn't sure if there was a good way to ever broach the topic as long as Justice was active. Children might even provoke the spirit more as a distraction from his mission. I'd never even dared to mention marriage to him, who would marry us if he even wanted it? What did any vows from him mean? No, I'd never marry like my oldest friend had.

She flushed and waved her hand to resign the topic, admitting, “We're thinking of heading to either Highever or Denerim. Teyrn Cousland has one of the larger standing forces and royal favor now. Denerim should have more groups of mercenaries.”

I admitted, “I can't go too far from Ferelden as long as I have Bigpaws, but beyond that I have no idea right now”

“Highever is known for their kennels, though I heard Amaranthine and Redcliff have growing mabari companies too since the blight,” Aveline admitted with a grin. “Maybe I could get one someday,”

“Having your puppy try to settle on your lap when he's gotten too big is awkward and funny,” I grinned. “Not to mention that no bed is big enough.”

With a punch to my shoulder, she said, “Maybe you should get another mabari soon or see if he can go to stud in return for one puppy.”

“You're right,” I admitted, though that might play havoc with my planned cover.

“You need this, Aldera,” Aveline told me more sternly, “Something for you that the ass won't dare take away. When has a mabari ever done anything unjust to its owner?” Pausing a moment more, looking at the sun, she added, “We need to go, if we're to find shelter before dark.”

It was almost mid-afternoon and we still weren't that far from Kirkwall in the one day since the Chantry blew. Any Gallows records of us should be intact for hiring bounty hunters, so I stood and turned to go back to the cave, trying to plan. She touched my arm and pointed at her face. I wiped with a damp rag, feeling embarrassed at the second gentle reminder today after one from Merrill earlier.

I felt bad when I realized the others were essentially guarding Anders. He was pretending to sleep with his arms crossed. His eyes opened into slits for an instant with a sliver of blue instead of his own warmer brown, then returned when our eyes met after a second or two. A few more words with Aveline and Donnic, then one last collection of hugs from Merrill, Varric, and I, and they left. We left camp after that, with Merrill leading through older trails towards the Bone Pit, which had such an fatal reputation that few would follow us to that mine at first.

Our travel was quiet, Varric would hum or chat with Merrill. I'd reply only if spoken to directly, while Fenris and Anders spoke even less than I. The most cheerful of us was Bigpaws, who wanted to fetch sticks for me whenever possible. Hours passed in near silence. No one found us or attacked. I only concentrated on moving forward and watching for attacks.

We stopped at dusk to make camp, and I was still exhausted when I made my way across the campsite to get some water for dinner and washing. I approached Anders and he said bitterly to me without even looking me in the eyes, “You deign to see the prisoner? Will I have only a more scenic prison than before?”

I stopped my approach in a graceless skid, unable to breathe, afraid to even try to check if he was more Anders or more Justice. I didn't know which would be worse. So I turned away, croaking out through a tight throat, “Leave if you want, I will not ever imprison you.” No matter how much I long to hold you...

I wanted to break something, to scream, to rend my hair, to just bawl my eyes out, so I settled for running into the brush. I could not stay and watch him leave me, not after all that had happened. Right then I didn't care if I found some beasts or went over a cliff. I ran until I had a stitch in my side, but I must have been under the Maker's protection as I came to a stop in some scrub on a rocky hillside. Sitting in the lee of a wizened brush, I huddled again, holding myself and trying not to sob.

Soon a sloppy lick told me Bigpaws had followed me. I hugged him and cried again, with a bitter voice inside me saying that this desert was all I deserved after letting Anders live. It didn't even sound like Vael.

Chapter 5: What Do You Want?

Summary:

A confrontation in the dark, long overdue between Aldera and Anders.

-- near Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast

Anders:

Varric took a swig from his flask, and said quietly, “Blondie, you have somehow nearly managed to match your idiocy from yesterday. Good work.” His sarcasm dripped.

Fenris began to clean his blade, his contempt even more palpable.

Merrill frowned and wouldn't meet my eyes as she prepared a cooking fire.

I'd almost felt like I'd been in iron shackles all afternoon, with four disapproving Templars who would be impossible to trick and escape from

Fenris looked me in the eye when I started to speak and snarled, “Don't bother.”

They did not even look at me when I circled the half-settled camp. I kept looking off towards where Hawke had disappeared, and realized her dog had gone too.

I could walk away in the other direction with the way they were deliberately ignoring me. I could feel Justice's wordless approval of this.

Looking again after where she'd gone, the sounds of her movement through the brush had ended some time ago. Suddenly worried at that silence, I lit a ball of fire and followed after her, using my staff for balance in the dark.

Not having that much in the way of tracking skills, I wasn't sure if I even was going in the right direction after I lost sight of the camp. The trees were thinning and ground got rockier. I looked around and realized I had no idea where I was, nor where Hawke was.

I didn't want those to be my last words to her, I wanted so much more until the damn Calling pulled me down. I had years left, but that hung over me some quiet days as much as the Circle and Templars.

Justice didn't seem bothered by that though, his first host had had far less time as a warden.

I'd almost have to trip over her to find her in this wilderness. I'd slept with her close to me for years, even if we hadn't done any more than hold each other many times.

It felt like it was getting late, and all I could think of was lighting a column of flame and hope that it was someone friendly that found me. That would be too stupid, as much as I was tempted.

Help me find her, Justice! She's been a target of the Templars all her life, and we've wronged her, too. I demanded into the silence of my mind. I'd lost so many spells after we merged, spells and skills I remembered wielding against the Architect, but the new ones I learned after Justice were not the same. There was a silence, but nothing happened after my demand.

Getting my bearing again from the blurry moon, I continued on, praying the Maker would pity me and I'd find her, despite...

After what seemed like forever I heard a muffled whuff behind me. Turning that way carefully, I found her not that many steps in that direction, clutching her mabari in her sleep again.

One always faithful to her, I thought sadly.

I knelt at her back and carefully rubbed her shoulders. She uncurled after a bit and hummed sleepily. Kissing along her shoulder, I finally asked quietly, “Hawke?” After no reaction, I leaned closer and asked, “Aldera?”

As she stiffened a bit, I resumed my work on her shoulders until she sat up with a shudder. There was a rock in my stomach as she turned to face me with her war dog at her back, not me.

We looked at each other in the dim light of my staff, in silence.

In a raspy voice she asked, “What do you want from me? I don't know anymore. I thought I knew you. I even thought I might be able to forgive you for that horror, but I can't go on like this.”

Even though I'd said that so many times in the years after the Qun battle, it hurt to hear her say it now.

I wanted to pull her close and sink into her, I wanted to be by her side for the rest of her days, I wanted to see her smile like she used to, and I wanted her family, our family, every family with a mage, to be free of what we'd endured, being hunted and hated.

Taking her hands, I admitted, tossing sworn secrets to the winds, “I want everything for us, but what chance of happiness did we have between the Templars and the Chantry hunting me as an apostate or abomination, and my taint as a Warden? We carry taint not just from any darkspawn, but the Archdemon. I... I have maybe twenty years at most left before my Calling into the Deep Roads and few Wardens can have children. An extra prize for feeling when darkspawn are near. Then I will have to go down into that darkness and crushing weight for one last battle, taking as many of them as I can with me when I go. We hear the darkspawn after our Joining, and many do not survive that cup. I was lucky that only one did at my ceremony, but it's often more. The senior Wardens could hear the Archdemon's call to the darkspawn during the Blight, even if I missed that, thank the Maker. That even assumes I can stay free of the Templars and Chantry. Apostate mage, abomination, darkspawn-tainted, there's so little left of Anders to give you, my dear.”

“I only ever wanted your heart and trust,” Dera said, cupping my cheek sadly. “Did I ever have it?”

Clasping her hand on my face as I closed my eyes, kissing her palm and wrist. That had to be enough as she knelt in front of me. I just wanted to hold her close and breathe her scent, the clean, fresh breeze of her own self. I thought back to hundreds of skirmishes, conversations, and sex in tender love and urgent lust. She'd suddenly appear at my back when I needed help in combat, helped with my clinic, and helped me keep my sanity this many years. But her hand dropped as I tried to find the words.

I had to open my eyes and say, “I've trusted you with my life and soul for years. I want to protect you from the darkness in me, from my seeking justice for mages. I'd gotten too famous in Amaranthine and once I couldn't pretend the Circles would get better on their own, I had to act despite the cost. You are the brightest light in my life. I wanted you safe from the consequences of my actions.”

“Look how well that worked out,” Hawke said with a little bitterness. “And I felt sorry for Orsino, caught between Meredith and you. It's far too late now, you may win the war, but you've lost the battle for Kirkwall and its Circle mages. Orsino is as much a victim of that blast as Elthina. What do you think a king would do with general who did that?”

“There's no king there,” I objected for her question.

“No, and there never has been,” Dera said with irritation. “You know that wasn't my meaning. They've never had anything like the Banns or Landsmeet where even the great Teyrns had to bow to pressure from below. All there's been is revolts from the oppressed but precious little real change. You need something better or some new asshole will grab the power. Who are the asses left in Kirkwall, who will replace Meredith with the approval of far too many who saw their homes and family burn from what you did?”

“The next Knight-Commander will have to be better than her!” I told with our ire rising.

Taking my hands with a brief caress, she asked, “Didn't you think any Viscount had to be better than the last one? But having no one was worse. I read a lot of those histories while you copied out your manifestos. Think, you're a healer, how long would she have lived with that much lyrium poisoning? I wonder what happened to the smith, as Varric got odd very quickly on only a fragment of that idol and dwarves are resistant to magic, right?”

It felt so good to be talking with her like this again, looking ahead, and I squeezed her hands tightly like a lifeline, saying, “Maybe it was Bartrand, we could ask Varric if that's possible, or if he could track it down now that we know where it ended up. We don't know how much of the idol was used for that sword.”

Suddenly I had to laugh at an idea and pull her over into my lap, thankful she let me.

“I've missed your laugh, Anders,” Dera said, leaning back against me.

“Just remembered that Meredith caused the largest outpouring of magic I've ever heard of, all by herself. She should have gotten locked up by the Templars, right? I'd have paid to see her made tranquil,” I had to say with a grin.

Wriggling closer with a chuckle, Dera reached up to run her fingers over my growing beard, waking less intellectual thoughts, Moving my legs so she slid lower in my lap, I grazed her neck with my lips.

“Anders...” she said breathlessly, turning towards me.

“Later, my Champion, truly,” I muttered into her already loose hair, reaching for the hooks under her leather armor as I felt her fingers reach through my robes to my chest.

Maybe Fade spirits never quite understood love, only its trappings, but I felt more whole like this, more like the mage who once was. Her giggles filled me and I chuckled and repeated tickling her until she couldn't laugh any more. Then we got more serious and intent until we collapsed in the middle of our discarded clothing and armor.

Brushing her nipples, I asked in as flat a voice as I could manage while smirking, “So what ideas do you have for our fugitive state?”

Choking, Dera wriggled and muttered, “Don't ask if you don't really want to know right now.”

That stopped me, “You do? What?”

Dera said without a smile while brushing my cheek, “Why do you think I wasn't paying attention this afternoon? I do have some things we'll have to do after we're alone. We'll need more than just new names and appearances, but also a plan and an escape plan at all times.”

I had to frown at this, as I'd been hunted before.

With a weak smile, Dera admitted, “I'm not at all sure if this is my birth name. Didn't you ever think it was strange that our names were in the order of Aldera, Bethany, and Carver? Actually, my mother usually dealt with other people when we moved around. Papa was always the 'unskilled' worker who took care of us, especially Bethany. How often have you changed everything when you escaped? You haven't even really changed clothing styles much since we met, just changed to black.”

“They always hunted me with my phylactery, so why bother?” I wondered.

“They told you they did, but was it true? You keep dressing the same way, that had to make it easier and not need any magic,” Dera said while patting my shoulder.

“But I'm comfortable dressing like this,” I protested.

Snorting, she traced fingers delicately along my chest and downward, asking, “Since when haven't you?”

Grabbing her wrist, I said with a half grin, “You know what I meant.”

“But it was such an opportunity!” she laughed. Her voice turning more serious, Dera added, “Not that I'm going to be comfortable either, I hate skirts and robes, but that will be less noticeable than armor, especially if we go into more settled areas.”

I started to make a joke, but pulled her closer and sighed as I asked, “What now? I can't stop trying to help my brother and sister mages.”

“Did I ever demand that, or even hinted at it? There are so many victims of injustice there, and I wanted to help them all, not just the mages” Dera said with a grimmer voice as she sat up.

I could feel Justice reacting, but shoved him far down inside me. He'd had enough blood for a while.

“But it takes time for people like me to make change, without real rank or power. Rogues and jumped-up adventurers are easy to ignore, and Kirkwall's nobility made that very clear after we moved into Hightown. It was all 'Invest with me,' 'See my pretty son or daughter,' and 'Kill this monster.' Not that I was much more than a novelty or muscle to them. Being 'Champion' gave me no political power for change. I was a pretty totem, a statue to admire, not someone whose opinion counted for much.”

Taking a calming breath, Dera admitted, “Not that killing a leader really means I should have any power, else the Arishok would have been the next viscount. I thought I was just reaching the point where enough nobles owed me favors that I could make things change. I even had hopes for a few of the Templars, or even an appeal to the White Divine. This has to have been a problem elsewhere before, even if in public the Chantry is silent. Sebastian might have even helped, and there he had much more experience and pull than me.”

“I thought you were fence-sitting, like Elthina, despite all the mages you'd helped,” I cried in remembered pain. “I knew you cared, but you didn't speak out.”

“I did speak for Orsino and about a Circle mage, and it wasn't enough to help,” Hawke said sadly. “I had to evade attention for a while until I could make a decisive move. I didn't have anywhere near the political power to take the Knight-Commander on, they'd just appeal for a March on Kirkwall. She had to be removed from power, legally. But it was taking so long to make friends. I'm not that convincing, it seems.”

Things I hadn't really noticed clicked into place, all those missions, even for Templars and chantry who I didn't trust, even for Meredith. Sighing, I pointed out, “You were drifting into politics after all.”

“Kicking and screaming, I guess,” Hawke said with a flush I could see even in the dim light. “I didn't think assassinating Meredith would change anything, that would reenforce their dumber opinions. Even if it would have been almost quick and easy. I wasn't quite ready to die to stop her that way...” She swallowed loud enough that I could hear and she said in a tight voice, “I'm sorry, my love. I should have done it long before you'd gotten that desperate.”

“No, no, no...” was all I could say, holding her too tightly against me. That would have killed me too, my imagination painted what would have happened all too quickly. Her hanging, neck not broken so it was slow torture, her corpse being spurned and displayed, or worse she might have had just enough magic in her blood to be made a Tranquil example, pawn of asses like Aldrick, “Maker, no!”

Sighing, Hawke continued, “Moving Cullen into the top spot because he believed she was wrong would make him less militant in continuing her policies. He knew Bethany was apostate some time before the Deep Roads. Almost as important for the future as removing her in a kind of clean sweep.”

She didn't remind me this kind of transfer couldn't happen now.

“What about...” I protested.

“I liked her,” she said with a flash of anger in her voice. “She was a woman of great faith and some pragmatism, if not enough. She would have been a good leader for another place that didn't have repeated oppressions and revolts. She allowed herself to be ineffective in Kirkwall politics by letting the Templars run without check, refusing to support her entire flock, whether refugees, elves or mages. The Maker isn't just for Hightown. I asked her many times myself and was trying to get Sebastian convinced too. Can you honestly think the next Revered Mother will be more passive and peaceful than her or more militant?”

“They could not last that long in the Gallows Circle! Would you be as willing to wait if they'd taken Bethany?” I demanded with my anger.

Hawke stiffened in the dark, and after a moment admitted slowly, “No. I'd do my best to get her out and head for another kingdom, another name. They lose interest if you keep your head low. I don't know if I'm even worried about her passing a Harrowing, as Papa had passed his, it's her being trapped and a plaything for asses like Aldrick that haunted me. She always was the sweetest of our family, and that place and all the darkness and black stone would change her for the worse. She changed so much after her Joining, but she has more freedom with the Wardens.”

“Why didn't you tell me all this?” I asked, getting more pissed, “Nothing was improving, things were getting so much worse.”

Bigpaws whined almost the same instant that she took an unsteady breath, “I guess I was wrong. I thought all those favors and tasks earning goodwill and allies were obvious. You came along on almost all of them, I thought you knew. Even taking Sebastian to save a kidnapped girl or to stop the usual violent blood mages could remind him you weren't a slavering abomination, but mostly a healer and still very human. Any money was much less important than being an example of sanity, for both of us. Even making friends with that Qunari looking for those swords, might give us a payback someday.”

Constantly together, we still managed to work at cross purposes, so I shifted topics with a frown, “Did the Circle have your father's phylactery? Did you have a way to beat that?”

“As far as we knew, yes, they had it,” Dera said sadly, beginning to speak more slowly with a yawn. “I reckon there was enough blood mages an'... other problems we wasn't enough of a priority. I don't think we had to flee since I was little 'cause someone was looking for him. Usually from using magic after someone was hurt, or Bethany learnin'... control.”

I had to smile for an instant as her speech so rarely shifted like this when she was tired.

“They will be angry enough to contact Kinloch Hold,” I admitted, wondering if anyone friendly to me was now First Enchanter, or maybe my phylactery had been lost during the Blight. I hadn't even thought about it for years as Meredith knew where I lived since Hawke became Champion. And dead men didn't need to worry about it

Sidling closer, she repeated slowly, sounding sleepy again, “I'll kill anyone who tries to take you away, rather they don't catch us.”

She swayed as she said this, so I gave her a kiss and settled us down so we were spooning together under my coat. I still had a slight smile on my lips at her drowsy ferocity, “I will as well for you, my dear, even if I think more will hunt me. After all why would a Templar search as hard for you, my roguish one?”

Chapter 6: Trust Issues

Summary:

With the emergency past and a safe distance from Kirkwall, some things cannot be further delayed. Friendship is not blind.

-- near Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast

Aldera Hawke:

Bigpaws nosed me awake not that long after dawn, it looked like he'd found himself something to drink from his wet muzzle.

I felt a bit better about the mage now holding me tightly in his sleep. Maker, his was possibly the worst screw-up in all the years since the previous Blight, hundreds of years ago. I still haven't seen anything to make me think he wants power over others like Fenris and Sebastian feared.

Then again I was wrong before.

From his even breathing, he was sleeping better than in quite a while, but we couldn't spare the time to rest up. I still needed to speak with the others before I would say farewell to them. Yesterday, I'd been exhausted and numb, not noticing much more than putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn't put off planning any longer. Fleeing aimlessly would not be safe, we needed those plans.

Twisting a little, I called quietly for him to wake. He grumbled a little, but he looked alert soon enough and we redressed. I asked Paws to find Merrill and he led us back with only a few detours.

Merrill was making some tea or something, which I smelled only slightly before I saw the camp. Bigpaws bounded off chasing something as soon as we made it to the camp. He's always been glad to get out of the city, so I let him go.

Varric seemed to be reading my journal again from my pack, even if it was lacking anything on recent events, With all the sneaky things I'd done over the years, it would be a bit two-faced to object to him invading my privacy, so I rarely bothered. I just hoped he could resist spreading tales of my personal life to strangers, he could tell tales of the ten demons I slayed with the spear I made from a dragon I killed with a butter knife and a bathtub of tar, but no one really believed that kind of silly tavern tale.

Fenris was doing some kind if martial exercise with either his shadow or an insect. All was routine camp activity.

Varric looked up and said seriously, “About time you came back, Hardy.”

I was afraid to ask where that new nickname came from, as he usually called me Hawke or Buttercup if he was joking. He was looking serious, and I dreaded if he decided I needed an 'I told you so.' I didn't think I could take that right now.

Nodding back, I tried to say diplomatically, “I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to leave like that las...”

“You did because of the selfishness and cruelty of some Magister shit, who thinks his power allows him to do as he wants to those who cannot fight back,” Fenris interrupted with a growl. “Abominati

ons make themselves clear by death and madness. That is what he is now. Even if he took a slash for every ten deaths, he'd be dead. His demon would have to return until it found as foolish a host.”

I could feel the warmth of Anders close against me, but I couldn't quite argue with that completely, “He's a little crazy, and made a stupid decision. But it was a human decision, not a demon one.”

“Demons are very persuasive, until they own the mage and can do what they want,” Fenris said as he glared over my shoulder. “Can you honestly tell me he did not use your lust for him last night?”

A growl from behind me and I was afraid this would explode into a violence where everyone loses. I moved the half step back to press myself against Anders, even as I felt my face warm. Usually no one really made direct comments like this. Well, aside from Isabela, but she was long gone.

“I can't prove he didn't do that,” I objected, stalling for a few seconds until some other argument occurred to me. “You can't prove I didn't use his lust for me last night. How could I prove he's not insane? Being different or hunted by enemies shouldn't be a death sentence.”

“But killing that many people is,” Fenris challenged. “How many others have you removed for killing far fewer?”

My throat got tight, as I had. I loved Anders, and still thought he could still do a lot of good. Maybe enough to prove he wasn't mad or evil, just desperate. I didn't think that my being in love was enough of a convincing argument for Fenris. I had to look back up at Anders, as I was running out of arguments and I hoped he wasn't getting angry enough for Justice to take a hand.

He wasn't, he just looked sad and tired. His hand brushing along my back, Anders stepped around me and off to my right, saying, “I will never again submit to Chantry or Templar rule.”

I was so glad he was holding his temper that I for a moment missed that Fenris had raised his great sword for attack. I jumped to try to bowl Anders over and out of the way of that swing, shouting, “No!”

Fenris never lost his footing in combat, this was Anders' only chance.

But I stopped moving, with a layer of ice encasing me for an endless instant. My shouting only rang on inside my head as the blade swung towards Anders, and my shout became a wail only I could hear.

Anders had turned towards me with my shout, his eyes still their clean brown even as the blade swung at him. I had to watch as my heart broke again in even smaller pieces.

His body fell limply even as I could move again. Turning to him, his blood was gushing, like some Fade-blasted nightmare I refused to remember. Anders' eyes already fading, I looked around for anything to help him and saw my pack only a few steps away. The two pungent preservation grenades remained of the three I'd bought for fighting Meredith, and one was on top. I tossed it next to Anders and followed with my pack, entering the cloud and making my sinuses ache too.

Through the cloud, I could see him blinking again, even if he was still covered with his own dripping blood. I pulled a healing drought and fed it to him, scared at how deep the cut had gone through his neck. He took a breath, and aside from a single burble of air through the blood on his neck, he breathed normally.

I didn't want to disturb the healing, so I grabbed his arms and babbled something to him, my eyes filling. Another pair of slim hands then handed me rags to help mop up the blood, humming an odd little cheerful tune.

Finally awake once again to people around me, I looked at them. Merrill looked solemn and the tiniest bit embarrassed. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Varric was holding his cocked crossbow Bianca, and looked unusually grim.

Fenris was glowing, both with satisfaction and from his tattoos. His anger a heavy weight in the air, though there was still the tiniest line of blood dripping from the sword.

Those grenades had not been near the top, they'd been packed in a protected spot. I understood them, their anger and fear then, too well. I couldn't fight them, my friends, not when I mostly agreed with them... No.

Brushing some blood-wet hair from Anders' face as I looked into his eyes, I asked them, tasting bitter ashes, “Will you let us go?”

“You can go, Hawke,” Fenris growled.

Anders mouthed the word, 'Go,' to me.

Forcing a smile, I shook my head and said to him, “We stopped Meredith, my love. That should be enough for one lifetime.”

“Go,” he said with a flash of the power of the Fade. Or maybe his own, as Justice never approved of me.

I started helping him sit up enough that I could hold him, saying to Fenris even if I wouldn't look at the warrior, “Make it quick if you must.”

After a tiny, bloody cough, Anders said in a damaged voice, “Hawke, please! Please, Dera, I knew what this would cost me. Don't make it worse.”

Leaning closer, so only he could hear me for a moment, I whispered into his ear, “For the rest of my life.” The Maker heard my promise. If the Maker wouldn't listen to us anymore, it didn't matter that much as I meant it anyway. I wouldn't fight my friends when they were right too. What had happened was wrong, even if I wanted him to live.

“Dera,” he begged.

“At least I won't have to wear some stupid skirt,” I told him with a wide smile, my eyes filling. “Never did master walking in one. Bethany always said I walked like a boy.”

Smiling faintly at me, Anders reached his arms around me to whisper, “I'm sorry.”

Hugging him too, I closed my eyes and counted our breaths as we waited whatever would come.

“Enough, Fenris,” came from Varric after a lifetime and an instant.

I turned my face towards them, only empty and curious now.

“I told you there wasn't a demon in control of him!” Merrill exclaimed.

Fenris snarled at her, with his sword still raised, “As if I would believe the word of a blood mage for this.”

I was so tired, I'd been wrong that my family being hunted was bad. We always had each other. I just realized Anders and I never really should trust anyone again, and oh, that was so bitter. I just wanted to help people, even idiots like my Anders.

Turning, I kept an arm around Anders and asked them with my face a stiff mask, “What now?”

“Now, Hardy, you have company. At least until we're sure the man is in control of the spirit again. He loses that again, and we'll put it down like all the others, even if you get in the way,” Varric said, still sounding angry.

Hope lit like a match in the Deep Roads, and it burned painfully. Even so, there went much of my immediate plans for disguise as I didn't think they'd be able or willing to hide like that.

When I looked up at Anders, he only looked resigned, so I rubbed his back. Meeting Varric's eyes for a long moment, I asked again, “What do you want us to do next?”

“Whatever you were planning an hour ago, Buttercup,” he said gravely. “We're just here to keep an eye on him until we're sure he's not going to anything like that again.”

Having my friends with me never felt like manacles before, Anders had seen it yesterday where I'd been planning or numb. Still, I tried to remember some of the things Anders and I had discussed as I rubbed his back with my one hand.

I was trying to make things normal again with talking, even if I felt like I was only drowning, grabbing for a slippery log in storm-deep water.

Looking away from Anders again, I said to the dwarf, “One thing we wondered, was your brother a smith? Could he have made her blade, or is someone else nearly as poisoned by that lyrium? Could there have been a second sword or more items made from that idol? Is there yet more of that cursed ore if it was made into lots of an alloy?”

His face darkened and Varric swore vilely, even for Kirkwall. After a minute or two he stopped to say, “No, Bartrand still wanted to fancy himself of a noble house, he wouldn't dirty his hands with smith work. Someone else must have made that blade for her. I will have to see if some of my relatives can make a contact in the Templars who can access records on the smith and idol.” He patted Bianca absently where his newer rune was, as he spoke.

I was just glad he wasn't looking so grim, with a new secret to track down. Anders looked almost normal now, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief. He reached with his left hand to take my right with a faint smile.

“This isn't over,” Fenris grated in warning from above.

Too tired and heart-sore to really care all that much, I snarled back, “Kill us or don't, but don't expect us to dance to a master's tune. I never allowed that when I was on the other side of the blades, and I won't do it now on this side.”

Fenris looked like I'd slapped him. I wanted to. How quickly people forget when they have the power. I'd long thought his obsession against mages might cause him to do something stupid. He still had trouble seeing that mages here were not the masters anywhere but Tevinter.

Anders squeezed my hand, though his blood-spattered face was blank and eerily calm.

“Would those be stately or festive tunes 'bein danced to? No one has ever said. It always sounds like it should be a grimmer dance, but how many grim tunes are really suited for dancing? Are masters also master musicians that they can play for long events?” Merrill wondered.

I looked at Merrill, never quite sure if she was unaware of the tension or this was her subtle way to break it. Her Keeper training was so different than Anders' was, and I had hoped for her help in the Planasene Forest going west. Staying along the coast might not be a good idea, and I didn't know what country might be safe for us to go to.

Fenris didn't seem to care about subtlety, and just growled in annoyance at what she said.

Now, I didn't plan to discuss anything about our own plans until we were alone. That had become the cost of the ambush, I couldn't tell them anything about my... our plans.

Anders spoke, “Aside from the lyrium idol and sword, those statues she made walk and attack may have that much magic folded into them somehow. That trophy you want may be useful for anything from runes to weapons to armor. That warning should go out.”

Varric grumbled, “Any more good news to share, Blondie?”

With the tiniest quirk of a smile, Anders admitted, “Not unless you want to note the obvious that the veil to the Fade will be even thinner in several places in Kirkwall, making that haunting at your brother's look like a tea party. There are few enough with the knowledge of or experience in mending the Veil, and the ones I know of were in Ferelden.” Sighing he added, “It really is shortsighted that none were allowed to do serious research as to why Kirkwall's mages went to blood magic so much. I can say that the incidence in Ferelden's tower is much, much lower. Why here?”

The heavy silence after that dragged on. I knew I was being a little petty, but I let it, just holding on to Anders.

At last Merrill asked, “Well? What are we to be doing next?”

I shrugged that I didn't know. That got me a growl and glare from Varric and Fenris. It really wasn't my problem now, they'd have to figure it out this time. I closed my eyes, to help seem disinterested, though I was anything but.

Varric pressed, “Hawke.”

I opened my eyes and smiled a little of my bitterness at him, “I have no leadership or moral ground here now, as has been amply shown just now. Why ask me if you don't trust my judgment?”

All three of them winced in some way, and I returned to trying to doze, simply enjoying Anders' arms around me. I actually felt like I was an immense ear, estimating what would happen next and how we might get away. I was counting on the fact they would be reluctant to attack me while I 'dozed.'

“Don't make this harder, Hawke,” Varric warned.

I just looked at him and wondered, “Harder than what? You don't trust Anders. I agree, I can't trust him that much either right now.” I rubbed his back for an instant, though we had to work that out. “You don't trust my judgment anymore, I missed some clues as this built up, like an embroidered pillow as a gift,” said to remind him I wasn't the only one to miss things. “And I refused to murder him for that screw-up. So I'm not the leader you storytellers claim, nor even what I'd thought of myself, to be able to help my friends with their woes. Where does that leave any ideas I have? I can't do much if you don't trust me.”

Getting angry, Varric again said, “Hawke!”

Anders squeezed my hand again, but I had no idea what he meant by it.

“What, I say again? I can't make decisions or speak for the group if you don't have my back. I asked your opinions, but you let me decide. You don't trust my decisions if you decided to spring your little ambush without speaking to me,” I let my anger free a little. They were still my friends, but this changed everything as much as I hated it. “You can't have it both ways, with me leading and me being a watched prisoner. Both cannot be true.”

I was only just angry enough that I wasn't crying, because I'd seized my anger like one of Aveline's shields.

“I'm sorry, Hawke,” Merrill said quietly, looking much as she had after Sundermount.

Sighing, I agreed, “So am I. I'm not the Champion of Kirkwall anymore, if that ever meant anything. I'm disgraced murderer and traitor to the Chantry, a fool at best, despite going through all the battles and shit where I tried to help the most people without being cruel.”

Anders winced as I spoke, but I squeezed his hand as this had to come out. It would have been a milder, gentler discussion if there'd been no ambush. I could not trust any of them now as I used to without any doubts, including him.

“All we can do now is try to survive and stay free without doing harm to innocents. Maybe the Maker will let us help some people along the way and avoid the people who want us dead,” I said with a sigh, “What else can fugitives do?”

The truth of that hit me like a barrel of bricks, and I turned to burrow my head against Anders' chest in the silence while he hugged me tightly.

Chapter 7: Judgements

Summary:

Not all trials happen in a courtroom, and answers are demanded. Answers for questions that have no simple answers and not all departures are as happy.

-- Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast

Anders:

I wanted to weep myself, as the last of Hawke's life was falling apart while I watched. I could feel Justice stir a little, but we were the ones that started this collapse, not her, not them. I never wanted her trapped like this, and perhaps I had grown as weak as Vengeance claimed that I only held her tightly. I'd be willing for almost any life if I had her too. I did not seek death, but I was ready for it. Not for her.

I could see now that even if I died and she lived, this was already broken. Dera only shook as I caressed her hair for that long moment. I was at a loss, only holding her close to me.

We, the joining that was once Anders, the apostate warden, and Justice, spirit of the Fade, looked out on them and saw the time for mortal diplomacy was past. We agreed firmly that this was not quite the realm of vengeance, because of those friendships' memories, but that time had passed. At least for now, piped up part of us. They were not a threat to other mages, more to us and her. And for those friendships came a trace of mercy, long forgotten, from a hidden corner of us.

Anders held her and crooned for that long moment as we judged.

I felt Justice manifest and my skin crawled from that energy of the Fade. Hawke stiffened and looked up at my face with worry, probably as he'd never manifested like this while we touched before. I could not smile, but I did run my fingers over her hair for another second.

Still holding her close, we demanded, “Decide. Justice, Mercy, or Vengeance? All mortals that dream, feed and draw from the Fade and so can choose any or none of these spirits. These bonds of friendship here have been rended, perhaps beyond repair. This distraction serves no purpose, risking your escape from the Templars' allies. Soon there will be only ashes and you will be no more certain than you are now.”

I dimly heard a gasp, perhaps from Merrill, but we were choosing our words, “Kill us or free us, but do not keep us in chains or you are as bad as slavers or Templars.”

With that said, I could feel Justice step back a little. I still saw our light reflecting off Hawke and I had enough control to lift her chin to meet our eyes and smile a little. I could make it quick and prevent our being taken alive if it came to that. If they did not jump back enough, that was their problem.

Hawke tried to smile back, but turned and laid her cheek against our chest again.

All was silence beyond us when Varric finally said, “Shit, Hawke, I never meant it to go this far. You should know I respect you, but Anders is now far beyond being just being a dangerous mage.”

With a sigh, Hawke turned within my arms to face them and said with a catch in her voice, “I don't have any answers, I only wanted to say a proper goodbyes before we parted.”

“That we can still do, Hawke,” Merrill said with her voice wobbly too.

“I seriously doubt we'll ever return to Kirkwall. I stayed after the Deep Roads because of Mother, and I hoped to improve things. There were so many who needed help there.” Looking up at me, Hawke added with a small smile, “Even certain idiot mages.”

Hugging her tightly for a moment, I could feel Justice finish turning his attention away as my skin cooled. I could not regret she had stayed, for myself at least. I couldn't imagine my life otherwise.

Stiffly, Fenris said, “I do not know what I will do now. My own goals finished, I think I find myself at a loss to choose a path.” He looked up into the sky and said, “Perhaps I have allowed others to choose my destiny for too long, whether for their idealism or their cruelty.”

“I hope you choose better things, as cruelty is easier. Most friendships don't have tests as violent as this,” Hawke admitted.

“I think friendships will be strained as long as there are oppressors, whether Magister, Templar, or shemlen lordling,” I suggested. “There is little difference between chains and cages, no matter their official names. Trapped is trapped.”

“Mages are dangerous,” Fenris grated out yet again.

Touching the tender, just-healed skin at my neck I added with my own snarl, “So are swordsmen... so are rogues. How many combat mages have you and Hawke destroyed with barely a scratch? Dwarves can make explosions without magic of their own, ones large enough to collapse immense thaigs and destroy darkspawn...” I had to pause here.

“You cannot lock up everyone who just might be a threat.” I doubted I could convince him today, if I'd ever had the chance. “All I hope is that you realize not all mages want power, any more than all sword fighters.” I sighed and added, “Kirkwall is not the place to see less oppression than what you knew in Tevinter.”

With a slight smile, Fenris said wryly, “Now you sound like the annoying mage I knew.”

“I'm still myself for the most part. Hawke has talked me down when I get too angry,” I said with a caress of her cheek. “I argued with Justice many times in Amaranthine on different things. Nathaniel and the Warden Commander told us to shut up a time or two.”

Hawke laughed, to my secret joy, saying, “That works? I should have done that more often.” She sobered and said, “I will miss you, Fenris, whatever happened.”

After a pause, Fenris said to Hawke with the smallest lightening of his face, “Goodbye, my friend.” To me he bared his teeth in a silent snarl, “I will find you if you are a threat again,” before he stalked away.

“Can't resist trying to convince him, eh, Blondie?” Varric said with a journal in his hands.

“It's too easy for people to forget when good mages are kept caged in the Towers like animals, while the Blood mages run free,” I admitted.

“I wonder where all the mages that work for the gangs and blood mages come from? They can't be all Circle escapees, can they? We've killed too many for that, unless every single Circle escapee crosses our path instead of hiding or bothering someone else,” Hawk wondered in a quiet voice.

She sounded a little better, but I still worried as I shook my head at her question.

“That is an interesting idea, with how many popped up in the last few weeks,” Varric looked thoughtful.

Hawke shrugged at his interest, as we couldn't learn anything if we hid in the wilderness. If things were normal Varric and Hawke could talk about that for hours.

“I haven't seen many who might have learned from a Keeper,” Merrill said quietly. “They would not teach humans, not without any blood of the People.”

She had been so quiet, I'd thought she'd already left.

Our talk stopped again, but it wasn't as brittle a silence this time. I sank to sit, and pulled Hawke down with me as I didn't think we were about to be attacked.

“I'm sorry, Hardy,” Varric said after a few more minutes of silence. “I can't forget that explosion, even if the real goal was different.”

Straightening up, Hawke admitted, “Me neither.” Turning away from me, she added sadly, “I don't like that I can't stop crying.”

She still held my hand tightly, even if I couldn't say anything to help. I didn't know what to do either. I thought I should have nightmares of those deaths for the rest of my life, as much as I'd thought it was needed. But I still couldn't dream, and the lack of the nightmares was unsettling, a weight over my head.

After another pause he added, “I'll go. Raise some children and pets somewhere quiet. I'll get back to the Hanged Man when things settle down.”

“Be careful, Varric. I don't want anything to happen to you,” Hawke said with a more normal smile.

Then she stood and closed to hug him, which he did return. Sounding hesitant, she asked him, “What's the nickname for?”

Glaring at me for a moment, he said grimly, “Foolhardy.”

Looking sad, she admitted, “I was wondering when I'd get your 'I told you so,' Varric.”

I could see her wince before she'd spoken. My actions earned her a mocking nickname, and I couldn't help her with that at all. “Are you sure you don't want that pillow? I don't think we have anything else, and you have been a friend.”

“I'd far rather you had kept to dreaming about killing Templars, Blondie,” Varric said, sounding old.

Shaking my head, I admitted, “I haven't dreamt about that for years.”

He nodded at that, picked up his pack and said, “I'd better see if I can catch up with Broody for traveling. See ya 'round, Hawke.”

With that he turned and left as casually as if he was returning to his suite at the inn.

Hawke looked like she wanted to weep again, but she returned to sit by me. Turning to Merrill she asked, “What are you thinking of doing now?”

“I thought I might stay for a time,” she said with one of her small smiles to us. “Just to be sure the two of you won't starve or freeze in the wilderness.”

This felt so very odd to me that she'd stay, as we'd argued so many times over blood magic and avoiding notice. Those arguments were pointless now, she'd get less notice without us.

Hawke lost a lot of tension as the elf spoke, and looked happier than I'd seen her for too long a time, like a dawn after a long night. I was still in that night and was a little jealous of the other mage for causing that, even if Hawke was still holding me.

Merrill settled near us and spoke quietly, as if considering it herself, “I am sorry we did not speak to you first, Hawke. You always spoke with me even if you don't like my magic, and helped me with my clan and when I grieved my Keeper. I don't know why we were so afraid of only talk.”

She was barely looking at me, even if we all knew it wasn't Hawke who made them wary.

“The spirit is calmer now,” I admitted, not knowing how long that would last.

“You have often said it was more a merging than possession, and you could not be separated like Feynriel,” Merrill admitted.

“Justice and I agreed on most things, just not everything,” I said, thinking of my talks with him after the Mother and Architect. He'd also disapproved of Ser Pounce-a-lot, not that it made much of a difference when the second Warden Commander hated my cat far more than Justice disapproved.

“And how much do you disagree on now? When I deal with spirits they are always outside me, despite your continual disapproval,” she objected.

Taking a deep breath first, I allowed, “Not that much, but he still disapproves of distractions from seeking our goals.” Looking at her with a frown, I added, “You can't argue that I don't know the risks for you and how it can go terribly wrong, despite good intentions. I don't want other mages to screw up like I did, so that I have to be far more guarded than I was before.”

Sounding older than usual, Merrill replied, “You do not know Keeper lore.” Then she closed her eyes and admitted, “Still, we make errors too.”

Touching her arm, Hawke said, “We'll have time to speak later. We're wasting travel time, aren't we? I don't think we should stop at the Bone Pit now, scavenging supplies there isn't worth possibly facing another dragon. That mine must make a nice dragon nest or something, right?”

That must have been a reflexive joke, as it wasn't funny.

Hawke stood up and started collecting items the others had left behind. With a sigh, she said, “We can't take this all, can we?”

I had to shake my head, though Merrill softly said, “No.”

We could take it all, but it would be too much of a burden if we had to run. Better to thin it now.

Sorting through the goods didn't take that long, we kept food and useful tools, mostly discarding extra weapons Hawke had collected for everyone else. We still had a bit more than I liked but Merrill agreed they'd have some trade use later. In the latter stages, Hawke gave up and stopped paying attention to our talk, simply petting her mabari and looking back the way we'd come.

She didn't really seem to care, which was unlike her. I kept looking at her, sometimes more than at the items we were deciding on. Arranging the discarded items in a neat pile when we finished, she patted them with a sad look on her face before we left, saying little after we set out.

We did keep heading north and away from the coast, even if we weren't heading for the Bone Pit anymore. Traveling more easily today, at least physically, we made a better distance from the coast before sunset.

I found myself missing the occasional chatter with the others, even arguing with Fenris or Sebastian.

After we'd made camp and some stew was bubbling I wanted to talk to Hawke, but she began to work on her armor. Cleaning it, then she set about dying it a sooty black, using a fine brush. After a while, I noticed even Merrill was looking over at her, looking worried at Hawke's determined intensity on the task, well after we'd eaten.

When Merrill curled up to sleep so quickly and peacefully, I envied her. She still dreamed.

After another circle around the small camp, Paws settled along Merril, still watching me before he slept.

Aldera was still working on her leather armor with a strong blade, removing or changing the embellishments, until even I could see it looked different. Her movements were jerky and angry, and I wondered if I... no, we could weather this.

Perhaps it was overdue.

Maker, I had no idea what to do now. Justice was silent.

Chapter 8: Nightmares

Summary:

Now that they have parted ways with the people in their lives, deciding what to do becomes more important than simple flight. Truths and blood and Anders' secrets hit Hawke, bringing her closer to breaking.

-- The Free Marches - Vimmark Mountains

Aldera Hawke:

My mind kept going in circles as we moved away from Kirkwall. I usually had a list of things to work on at almost any time. Now it was only escape.

I better understood now, what Mother and Papa had to consider when they had to move and protect the five of us. Merrill knew how to travel without notice far better than I. Anders was used to keeping himself safe with his escapes.

What did I really know?

I knew how to kill, very quickly. And I was good at traps and locks. There weren't all that many traps here in the mountains. Or people to kill. Or, as least I hoped not. Tonight I could almost hear Aveline ask me, 'What now, Hawke?' They'd all asked at one time or another.

What was left? I had nothing left. I'd been refugee, daughter and sister, rogue, smuggler, leader, explorer, new-money noble, and Champion, mostly for the best reasons. All gone, now I was a fugitive for an ugly act I hated.

Desperately trying to keep busy and not think once we camped, I removed my armor and examined it. Changing the look of my armor without damaging its protection was important, and I had to finish it quickly. I needed it to gain new wear before we met anyone. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to change my Champion armor, in the off-chance I'd ever want to appear as myself again. Red and black were really too noticeable for a rogue. Even so, I felt like I was removing all traces of my life, leaving me adrift.

Once I'd propped the armor up to dry near the fire when I was done, I sat back, still feeling fidgety. It might be dry by morning, which I had to pray to the Maker would be enough. I'd have to think carefully about Anders' gear later, as I didn't think we could change his much. Merrill wasn't going as hunted as we were, she managed to seem unthreatening enough that people forgot her, even though she'd fought the Qunari leader too.

Looking up to the sky, there were few stars visible and I hoped we wouldn't get any sudden mountain downpours. Merrill had settled to rest a while before.

Anders was poking and poking and poking the fire with a long stick while I'd worked.

I didn't have any idea how to help him, to help them. I wanted so much to save him from himself. I couldn't rescue myself right now. I just didn't know what to do.

Bigpaws noticed I was done working and got up to come over to nose me for a scratch. I felt a little better.

“Hawke?” came from Anders a moment later.

I looked over, wondering what was coming. I had no idea.

We just looked at each other, his face almost colorless in the fire's light. He finally sadly raised a entreating hand towards me and an instant later I was in his arms. Someone's bones creaked from our embrace, but I didn't care.

Finally we settled beside each other by the fire with arms around each other.

With my head on his shoulder, he asked quietly, “What's wrong, my dear?”

I admitted, “I don't know. Everything, nothing... nothing you don't already know. I usually knew what I was doing, or like for the Arishok, there wasn't any time. Now, I really don't know. What do I do now?”

Anders said quietly, “I'm really not the one to ask, Hawke.” His eyes flashed with a brighter light than the fire could give. “You've already stuck your neck out for mages so much. And for me,” he said with some satisfaction while pulling me closer, “I wanted to keep you safely away from it.”

I could not resist getting pissed at this useless statement, and punched his shoulder, hard. Struggling to keep my voice down I protested, “That for your keeping me out of it! I knew too many of the powerful in Kirkwall personally by then... I couldn't be out of it!”

This made me mad enough to spit. All the years of the stupidity of him keeping me out of his mage resistance to protect me? That my help wasn't wanted and I wasn't good enough to help? That he didn't trust me after this many years? I must have said that, as Anders' face fell.

That wouldn't help him this time, I'd been miserable about this long enough and I poked him in the chest angrily, “They named me a Champion. I wanted to help the Circle mages, even Meredith knew that! What would I have done if Aveline asked for me to investigate the Chantry attack? You know me, I could not have stayed out of it when you left me ignorant. And we would have found out what happened, enough...” I choked back a sob, my throat so tight I couldn't speak for a moment.

Pulling in a deep breath, I wailed, “Enough to know their blood was on my hands too... Not just the asses, but the innocent too. So many innocent who died because she was your target!” I clawed at his robes, getting angrier that he wasn't saying anything in response.

We hadn't seen any bodies in Kirkwall, we'd had to flee, but my imagination painted all those who would be in Chantries, large and small.

Hitting his chest with my fists, I cried with each hit, “Sick people, the faithful, children, visitors, scholars, cooks...” I was crying so hard I couldn't see, for all the unseen, humble people, caught in this... murder, and I hit him harder as I listed more people he'd... no, we'd killed.

I couldn't stop, too many small bodies in wreckage like so many I'd been sick over through the years.

Dimly, I heard a voice shouting my name and realized someone was uselessly trying to restrain my wrists. Blinking, my eyes swimming with tears, I couldn't see who.

I could taste the coppery tang of blood.

My fists were wet with it and I realized that it was Merrill trying to stop me.

Wiping my eyes, he hadn't ducked all that much. Oh, Maker...

Now that she had my attention, Merrill dropped to her knees and bandaged him.  A coldness sank over my mind and I rolled away, afraid to be close. As she was carefully wiping up the blood, I pulled a rag and tried to scrub the blood off myself. He wasn't even conscious, and the rest of me wailed again in my head.

I went back to the far side of the fire and watched them, huddled in on myself and feeling wretched. I wanted to forgive him, but I was beginning to fear I couldn't completely. I could only be glad I didn't have a weapon handy.

I didn't want to continue this vengeance obsession that was almost a disease in Kirkwall. We'd escaped, hadn't we?

After a few more minutes I curled up behind the drying armor and faded into a restless sleep. There Anders died in that courtyard from my knifing him in a fountain of blood and expanding blue lightning. Another courtyard where Meredith gave me a matched pair of fancy, glowing daggers like hers as a reward for his execution. I used them to kill the rest of the Circle to the cheers of crowds. Sebastian and Fenris seemed pleased for a change and I ruled as the new Viscount. I made sure the streets were safer, killing any who made trouble, a river of blood in my wake now. It was peaceful, but I was dead inside as I surveyed another group of executions with no expression.

Sitting up, still in the dark of night, I only barely managed to not scream.

Strong arms pulled me close, and a voice reminded me, “Shh, shh. Those were only dreams, Aldera,” Anders stroked my hair until I could stop shaking.

“I killed you, it was so real... So much blood. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you,” I blubbered with a cheek against his chest before looking up at the outline of his head against the starlight. “Are you okay? There was so much blood, blood on my hands and blood from the bodies, spraying all over the courtyard.”

His voice soothing, Anders said with the tiniest bit of humor, “I'm fine. You didn't even break my nose, just bloodied it. Well, that and a sock to my jaw, but I've always said I was delicate.”

I reached up, maybe to feel if his nose was swollen or bent, but he honked as soon as I touched him, making me jump. Then he laughed, pulling me close after a kiss on my forehead.

Befuddled, I had to say, “I don't think I could have kept going if I'd killed you then... or now. It happened in my nightmare and it was only pain. Mages should be free. It's your methods...”

Breathing a deep sigh, Anders said, “Yes. It seemed so necessary and correct. It will work, it has to work. It has broken that alliance of Chantry and Templars in Kirkwall at least. But...” He put his head against mine and breathed quietly for a moment.

“I don't remember my dreams anymore,” he said in a sad voice, seeming to change the subject. “I used to walk freely in them. That is encouraged in young apprentices, as practice and study of the Fade. Especially for those they think have the talent to become spirit healers, despite the disapproval of the Templars. My Harrowing was quick, as I gained help of spirits against the demon.”

I couldn't see much at night, but maybe it was easier for us to talk now away from people. He rarely talked with me about his time before Kirkwall, except in the most general way. That's why his sniping at Nathaniel had been such a surprise.

“Did you become a spirit healer then? Did those spirits help with that too?” I had to ask.

“I was a spirit healer once, and a fine one, even by Circle standards if they didn't mind that I kept escaping,” Anders said with a slight smile in his voice, before adding, “No, they didn't help there, but I'd meet helpful spirits and could feel them about me while awake sometimes. While dreaming I almost always could feel them even if I didn't see them. In dreams, I never lacked the energy to do magic, even if there was rarely the need. Being in the Fade was more homelike for me than that tower for much of my life, especially the one lonely year where I spent so much of it in the Fade. There I might find spirits to speak with. I could just be, there where no Templars could follow me.”

“So your dreams were some kind of haven?” I asked carefully, feeling puzzled. “And they aren't anymore? Is that... why you aren't a spirit healer now?”

“I don't know,” he admitted, “I only knew one other spirit healer, and she didn't chafe under the Chantry rule as much, so she was allowed out more often. That was supposed to be a lesson for me, I suspect.” He sighed and pulled me closer, saying, “No, my dreams stopped when Justice joined me. I'm still connected to the Fade, perhaps more strongly than before but... all the old paths for my magic changed and I lost much of my skills beyond basic healing. Maybe she might know something to help me with splitting with Justice, but she was old years ago when I saw her last in Amaranthine with the Warden.”

“We could try to go there,” I offered, even if I had no idea how long it would take to sneak there.

Stroking my hair again, he admitted, “She was going to Orlais at the time, and had aged during her time fighting the Archdemon according to the Warden. Though, if anyone could refuse to die from sheer willpower it would be her.” he said with a smile.

I had to ask, “The Warden, the Warden, doesn't she have a name? Even in that book written by that Chantry scholar, she was only called that. It's like she's the only one there is.”

“It was nearly that after Ostager, you were there where most died,” Anders admitted. “You missed the bulk of the Blight, my dear. Lothering was only something like a sortie before the battles at Denerim and Amaranthine. The Warden wept much of the march after Amaranthine burnt.”

Poking his chest with a finger, I protested, “You're doing it too.”

With a pause, he said, “It's hard not to. It wasn't that far from the truth either, as there were only two Grey Wardens in all Ferelden left after Ostagar. She'd only had her Joining the day before that battle, and Alistair only months before her. Two novice wardens against the Darkspawn horde, and a bounty on their heads for the better part of a year.”

“Her name,” I insisted.

His snicker wasn't quite silent enough when he was holding me like this.

I wanted him to laugh more, but he could damned well answer the question. I was wary of hitting him, even as a joke now.

Finally he said with a smile in his voice, “Cousland, Attryne Cousland. Sister to the current Teyrn, even if her rank is officially gone after her Joining.”

She had everything and became a Hero, while I only became a fugitive for doing what I thought was right. My heart was in my throat. This was envy that cut so much deeper than just over Anders' past with her, and my next breath was ragged.

“Hawke!” Anders said with worry as he hugged me tightly, his voice a little faster and higher than normal. “She hated being called that, even when it was only a gesture of respect, she often winced. Much like being called 'Champion,' I think. I don't know if you'd get along or not if you met. We were such an odd group at the Vigil. She fought with dual swords usually, and damn strong too. I really was the delicate one in her wake.”

Sometimes I didn't get along that well with Isabela or Aveline, and I really didn't want to think about those implications. But then the affection in his voice sank in, and I had to wonder, “Did you sleep with her?”

Tracing my cheeks with his fingers Anders said with a smile I could hear, “You don't have to be jealous, my dear. She spent a lot of quieter times moping for the other Ferelden warden, Alistair. Not that I didn't suggest it once or twice.”

I took a deep breath and held it to stay quiet for a moment. That news hurt, as it was so much longer that I'd wanted Anders without any suggestions like that from him. He'd kept pushing me away for year after year, but had known her for only months. I'd been nearly convinced by his denials those years, even if I lacked the heart to pursue another if I was still pining for him. All I could manage was an, “Oh,” with a clenched jaw.

“No, my dear. It wasn't you. Justice had another host, a warden named Kristoff then,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “I flirted a lot back then. He accused me of not caring and being unfocussed.”

“Did he die, that Justice needed a new host?” I asked after I calmed a little. “Or did he get free somehow?”

“Err, well... Kristoff was already dead when Justice was pushed out of the Fade with us,” Anders said reluctantly.

I was getting more confused, not less, and probed, “So he was a kind of undead, like a corpse zombie?” Then the rest hit me, “You said 'us,' were you all mages, was Justice another mage trapped there like that kid elf?” Whose name I kept forgetting, if not his earnest face.

“No, he was a warrior spirit. I really don't know how it was done, there was a powerful, intelligent darkspawn named the First and a demon possessed Baroness involved in our being forced into the Fade where he existed. We were all sent through while awake and he was pushed back out with us later,” he said uncertainly. “No mages who knew more than I about the Fade even investigated while I was at the Vigil. Kristoff was already gone to the Maker when we found his body, we never met him while he was alive. Justice used his corpse and even grew attached to his memories and widow a bit.”

That certainly didn't sound like the spirit I knew of, on even a good day. “Do you have any of Kristoff's memories now?”

“I...” Anders paused, and then stopped. “I don't think so, but I met Aura when we returned and delivered news of her husband's death by the well, so...”

He paused a longer time, then stiffened and nearly whispered, “Maker!” as his eyes rolled back too far.

Chapter 9: In Absentia

Summary:

Contamination has been both ways, as memories can uncomfortably resurface before they can make plans for what to do next..

-- The Free Marches - Vimmark Mountains

Anders:

When I thought about Kristoff and his widow, I remembered how carefully the Warden delivered the news to her when we returned to the Vigil. I was tired of marching and wanted my bunk, or any bunk with a warm friend. We weren't even sure if we should have let Aura see Justice without his new helm. He'd seemed more... human after he spoke with her, whether he admired her for something he remembered her doing, or he felt some of Kristoff's affection.

Do you remember her and Kristoff anymore, Justice?

A flash of a younger Aura standing in an unfamiliar bedroom while Kristoff embraced her, Then came more visions of a different Joining than I remembered with a huge and imposing bearded man in bright armor, Kristoff's fighting darkspawn and dying in the Blackmarsh. Then another vision of Nathaniel, myself, and Attryne when we met Aura. A few more visions of fighting and Vigil's Keep, and then me with a smirk on my face and a remembered annoyance that was all too familiar to me now. Then such pain that it was like I'd put my head into molten lead.

I didn't quite pass out, I was only coherent enough to realize I was in shock. Nothing more, empty echoes instead of thought.

“Anders! Anders!” came from a voice touching sweet and safe places in me.

Her voice made me want to smile, but that was too much effort. Still my head turned towards Aldera Hawke.

“What?” I spoke.

I could hear that something in her voice, but Aldera Hawke was safe. Facing her now, I could see her well enough in the dim blue light.

“Anders, what was that?” Aldera Hawke asked, peering at my face.

I could listen to her voice for a long time.

“We remembered lost things,” I heard myself say, much as I had in the Fade my last time there. “And yes, he does remember some of Aura now.”

“Justice?” Aldera Hawke asked.

We nodded.

“I see that we have a visitor this night,” Merrill said, re-igniting the fire pit. “Should I make him some tea? Do spirits like honey in their tea?”

Nothing in that required our response, so we only continued to look at Aldera Hawke as I wanted. I was allowed to make a smile.

“He was talking about his time with the Grey Wardens and when he and Justice were separate,” Aldera Hawke said while peering at us.

Merrill looked more interested, saying, “The spirit was present but separate and outside his Fade for extended periods? Others could see him, Hawke?”

“We didn't talk that long, but I think there was another host, and the others in their group knew Justice then,” Aldera Hawke reported as we rested.

“I wonder what it is that caused this spirit remain here?” Merrill said carefully.

“I was trapped outside the Fade by the so-called Baroness. I could do other than inspire trapped people in the Fade, and directly fight Darkspawn and injustice,” we said.

Something he said caught my attention, but the thought flitted away before I could do more than frown. I shook my head, and tried to focus.

“Spirits do hunger for the mortal world too,” Merrill said smugly.

“It was not my intent to come here or to remain,” came from my lips. “I could inspire more there in dreams than here. Trapped here without the ability to act would be... bad.”

“But how do you know this, spirit?” Merrill asked firmly, while Aldera Hawke smirked briefly.

“I could not return when I left Kristoff. I would have been impotent unless there was one more aware present, whether spirit healer or warrior,” we answered cautiously.

Aldera Hawke asked, “What does bad mean then?”

Then I felt something new from Justice: fear, or almost that.

“Bad would be madness, to see injustice around me and be unable to affect it. Howling anger without end, to be able to do nothing. There'd be nothing of justice in that. I would become what I fight,” Justice said flatly.

Finally my voice was my own again, “That is very bad.”

“That might well explain why they hunted you more than Hawke's family, even if it was unwise not to warn you if that was true,” Merrill said thoughtfully.

Right then pulling Hawke closer to me was more important.

She leaned back and brushed my cheek, “Are you all right?”

Looking into her eyes revealed less, as the light around us was only from the campfire again. Still I concentrated on her as I admitted, “Yes, the memories were the problem, causing pain. But I do remember a few images of Kristoff's life now, too.”

Merrill asked sharply, “Do you remember it as it was your own memory?”

I shook my head, “No, this was not much more real than any Fade dream, despite the pain. Some things were from when he was fighting alongside the rest of us around Amaranthine.”

“So these were more like Fade memories,” Merrill said thoughtfully.

Not that sure, I added, “I don't remember dreams, though I may still dream. Sometimes I feel as drained as after a nightmare, but I still don't remember anything at all. It's worse in the Deep Roads.”

“Seeing as how you Circle mages bind and form the spirits when they leave the Fade into benevolent or dark, your binding must be the problem,” Merrill said smugly.

Feeling myself snarl, I immediately objected, “I am not a Circle mage!”

“Don't be naive, of course you are. While your teaching has odd gaps and no depth beyond bans for subjects they don't approve of, you do have a wider knowledge than most who are not Keepers,” Merrill chided. “And you can be sure a few of my people escaped the Circle over the centuries and passed some Circle theory on to us.”

I started to sputter more protests, but Hawke patted my arm and said, “You may hate their politics and appeasement, but you agree on using magic as a tool and not power as an end in itself. Not like what we've heard about Tevinter where it was for power and cruelty, I guess Fenris never noticed that difference. You want to make things better, even if you sharply disagree on how mages should live.”

Frowning, I wanted to say I was proud of being an apostate.

Merrill piped up with a question, “How many mages have been your teachers? I have really had only two. And if I learned a great depth from their teachings, they could not always teach what I needed to learn. Most who are not Keeper trained are like that, with few teachers and little choice of what to study. Or they must discover everything on their own, with difficulty.”

Begrudgingly I admitted, “I had more than a half dozen who were influential.”

The dawn was brightening the horizon even as Merrill said cheerfully, “I'm sure you had a wealth of knowledge there. I can't imagine an entire room of books on magic.”

I still suspected there may be a reference somewhere, in restricted or hidden shelves that might help us, as even Ferelden's tower at Kinloch Hold had rooms and rooms worth of tomes. Someone had to have joined with a spirit before and not become a slavering killer.

“What I'm wondering about is that Justice wasn't angry just now,” Hawke mused. “He's usually more... violent when he's present, isn't he?”

“It has been so few times that he manifests like that when violence isn't immanent...” I said with a shrug, remembering how he had appeared when Hawke and Bethany first found me. “I try to keep him contained. He's too violent, like when we almost killed the girl...”

A hum came from Merrill and I had to stop and flush.

Looking worried, Hawke asked, “That was twice since we left Kirkwall that he's been present, right? Why the change? Because of what happened at the... Chantry? The distance from that black place or just distance from the Chantry?”

“Or maybe that his control is lesser now, or the spirit's is greater?” Merril wondered, to my dismay.

“Justice is always present, always judging everyone, including me,” I had to say, feeling frustrated.

Saying a soft, “Oh,” Hawke flushed and then paled, her shoulders dropping.

Reaching for her, I ran my thumb back along her jaw and then my fingers into her hair, “No, my dearest Hawke. So many comments are for what I do, he rarely has anything to say about you anymore, not that I would listen.”

Turning her face to me, she leaned closer for a quick kiss that wasn't that quick at all.

“Perhaps you should save that for after our travel for the day,” Merrill said with a tiny smile.

Hawke pulled back, and looked like she'd made a decision, “We need to get further from both Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Some place where the Chantry and Templars have already lost strength. And Maker help us, where there are enough Darkspawn or Blight damage lingering to keep priorities off a single apostate. Tevinter might have more knowledge, but I eliminated too many slavers to be very welcome there.” She looked nauseous and added, “I think I'd go berserk if I had to deal with slaves and slave owners. Fenris said enough to make me very sure of that.”

“I cannot hide away from the war I started,” I told them without intention. Not that I disagreed, there would be much fighting, I hoped, so that more could be free, and not just a few like me.

“There will be no shortage of places that will need help,” Hawke said grimly. “We need time and distance for them to lose focus on finding us. And whether you like it or not, we need to see if enough other mages and non-mages will stand up too. We can't do it alone. Andraste was not enough to end the Imperium, only weaken it. If they won't... I don't know what it will take.”

Justice was silent, but not pleased.

We packed up our camp and set out again, deciding to head west towards the Planasene Forest and Nevarre. Seeking lower elevations, travel was a little easier as the day passed. Merrill and the mabari hunted or gathered food along the way, a necessity I regretted as I was eating more than half of the food we used each day.

After another of Merrill's oddly flavored dinners, we settled by a small campfire. Hawke had been quiet most of the day, not exactly brooding but quiet.

She did some type of practice exercise moving on and around a tree at dusk. With some plainer daggers than her usual, of even a few days ago. Merrill watched too, though the dog tried to set his huge head on my knee. I didn't need dog drool that badly.

Actually, I didn't need any dog drool at all, no matter how silky the fur by his ears was.

Sweating and panting when she stopped at full dark, Hawke dropped down to the ground next to me with a frown visible in the dim light of my staff.

Touching her arm, I asked, “Let me help?”

She had only a half-smile when she said, “You're the problem right now.”

I knew it was irrational with all we'd been through, but still I had a pang of worry.

Reaching to grasp my hand on her arm, she said, “It sucks, but we're going to have to change your appearance at least for a while. And after all that effort to upgrade your armor, too.”

Oh, Maker. I'd spend so long collecting the feathers for my pauldrons, something uniquely mine that I'd always have with me. I'd even fancied each feather was for one mage I'd helped escape the Templars, and the color for the ones I couldn't... a permanent reminder.

I didn't need light to see how different Hawke's armor looked already. Merrill had somehow been completely unnoticed outside the Alienage as a mage.

“I never kept any spare robes like that,” I had to admit. I'd sold or thrown away my furred clothing when I decided irrevocably that I had to act. I had been surprised how much easier it had been to be unnoticed when alone in the darker fabrics, something neither Varric nor Isabel had done much. Hawke favored darker clothing before she'd gotten the Champion armor.

“I wish now that I could have bought you something else, as you need as much protection as we can scrounge,” Hawke said ruefully.

“What do we have?” I asked, still wondering what we could do.

Merrill mused, “I suppose we could make a new coat for you as a start, from whatever materials we have. Maybe some dyes for that, or even to change your hair color?”

“Uh,” Hawke croaked, sounding very bad. “I have an idea to disguise us, at least.”

Taking a deeper breath, she said more normally, “We do need to change our hair and the colors of your robes, Anders. I packed a set of robes I found a while back, with some protective magic. One that I kept in case I ever needed a disguise, a disguise where little speech is expected for one of the two...”

Aldera looked me straight in the eye to say, “The robes of a Chanter, who'd be accompanied by their guard-speaker while on pilgrimage.”

Chapter 10: Undisguisable

Summary:

Staying free will require being less noticeable, so comes disguises and honesty offered in earnest.

-- The Free Marches - Vimmark Mountains

Hawke:

Maker, I'd kind of hoped for more time before broaching this idea to Anders, but this was the time if it ever could be. Both of the mages turned towards me, even if the nuances in their expressions weren't visible in the darkness.

Telling Anders my plan was hard. As worried as I was about telling him, it was an unexpected ploy, something Sebastian or Cullen would never think he could do. They knew us best of all the people wanting our hides. At least I hoped so, I refused to worry that Bethany or Aveline could be made to talk.

After I'd told him, the way Anders stiffened scared me so much my throat hurt. I didn't really know which part of him hated it the most, the merciless Templar killer, the tireless one who fought for all mages' freedom, or the kind man imprisoned far too often in a tower. I realized I was watching for the light that came before Justice's wrath exploded with a little fear.

A tiny, little sound came from my throat, and I realized I'd never been afraid of Justice before, but now I wasn't as sure of anything. I hoped he hadn't heard me, because I couldn't know if the spirit would use any hesitation against me.

It still was a good idea, their records of minor sisters and brothers would have to be lost and incomplete now, like in Ferelden years ago. I almost hated my practical side that that horror might help us like with our needs, and I put my arms around myself, digging my fingernails in to keep me still.

“Hence those books you brought along,” Anders said in a dry voice, empty of feeling.

I was still waiting for his spirit to appear, and muttered an agreement. Merrill hummed, but didn't seem to have an opinion.

His anger was no surprise, though only his eyes shifted blue briefly when he demanded with gritted teeth to start, “And do you expect me to wear those robes? To even pretend they own me, that they're right? To speak their words that mages should be feared and hounded? That families like yours should be destroyed? That they call the Maker's gift a curse? That Templars do the Maker's work? Are you insane?”

I wanted to close my eyes and weep at his charges but I answered, “Not unless both of you thought you could. But it would be hard if I was the chanter, as you'd have to do part of the talking for me too and sound like you meant it. Chanters or sisters sometimes sound like nutters, or just be quiet.” I had to swallow and admit, “I guess you can't. I just wanted some disguise that filled our other needs, one that would never be suspected by Sebastian or the Knight-Captain.”

“No, I'd far rather burn them all to ash,” he growled. “With their false assurances of protection and benevolence, mages have no safety under Chantry rule.”

Justice had not truly manifested, still I had no doubt that the plan was dead. That pilgrim disguise really had been what I considered my best idea for the two of us as fugitives, as the Chanters almost always had someone with them to interpret and no one thought anything of a chanter being quiet or saying things that were out of context. He probably knew more of the Chant than me already. Pilgrims often traveled the sparser lands, all we'd need is a plausible quest like some holy sword or tome. It really was the best disguise I could think of outside his suddenly learning to change form.

I realized I was rocking, and made myself stop.

“Hawke?” Merrill asked quietly, touching my shoulder.

Looking up from my knees, I forced a smile for my friend. “Yeah, what?” When she just looked at me, I had to say, “That's it, that was the best idea I've had so far. Combining a reason to travel and with being unfamiliar with the area and lack of caravan. One of us could be mostly silent, a complete change in looks. No one who knows us would expect it of Anders, and the robe has some magical protection that he'd need. Finding a miracle wouldn't be bad either if there were any. So many people have seen us over the years... all I wanted was a few months to see if we can find someone who might have some way to calm Justice. We need a few months for a time to heal a little.”

An arm slid around my shoulders, heavy and warm. Anders' eyes were brown and sad, “Only if you were on the run with someone else, my dear.”

“It was a rogue solution,” I agreed. Leaning against him as I sat, I said to them both, “I don't really mind Justice that much, only what he does to you, it isn't fair. There are so many who don't ever get justice, not just the mages. The victims shouldn't have to wait until they meet the Maker for someone to care what happens to them.”

-- x --

-- Anders:

There was no way I... no, we could follow her plan, to even pretend that they owned me or were correct. Maybe if she'd fled with someone more sane than me. Maybe like what I'd been in Amaranthine, joking with the others when I wasn't killing smugglers or darkspawn, then it would have been a lark, fooling the Templars. I was safe enough there under the Warden's wing from asses like Ser Rylock.

In Ferelden the Circle and Templars had been so weakened by the Blight's destruction. Their priorities had shifted a bit more to service and pragmatism at least for a while. It was almost too bad the other lands had not been affected by the Blight, that they could even deny now how close it had been. They still had too much luxury to rant on the evils of magic instead of the danger of darkspawn, real threats. The Warden Commander and her second used some quote about how the Blight brought people together a lot, but they were right.

But when Hawke rambled about the other people who deserved justice, I felt a rumble from the spirit. I wanted to smile into her hair, she was a little crazy too, without even a spirit goading her.

Then I felt a surge of rage I didn't expect just then, my skin itching with Fade energy. Itching and then overflowing. My muscles spasmed and then cramped as I wanted to keep control of my own body, only holding on to Dera so I didn't move. There were no enemies here I kept telling him, but images of Hawke killed like I'd nearly killed Ella filled my brain.

No! Not that!

Not even howling at Justice this time, we fought for control for an eternity as mana built into a storm of energy I refused to use, refused to move, locking every muscle, refused to even focus beyond holding it inside me.

I couldn't see and was getting dizzy, when something shifted and the spirit yielded finally. All I could do was pant and then take deep breaths as my vision returned and my heart raced. I felt lighter when I realized Hawke was still leaning against me, not trying to break free of me.

Thanking the Maker, I allowed myself a chaste kiss on her cheek before I sat back so we were again barely touching.

“Anders?” she asked me quietly.

I didn't want to tell her, I really, really didn't want to tell her what just happened. I didn't think I could stand it if she feared me. So I looked at the ground. It had felt like we'd healed, just a little since leaving Kirkwall. That Justice was calmer now after what we'd done there.

But I wanted to give her that promise of truth she hadn't demanded, to get it right this time.

Mumbling, I forced myself to say, “He tried to take control and he was infuriated...” Taking another breath, I added, “You, not Merrill.”

Hawke cupping my cheek, surprising me almost as much as her saying, “Thank you.”

Looking up at her after nuzzling into her touch, I saw she had a weak smile on her face. I had to smile too and take a breath in relief, though I wanted to hold her tight and was afraid to now. I tried to remember what we'd been talking about before. Oh, disguises and pilgrims.

“I don't think that would work with Merrill or Paws along, either,” I suggested. “Maybe you can use that to scout before we enter a city or something like arranging for passage?”

Hawke shook her head. “I'm not sure we'll have enough to book passage, depending on bribes we'll need. I sold some things to that collector in the sewers but hoped to sell others who demand functional more than odd. Some of them we left behind.”

“Running, or at least outmarching armored asses works. I usually traded passage with my healing skills, even if I used little or no magic,” I could say. “Sailors routinely have many injuries, aside from pirate attacks. That should help.”

“The problem will be to find a ship that won't just drop us overboard after taking our money,” Hawke said, looking grim. “We had so much trouble leaving Ferelden.”

“It might be quite funny if some of those in Kirkwall are now refugees themselves,” I could say with a small smile. “They looked down on Fereldans often enough.”

Looking off towards the west, Hawke said, “I guess we'll have to make for Cumberland, and decide there if we can find some smuggler's ship. I don't want to try to pass through Orlais itself. The Chantry is stronger there, and that Sister Nightingale knows our faces. She had to be from Orlais, and she won't be throwing us a feast if she finds us.”

I was just glad Hawke sounded more normal again.

Turning to the north briefly. Merrill spoke a sad phrase towards Sundermount, “ El aravelen him nehnir dar'melana abelas halamen.”

Hawke hugged her, I thought to both of their surprises, with Hawke saying, “I wish your clan still believed in you.”

“I still listen to the winds and speak to the birds as Marethari taught me. The clan I was First to has no Keeper and no halla now. Are they even Elvhen anymore? Holding to their pride on that mountain, they have less of a future than those in the cities who still hold to their vhenadahl, to their hahren, and to each other,” she said sadly. “I cannot make them trust me, anymore than a human like Bethany can make Templars trust her.”

I was about to challenge her choices, but Hawke gave me a quick glare before asking the elf, “What usually happens to clans without a Keeper?”

“I do not know what will happen, as usually there is a First and perhaps another elder in case of disaster. Meeting another clan might help as well, but they would have to travel alone without the guidance of their halla or Keeper.” She paused to look at Hawke, almost pleading.

Bigpaws nosed Merrill, who said to the hound sadly, “Yes, they could trust wise souls like you, but they would confuse you with the Dread Wolf.”

Leap or die, we weren't the only ones facing it.

Merrill spoke again while petting the mabari. “The Keeper had not prepared them for even the possibility of such great change. I am not a change they can accept, but denying the Dread Wolf does not keep him away. Asha'bellanar did not warn them of change, but it came anyway on little mouse feet. I fear for them. Perhaps it would have been more kind if you hadn't taken the blame, Hawke, I would not have them stay on that mountain where they can only dwindle.”

“Maybe we can look for another clan. Do you know where we might find one?” Dera asked carefully.

Shaking her head, Merrill admitted, “I only knew places where two of the clans might roam, all else is fog now.”

“We can look,” I agreed. “We have no real destination now, only away for a time.”

Cocking her head with a smile, Hawke asked, “The Dales then? At least for a stop, as I don't think we know anyone who might be there and we'll just be hated shemlen for a while, a bit milder than the usual dislike we've gathered.”

I didn't feel any objection from Justice, even if I wasn't sure he'd gotten free yet. When we set out pallets for sleep, I wasn't sure what to say to Hawke yet tonight.

Distracting myself, I re-wrapped and sorted the bandaging cloth we'd cut up. A few fabrics I recognized now from color or texture. One had been one of Dera's few dresses for some special occasion, and I remembered how my calloused fingers caught on the soft fabric then. Those strips I set aside, not that I had any idea what to do with them.

After I fussed with the bandages for a time, Dera said softly, “Anders.”

I looked up, and saw Merrill must have stepped away. Paws wasn't nearly as polite, and had his head on Dera's foot, watching me suspiciously.

“Come on, Anders,” she said with a tired smile. “We need to sleep.”

“But he could...” I started. “I don't know what got up his ass this time. I'm afraid to sleep, I'd rather stay awake and keep you close.”

Taking my hand to pull me closer, Hawke whispered, “Who isn't worried? But I cannot go back to those years after the Deep Roads. One step at a time, until we find answers we can live with for you and the other mages.”

Moving closer for a kiss, I felt the faintest of rumbles from Justice, and I was so relieved they weren't enraged rumbles. Soon we curled up together with her breath warming my skin, and I thanked the Maker for another day.

Notes:

Thanks to BronxWench for her translation.

Chapter 11: Dyeing for the Future

Summary:

Anders must say farewell to his last vanities of his earlier life: hair and feathers. Too many hunt for the most wanted mage in Thedas, and taking passage quietly in a smaller port will muddy the trail.

-- The Free Marches - Planasene Forest

Hawke:

The next morning seemed subtly cleaner because we had a definite goal now. Despite that, I carefully checked my bruises as I washed up in the morning when I was alone. Those few minutes had been frightening as Anders hadn't reacted to anything I'd said. I'd thought his spirit was calmer being away from Kirkwall, as those other recent manifestations had been better.

But Anders' embrace had become very painful for a moment, before lessening to just being tight without any other change. If it hadn't been for the Fade energy I could feel around him, that was almost like being too close to lightning spells, I could have thought nothing was wrong.

Only when I could feel him gasping for air, did I realize Anders hadn't been breathing for some time. Then I was horrified, wanting to do something, anything to help.

Anders looked so scared himself and his explanation didn't say much, so I didn't push. He tried, and surely had not wanted me to know what had happened.

My bruises were nothing after so many battles, as I'd gotten worse from tripping when doing something dumb. His eyes looked hollow, and I worried. I held him tightly as he finally fell asleep, while I listened to the noises of the night.

Anders was a little remote as we set out in the morning, though he seemed more normal when I tried a few lame jokes. Travel was quiet for the next several days, as we descended towards the Planasene.

We traveled only a few miles a day, as I hoped the search for us would keep spreading further the longer we were missing. If we could remain missing for even a few months, there'd be too many places we could be. Searchers would be tracking old leads that would be so out of date as to be useless.

I was more worried about Sebastian than the Templars or Chantry, especially if he ever got his head out of his arse and stopped thinking in terms of conquering my city. I really wished I could see his face when that happened, as we'd talked so many times about not wanting that kind of power. Did he really think I was lying that long?

We didn't hurry, so we could find some food and stretch our supplies. I helped with hunting with my bow, or fishing a little. I wasn't as good as the prince, but we had meat every day or so. Paws got more on his own, but he ate most of his. Merrill knew other edible things, and I got used to the different flavors. She even found a grove that had enough shells from last season left for our next task.

A task that Anders was very reluctant to do, getting more and more fidgety as the water and crushed shells cooled late in the afternoon.

Running his fingers through his hair, he asked with a bit of a whine, “Why do I have to change my hair color? Lots of men have lighter hair color, and to cut it shorter too?”

Merrill restrained a smile and busied herself with sorting more shells for later dying. Paws wagged a stubby tail, and was doing his version of grinning at me.

Sighing, I had to ask, “What else are you willing to do to change your appearance? Losing depth perception, faking limb loss, wearing heavy armor?

“You've already made me stop wearing my pauldrons. I spent a lot of time collecting those feathers,” Anders said wistfully.

Putting the pot down, I stepped over and put an arm around him. “We're not getting rid of them. Maybe we can wear our armor again someday, but not now.”

“I...” he started and then looked a little distracted. Perhaps he and his spirit were having a disagreement by the expressions that flickered on his face. Sadder when they were done, he admitted while looking down at the ground, “I had to lose all my little vanities with Justice: clothing, jewelry, frivolous magic, and even the flirting that got me out of trouble more times than it got me in. My hair was the only thing I managed to keep through the years. That was what I wouldn't let anyone change, that I could look in a mirror and be almost sure I was still there...”

Anders looked younger than me for once, and I threw my arms around his neck. He hugged me fiercely as well.

His voice got threadier as he said into my hair, “Who am I now? All I started out wanting was to travel freely like other wardens could, and to heal more than an occasional apprentice's accident. What have I done?”

I was supporting virtually all his weight now as his knees wobbled and then buckled, and I let us sink to our knees. I just held him tight as he shook. The worst of my grief had passed, at least a little, but he hadn't thought he'd survive this long. I couldn't answer his questions, and just crooned as I rubbed his back.

After silence for a while, his embrace was less about his despair and more about holding me. I wondered how often he might have had this growing up. He never implied anything nice about his parents, and I doubted he would have gotten comforted when first dragged back to Circle Tower after one of his escapes. He had to have been very lonely long before he was in isolation. I'm sure he envied me that I had a sister and that Bethany had Mother's approval.

Still I rubbed his back slowly, and I eventually pulled back just enough to look him in the face and say, “Anders.”

Looking desperately unhappy he asked quietly, “What?”

Tracing his dampened face, I could say with a tiny smile, “I'm answering your question. You're Anders, a wonderful mage who should look before he leaps a bit more often. I wonder if Flemeth's words were more for you, even if she was looking at me. I don't think I'm flying.”

“You leaped after me, we'll fly away together,” he said with a small smile and his eyes moist. Then he crushed me against himself, saying in a bare whisper, “You kept me from falling into the mindless violence that became too easy after Karl's death. It happened once in Ferelden, and that once might barely be called defending myself. Those maps were the best thing I ever filched, as you found me because of them.” A brief pause and his mood shifted again, “And if I do become something mindless, give me one last gift of mercy.”

Choking at the thought, at first I could only nod. “I'll... try, I promise,” I managed to get out after a hard swallow.

Holding him for a long moment, the solid warmth of his body soon reminded me that we weren't in that dark a place yet, and I asked, “Can we dye your hair now? You're still my Anders, even if we can't get dye for this.”

His chuckle sounded a little surprised, “Stubborn lady. I suppose a nice brown would not be a terrible thing. I'm rather fond of it,” Anders said while running his fingers through my plain brown hair.

Leaning back on my heels with a sappy smile after a bit, I called Paws and asked him to bring Merrill back so we could start.

It took several more evenings using the dye after slow travel days, before we decided Anders' hair and brows were dark enough. I began looking for something suited to making some beads. He liked that idea much better than cutting it all really short.

Merrill thought our hair color being similar now made us cute and went on and on about it as we collected more of the intact nuts to pack with our food. She hadn't lost her knack at annoying him, though I hid a smile.

It took me visiting the first village we found for me to buy enough leather to make something that resembled leather armor for him, though it wasn't as protective as his coat. My armor was battered enough as were my weapons that I could pass as a lone archer mercenary looking for work. I'd tied some rags over my bow and scuffed it. My daggers were hidden now, and I tried to walk into the village with that odd archer strut that both Varric and Sebastian had. Both Anders and Merrill laughed at my disguise before I left them, but I hoped others would have less reason to guess who I was.

I asked about possible work in the area, carefully counting out the few silver I brought with me for the leather. In sparse whining comments as I spoke with different people, I claimed to be coming from the ports of Cumberland and Gwaren where some idiot of a bann wanted to retake Ostagar, and I was too afraid of darkspawn taint to get promotions from my last Captain. I'd fought enough darkspawn to make those fears credible. I wanted to be a mercenary fresh from Ferelden, and down on her luck.

Their news was scant, as only a few traders visited this place. With thanks for the work tips, I left, supposedly for Kirkwall.

Circling back to my friends, we moved further into the forest and away from the narrow road to finish our work for another day.

“How do I look?” Anders asked us, sounding worried.

“Hmm, I don't know...” I had to say, holding out the pause while moving to a different viewing point, trying to look grim.

Merrill was worried as she'd done most of the planning and cutting. We'd all done some of the stitching, though I was the worst. I slipped her a wink as soon as I was out of his sight.

Anders reached up to rub his ear, where one of the handful or so of tiny braids with scuffed beads kept hitting when he moved his head. He'd suffered through some changes we made in the armor when we realized it was starting to look too elven. This version looked fine, very fine... even if too clean and unmarred by dirt and stains. It was very nice to see more of him without his coat, very nice.

“Well, spit it out,” Anders said, turning to glare at me. “I miss my robes already.”

“Really? You wore those long robes like all the other Circle mages?” Merrill looked surprised. “Why are you missing them now and not last month or last year? Did you have trouble running in those long robes? You humans are not very graceful, well most of you at least.”

Pinching the leather and fabric of the shoulder pads and looking irritated, Anders muttered, “Yes. I ran well enough in them. I had very nice robes in Amaranthine, but this... thing has no enchantments.”

I saw Merrill looked a little hurt at that, so I stepped closer, sliding an arm around him, saying, “Merrill worked hard on this, we all did, so be nice, Anders. And you look good in it. A little too clean and new, but that we can work on that, I hear some muddy water and rocks calling for our help.”

His dawning smirk turned to dismay, I'd never quite realized before this trip, but he really didn't like getting muddy and mucky. Water was okay, but no mud pies as a child I guess. Then there wasn't a whole lot of free-standing mud around Kirkwall. Plants were stunted and sparse from the rocks everywhere, not making for much honest mud and soil, just greyish brown dirt everywhere.

Shaking her head, Merrill finished packing up the last parts of our camp. We needed news along with some more supplies, as Merrill shouldn't have to do so much to keep us fed. I wasn't hungry that often, but I worried about Anders. I could feel his stomach rumbling at night, though he denied it.

We continued west and slightly south once we reached the Planasene. I thought Merrill was looking for some kind of sign of another Dalish clan, but I didn't see any. We did see a lot of wet when we left the higher lands, it seemed like we'd gotten rained on every day for a week. At dusk we'd put up the only tarp we had on the driest place we could. We used a fire to eat and dry off.

Merrill was more cheerful away from Kirkwall, though I still didn't understand why she consulted me on so many things. I knew the least, I'd always lived in or near settlements, always had something like a home to return to.

Anders was getting used to wearing the light leather armor, and his armor was gaining stains and scuffs. He even tried a few spells, but every spell was less effective than it usually was.

The second rainy night, the storm had passed and Paws had settled down. Anders and I had settled close to whisper together while Merrill slept, even if we didn't go much further. I wasn't sure if it was due to the lack of privacy or his worry that he'd lose control.

“I hate this much mud,” Anders grumbled so I could barely hear. A large droplet of water blew in enough to land on his skin, and he shuddered in annoyance, trying to glare at the tarp. He dug out a cloth and wiped himself, muttering.

Pulling him closer, I kissed where the offending water had landed, and reminded him, “I don't think we can put it much lower and still be able to move around.”

“Merrill should have her own tent,” he whispered into my ear, nibbling on it. “She can take the dog with her.”

A small chuckle, as I said, “Then we'd need watches, which would defeat your plans for the privacy. And Paws likes you more than her anyway.”

He snorted, not as quietly, and said, “Mabaris, what is it with those dogs? Someone even tried to smuggle one into the Circle tower once, but Irving didn't like that and had it sent away.”

Not that surprised, but I was angry for them. “Couldn't you have any pets?”

“No,” he admitted. “A mabari could rip a throat out when it matured, so that isn't a surprise. They used even fish like a club, so they often died from 'accidents' that were announced to have been done by nasty students lashing out at the rest of us. The sudden death of pets was the first thing that taught you to give them no handle on you.”

“What about that cat?” I wondered.

His smile could be heard in his voice when he told me, “He wasn't a pet, he was one of the mousers. He had free reign as long as he brought them vermin. Though I think some of the vermin were pets too. They were too smart to be caught by the Templars though.”

Sighing, I admitted, “Aveline thought we should get a mabari pup since Paws could help with training it...”

“Another dog?” he objected. “There'll be no room in our bed for us.”

“We don't have a bed, and there's plenty of ground.”

Anders grazed my cheek with a kiss and said, “Your puppy eyes don't work as well in the dark.”

I could smile and say, “I wouldn't try any puppy eyes if you can't see them. I think Aveline wants one too. And Paws didn't bother you in bed after a while, so stop complaining about it already.”

“Should I conjure a light to verify that those jaws that could snap through a Hurlock's skull are on your foot and he's watching me?” he said dryly.

“Um, don't bother. To be fair, unless we want muddy mabari waking us, he has to be well under the tarp too,” I said with my face warming.

I could feel Paws raise his head enough to yawn at Anders.

Anders shifted us so I could put my head on his shoulder, and he said tentatively, “Can you tell me more about your idea? I can see the benefit, I just don't think I could do it. At least not now. I could not wear their robes, no matter how protective they were.”

“Would you be willing to try the assistant?” I whispered, still uneasy. “I'm not so hot at memorizing text exactly like that. Most of my skills are dodging and jiggling.”

There was a dead silence, and I looked at him, worried that he'd start leaking blue. I could feel a few stray droplets blow under the tarp.

Anders' shoulder began to shake under my head. Then he snorted and began to laugh.

Thinking back, I finally realized what I'd said and I had to smile. I wished that had been deliberate, but I'd take what I could get.

Merrill murmured something in her sleep, and Anders started snickering more quietly. I was grinning, and let him.

“Maker, I needed that,” Anders said, pulling me close for a kiss. “Tell me, and I'll help you memorize. I'll try it if we have no other options.”

“We'd need clothing, a story, and names. If Sister Nightingale is an example, we can get away with something that means something to us...” I said carefully.

I didn't have that many more ideas, but we could think about these things for a while. At some point Merrill would have her own goals to pursue and would go on.

After maybe three weeks of slow travel, I caught the scent of salt air, and insisted on seeing the sea. I looked out over the water, and saw a ship in the distance, sailing west. Anders had stayed back in the trees, but I wasn't sure how much of his paranoia was justified now.

I was getting tired of waiting and asked Merrill, “How much of the this forest have we crossed?”

“Perhaps half, Hawke,” she said bleakly, scanning the horizon. She hadn't met my eyes since we stopped.

“Merrill, what's wrong?” I prodded

Compressing her lips, she admitted, “We have not hurried over a straight path, and yet I have seen little sign that my people have been here in years. This is a rich land. I had hoped perhaps another clan might have been brought here. I have seen no recent sign, perhaps none have come here...”

Her voice was thready, and she stopped there.

“Or? Or they avoid you?” Anders asked, his voice just missing criticism.

“Some hunters are far better than I at being unseen,” Merrill agreed quickly.

“We'll find something,” I told Merrill, “but I think we should get moving again.”

They only nodded, and we started a march along the coast watching for a village or smuggler's port. We stayed within the treeline, making camps well out of any ship's watch.

A two days later we spotted a village. It seemed to have some docks hidden by rocks from ships further out, if nothing was in port. There were enough buildings that they should have a tavern, or even a merchant or two. But without a wall or large building, they shouldn't have much of a Chantry.

I asked, “Are we ready to meet with strangers again?”

Chapter 12: Hospitality

Summary:

Their first foray out of the forest brings the fugitives to a small smugglers' port for supplies and news. A port with a Chantry...

-- The Free Marches - Planasene Forest

Anders:

I wasn't sure we could be safe in settled areas anymore, While we could kill so many in a major combat, I never wanted to kill innocents just because they might hate me. Too many hated and feared mages for me to do that.

As we moved west through the forest, we stopped often to gather useful herbs. I knew the plants for the common potions, like elfroot and spindleweed, but we'd found other herbs too. Elfroot we collected plenty of, but we didn't have much of others we needed. The Deep Roads had plenty of deep mushrooms to make potions for Hawke, but finding enough was a problem now. With all we'd collected, my pack was a little bulkier than when we left Kirkwall.

When we saw another village along the coast, Hawke asked what we thought, if we, or less kindly, if Justice and I were able to stay calm. I still worried when we settled to sleep, even if he was quiet since then.

We started to study the Threnodies most nights so she'd have them memorized in due time. I'd enjoyed having her close and sitting on my lap without the tension that marked our relations the last few nights. My staff was propped so we could both read the tome. The language inside was still beautiful, even if there was more to the Chantry than just the Chant.

Actually, having to help her study was helping me a little, as I thought my spirit wasn't getting angry quite as easily or quickly when we reached a verse that was often used against us. But he could see that many were taken out of context as well.

So when I looked at the fishing village, complete with drying racks lining up the one slope, I felt nervous and stepped closer to Hawke to say, “We may be ready for that, I know I could use more items for potions and salves.”

“Merrill, are you ready?” Hawke asked carefully.

“Yes, of course I am. I doubt I would find much more here unless I took root,” the elf admitted.

Hawke and I had chosen new names that we practiced using, though we wanted to avoid over-using them. She'd be Brana, I'd picked Hesyal, and Merrill enjoyed catching us if we used the wrong names. Merrill's name was usually forgotten by humans, so we decided she didn't have to change her name. We walked toward the village, with Hawke and Merrill walking side by side as if they were close. I trudged behind with my spear, trying to act less delicate. The problem was that armies had spear-men, and I'd never seen any. The large scale fighting I remembered was of ogres and emissaries, not a company of spear warriors, so I didn't know how a warrior should fight.

Maker, I hoped we could stay out of trouble here.

I felt some wordless support from Justice, like a clap of my back from someone who didn't quite realize how strong he was. I stumbled a little from the feeling but continued on, because I was happy he wasn't angry.

As we arrived at the edge of the village, I realized it was a little bigger than I'd thought, as some of the dwellings were carved out of the one rocky bluff. There was a dozen or more people walking outside along the curving path that was possibly the only lane in the village.

Hawke straightened her posture for an instant, and then slumped in a casual pose, shifting her bow a bit as we passed the first house. I stumbled a little and 'clung' to my spear for balance. Some of our bloodstained rags were tied around my calf. Merrill was our public herbalist now, though she wore a couple of Hawke's daggers openly. Not seeming to be mages seemed wisest now, even if not healing might be impossible for me.

One of the buildings backed up against the bluff was the tavern and another was either a merchant or a pawn shop. Either might do right now for me, but Hawke led us to the merchant's shop, while I looked briefly towards the nameless tavern.

Inside, once my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light again, Hawke strode over to a dwarven woman working on a ledger. Merrill wandered off, tutting to herself with curiosity.

This shop was dim and that odd mix of large scale space, low counters and furniture, and high ceilings that underground places like the Deep Roads had. It almost seemed like what the dwarven wardens called a Dust town.

The merchant looked up with the kind of squint I'd worn for so many months, saying, “Strangers? Did a ship get into port when I wasn't looking or is this another pirate raid?”

Hawke came to a stop, and both she and Paws tilted their heads at the same instant. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

“No, we came over the mountains looking for work. Where are we?” Dera asked, moving over to the nearest case, partly distracted by the blades in it.

The dwarf let her, grinning at Hawke's greed. I moved past that case, and noticed it had some very nice weapons in uncommon metals. Of course, people must have sold their share of the pirate or smuggling booty here, and they'd get a pittance. Hawke examined a great sword with visible runes, swinging it in short arcs as the dwarf almost rubbed her hands in glee.

As much as watching Hawke pretend to want to buy something would be fun, I moved around the shop, looking for herbs, food, and anything else that might be useful. A male dwarf came out into the room looked askance at us. What I didn't like was the scat I saw all around the room. I really didn't want any food that vermin had picked over. I was used to rats in Darktown, but there was no attempt here at keeping them away and obviously there were no cats here either.

More cats survived a Blight than cats along the whole Free Marches...

Jars of salves sat in a wall case but before I reached them, I bumped into a sturdy table was a large assortment of jewelry in a screened case. I had to smile and pick out things for Hawke, at least in my imagination, draping her with gold and jewels. Then I spotted something better for a fugitive, earrings. Checking on Hawke, she was busy, and I gestured at the other merchant so I could look closer. What I liked the best were simple gold hoops etched with swirls like errant breezes. Or updrafts from Flemeth's abyss.

I almost called Hawke over to look but she'd get them for me, like that Tevinter amulet she found one time. I never wore it because they were nearly as wrong as the Chantry in Orlais, but it was a gift from her when everything was still so tentative and new. Something to hold on to because she gave it to me, more than for what it was. I'd wanted to get her something then but the Qun and then my plotting swallowed up too much... I plain forgot for too many years now.

Asking the surly dwarf for the price, it was more than I liked with our needing passage. I dug into my belt pouch and started bargaining using the Chantry amulet, praying he wouldn't recognize the sometimes subtle difference in the symbols. He either didn't or didn't care. With the amulet and a few more silver, they were mine. Hiding them away, I saw that Hawke was looking at some arrows now. She'd need them later. She wasn't skilled enough to make her own.

When I moved over to the salves, I learned that they were horribly pricey, enough that I was sure there wasn't an open herbalist in this village. I looked at other things, but many were blankets and homey things we couldn't use.

Merrill came out of a dark side room, with a tiny smudge of dust on her face and asked the dwarf, “Do you have an aravel? Some place to hang your great floppy hat as you travel. I do not know why you would like to carry all you own on your back as you travel, like some snail. And not even a pretty snail...”

I could only blink and then smirk as the dwarf was treated to her earnestness.

After a moment, the dwarf merchant finally shut his mouth and managed, “Uh, what was that you wanted to buy?”

“An aravel, a... land-ship? I suppose an aravel alone would not be enough to start a new Dalish clan. We would also need halla, though I suppose a horse or even a very large number of dogs might do as well,” Merrill explained, looking vague.

I enjoyed watching someone else fighting off the bemusement that talking with her usually brought. When he turned away scratching his beard, she looked older for an instant.

“We don't have any of those land-ships here,” he finally admitted, picking at his beard and dropping it on floor. “Nor horses or more than a few curs.”

Wash beard, shave beard, none of that for me, I thought as I tried to keep my face unchanged from my disgust.

Looking worried, he added, “But we do have blankets and tents. Nug Falls can build you a skiff or maybe one of these landboats, We don't have no shipwrights living here in Ollcliffe.”

Merrill looked sad at that, but suggested, “I suppose something else will have to do.”

Leading her back he was telling her about how water and storm safe the blankets were. She had a good idea there, so I joined Hawke and the female dwarf, where she was buying another score or arrows, of uneven make.

“Brana, do they have any of that elfroot or bandages?” I asked, trying to sound like a worried mercenary. “We can't afford to get wound rot.”

We had plenty, but I was hoping they'd have deep mushrooms in their caves. Hawke paid for the arrows, and we did get some herbs for simples. I stayed quiet and hoped Hawke would remember what we needed the most. We bought some herbs, but more of the mushrooms than anything else.

Merrill had a tent, but looked a little vexed. I was too, but we were traveling further, and Ferelden was much colder than any of us were used to anymore. Privacy would have to wait. Once we packed our new items away, we left the dark shop.

When outside, Hawke admitted in a quiet voice, “There's a sister here who does the wound care and occasional salve brewing. She's apparently married and senior in a small Chantry here. That might be the better place to get healing than the merchant. She's thought odd because she has a dog too.”

I checked with Justice, but he didn't seem perturbed. I wasn't sure if it was because he was really sated, or he didn't consider those in a village this small to be a threat.

Still we needed more healing or restorative potions, so I nodded to Dera. She led us further along the path, and to what seemed like a warehouse built into the bluff suddenly was revealed as a weather-worn Chantry facade. Dera took my hand and squeezed it. I returned it, let go and moved to the other side of Merrill.

Entering the Chantry, it felt so familiar here, quiet, like when I'd been in the one in Amaranthine before the darkspawn attack. That was the last time I'd seen Wynne, even if I didn't want to try to explain it to her now that I'd forgotten some of the skills I'd learned from her.

Hawke spoke to a young man in simple robes, and he directed us further in past several doors off to the side. He looked harmless, I made sure to remind the spirit. I'd only seen one other sister, and heard the almost comforting sound of a history lecture coming from one of the doors we passed. Comforting until the childish voices I was hearing sank in, and then I felt almost ill. Hawke and Merrill were just looking around.

Further in was the worship area, with a platform below a statue of Andraste-in-flames. She looked a lot more joyful than I really thought was possible while burning alive.

Just before the space opened up into the larger area was another doorway, and Hawke knocked on the sill before entering. Inside I saw the haunches of a dog and the back of this sister's head as she had a ledger on the table. For a wild second I thought it was the Warden, but no, this was an older woman.

And a much less muscled dog.

Hawke did most of the talking, keeping attention on her, a balance between being friendly, eager to find work for our tiny group of mercenaries, and worried about how much healing we could get here. All partly true and very incomplete.

I only half listened while they spoke, occasionally picking at one of the bandages I wore. Hawke was bargaining for several kinds of potions, fingering her spending pouch as she did. More, I was listening for Justice's temper, but he was quiet, if growing irritated.

Half-hearing something, I was alarmed when I heard the muffled clank of heavy armor behind me. Turning, I felt the wave of a Templar dispel, muffling my contact with Justice and making my knees wobble a little.

I saw a Templar in an unfamiliar style of armor, not like what I'd known near any Circle I knew. He was old, older than Irving the last time I'd seen him. Hawke turned in a flash, her hand going for her bow, while Merrill touched my back, perhaps in warning.

“My lady, these travelers sold a Tevinter artifact to Bisig at the store. We must be sure...” he said in a cautions voice, looking at us warily.

Hawke met my eyes, but I couldn't explain, Justice was getting angry at seeing a Templar.

Wait, I told him, against his cresting anger and wish to kill them both. I closed my eyes and gripped my hand behind my back so he could not see the fists I could not unclench.

Hawke said apologetically, “I'm sorry Ser, I found that in the effects of some slavers who attacked this knife ear and I months ago. They thought we'd fetch a good price there. I'd have melted it down myself if I knew it was that different. What... how can you tell it's from Tevinter?” She sounded scared when she got to the question.

I'd reopened my eyes as she spoke, to watch him. I could hear more plated bullies coming and Justice wanted to act while we had numerical advantage. The only thing that helped was that he was easier to ignore with my mana so drained. No one is attacking, I insisted over and over.

They must have been convinced, because the sister patted Dera's arm, saying, “The Maker understands defending the innocent, child, and must surely bless those who continue to work against slavers. Ser Trivor, they're just here for healing supplies. We're fine.”

Unconvinced, the Templar warned, “They should move on, it's been too long since one of the ships made port and tempers are short.”

“Is there an inn?” I asked in a low voice, not that I wanted to stay.

“Not formally,” the sister said with a slight smile, “as we don't have visitors as a rule.”

“We'll go,” Dera said with a sigh. “Maybe we can make Starkhaven or Kirkwall. They'll need mercenaries.”

The Templar relaxed more when he realized we hadn't reacted to losing our mana. He gestured three others away as Hawke finished paying for our purchases.

Justice only simmered.

The Templar coughed and said, “The false Chantry symbol has something like a stylized crenelation above the Maker's sun, easily showing the hubris of their magic over the Maker and Divine Andraste. That image is always part of their iconography or smithing marks.”

Merrill smiled sunnily and thanked him, asking more about the symbols. I merely concentrated on counting my breaths. Hawke asked about a map, even as she packed our latest purchases.

I realized that there weren't even any Tranquil or mages here if the sister was making potions.

Ser Trivor took a moment to kiss the sister's hand in a surprisingly warm moment as Hawke finished tying her pack. I tried to imagine Aveline having that done to her first husband, but just couldn't.

Hawke went into the hall and seemed solemn, either praying or thinking. I tried to as well, but I counted the villagers around us: children and adults, chantry helpers, and Templars. The children for classes alone far outnumbered the sisters and Templars I'd seen. We left, either because Hawke was done praying or because she thought we prayed long enough.

The Templar was civil enough when we were escorted out the door, and I tried to not be too obvious about breathing deeply outside.

Hawke led us along the sluggish stream that was opposite how we entered. Just as we reached the tree line, came the sounds of too many people shifting near us and too many sudden snappy twigs.

Snidely one said as he stepped into view, “Just what we likes to see, stupid travelers with extra coin to spend.”

“Even the boy is pretty,” leered a bigger oaf.

There were maybe a dozen of them I'd already spotted, and I was alarmed about using magic again. I gripped my spear, worried if I did use magic, and worried if I did not.

Hawke said with an almost feral grin, “You, fool, weren't paying attention when I told the sister that my dear elf-friend and I beat a nasty gang of Tevinter slavers. Leave us and live.”

Chapter 13: A Tent to Call Their Own

Summary:

An ambush at a smuggler harbor? Not a surprise. A gift delayed by years? Yes, surprise.

-- The Free Marches - outside Ollcliffe harbor village

Hawke:

That Reverend Mother seemed the kinder sort I had been more used to before Kirkwall, which had made Petrice such a nasty surprise. Why this one and Ser Trivor were here, in a place that had to serve as a smuggler or pirate port, I didn't want to ask. I didn't like that both Anders and Merrill sagged very slightly, but they didn't act against him and so I thought we managed to remain undiscovered. I wasn't worried about our fighting our way out, as I wasn't that worried about four Templars.

What I didn't like was that the one left the Chantry at almost a run. Ser Trivor didn't seem to notice and I noticed his eyes had some of that fogged look I'd seen in older Templars. Once I'd packed our new potions, I paused near the altar, considering the street outside when we entered. It wouldn’t give that much of an advantage for an ambush, and I didn't want to keep Anders in here longer than needed.

I tensed as I opened the door, and was glad to see Paws was alert as well. The quiet street had the handful of people moving along with their bread from a bakery or large, covered basket. All doing everyday things.

We didn't need anything else this village had, and I wasn't sure enough of Justice to want to stay at an inn. We'd have to go to Nug Falls. I wasn't sure if I should pray we'd find an old smuggling contact there or not.

On the good side, we'd gotten some supplies and Anders saw a Templar and Mother without attacking them. On the bad, we weren't far enough away yet. The one woman at the Chantry for help had been beaten, and several others in the village had that huddled, wary look I'd often seen in Anders' clinic.

Anders hadn't even seemed to notice; he was preoccupied with Justice.

I wasn't going to point it out even if I felt bad about it. He needed care, and time. But I felt callous and guilty that I hadn't allowed him to help, and I hated that I was choosing our immediate safety over others. I tried to tell myself that their injuries weren't that bad, but it wasn't helping.

We had to leave this unhappy place as soon as possible, I couldn't do anything to help here and I was getting angrier again. Looking at the terrain, the steep slopes and bluffs said we could really only go west. I wanted to be a fair distance away before we camped.

Paws growled almost silently just before the strangers appeared. I started to reach for my daggers but slowed, hoping we might talk our way out first. I also prayed Anders could avoid doing magic.

Then it didn't matter as the band of bandits revealed their intention. The one still had the heavier armor he'd worn in the Chantry a short while ago. Two others spoke, but I watched the warrior.

I gave him his last warning that even Magisters, held no fear for us. I could see from his face that he didn't believe me, but I wasn't about to attack him directly like some warrior. I flung my shield at an archer off to my side hoping to knock him silly, but my attention was on the warrior who led. Beat him and some of the others might leave.

Kill him in a messy way and they might flee in a rout.

All this took less than a second and when I stabbed him in the back with both blades, making a spray of blood, he dropped. I scattered others away from Merrill and Anders after that and moved from target to target until all were either down or fled.

Paws was close to Anders, so he'd earned a skritch to his ears. Merrill had used some of her more subtle spells, and some of our attackers were asleep. And Anders? He looked healthy still, though he had a couple of cuts and the start of a shiner. He gripped his spear with white knuckles. The point had some blood on it; he shook as he stood there and looked around.

Still wobbly, he called, “Does anyone need healing?”

I rushed over to hold him for a moment and say, “I'm so proud of you.”

Seizing me closer for an almost desperate kiss, he soon calmed enough to say into my ear, “I could get used to this part after a fight.”

Looking up into his eyes, they were only the clear and warm brown I loved to look into, whatever the light. Anders had that silly look with a smile in even his eyes and I...

A cough broke into my daze, and Merrill said with some amusement, “Perhaps you might go stargazing later tonight if there is no rain.”

Flushing, I took a deep breath and said, “We need to get out of here before the cowards bring back friends to finish their ambush.”

With a quick hug, Anders stepped back, even if he took hold of my hand as he did. “Leaving here is a fine idea.”

Paws bumped into me, and I realized that his mouth was already cleaned of blood while I was distracted. They were right, these louts could return or wake, and I wasn't interested in proving we could have killed them all.

So we trotted away, following a rarely used path to the west. Once we'd gotten a better distance away and left the path, Anders healed us all. We returned to the road and I pushed our pace so we covered a lot of ground before we made camp.

Our attempt to raise the tent wasn't that funny at first. I swore a lot. Anders had elegantly pithy insults for the merchants and the makers of the tent long before he changed targets. Merrill giggled. When we finally figured it out, I was sweaty and sore, on top of being tired. We tucked our blankets and packs inside, so we'd fit in with some extra space so it wasn't snug. Anders wasn't that happy we weren't alone, but we could sleep better if we were warm and dry.

Sleeping well was still a problem many nights. I'd wake, and once sure it was only a dream I'd go back to sleep. Some nights Anders was also awake, and sleep was not quick to return. On worse nights I woke before him. He looked like he dreamed, but he knew nothing when he woke, which bothered me.

Once I'd started the soup for tonight, I had some time and fed twigs into the fire.

Dropping down beside me and putting his arms around me, Anders suggested against my neck, “I have been told we should go stargaze.”

I didn't answer right away, still more thinking about how the twig was catching fire and worrying about what fires we'd started.

“My love?” he asked with a wobble a moment later.

“Yes?”

“I love you, my shining light,” Anders said more firmly. “Whatever happens, remember that.”

Turning to face him, I asked, trying not to sound accusing, “Are you planning to do something stupid again?”

Wistfully, he admitted, “No, but I'm not much help in a fight right now. I could get killed in that way, or some large and heavy rock could fall on me. I want you to know how much I love you... but I cannot find the best words for that. Whatever happens to me, just remember.”

“I am expecting you to try very hard to avoid dying,” I said, wiping my leaking eyes. “I love you too, and want you with me for a long time.”

“Certainly, and I want you to also live too, even if some house sized bird swoops down to feed me to its fledglings,” Anders said while cupping my cheeks. “Don't you do anything stupid then, Aldera.”

“Better watch me, I have been known to cheat,” I smiled.

“Yes, while... about that. I'm sorry I sold off your gift like that. I hadn't really wanted you to know about it and I didn't want to cut in to our passage and bribe money,” Anders admitted with a flush.

I'd forgotten about that, and said, “That's okay, it wasn't that bright an idea for a gift.”

Reaching into his belt pouch, he said quietly, “I hope this one is better.”

With that, he handed me a small lump wrapped in a scrap of fabric and said, “I'm sorry this took so long.”

I was surprised, as I so rarely had gotten wrapped gifts for any occasion since Mother's death. I didn't want to look greedy, but when I saw how worried he was I decided to quickly unwrap the simple package.

Inside was a pair of earrings, with some kind of design in the surface. They looked substantial, and far too nice to belong in a place like that village. I had to touch the shining gold and looked at him, “But I don't wear earrings.”

“That we can fix, but the etching reminded me of you. And really, earrings are practical for living on the road. I meant to get you something then and just forgot; like a fool when I could have ordered something custom. I'm sure I could have had something made, I spent so much on everything else... I guess I could have gotten a necklace or something with gems, but this seemed so perfect...” Anders touched my ear briefly and added, “Fresh breeze, storm winds blowing the old away, the updraft in the abyss, the words that change minds, and even your fresh mouth...”

I stopped his babbling by taking his hand and saying, “They're lovely, but I'd wanted the necklace to be your gift. It doesn't seem very fair for me to be wearing the result. Maybe you should wear them, you're better with words.”

He looked hurt and I felt stupid to be turning down his gift, so I hastily added, “How about we each wear one?”

Anders' smile was relieved and he pulled me against him with a sigh.

After dinner we heated one of my metal picks and pierced my ear after he cooled it briefly. I was not that used to sitting still when metal cut my skin, but in moments it was done and healed.

In a few more minutes, his looked nice too. Then again he didn't need gold for that.

Merrill approved, “I'm sure those are very nice, especially when the sun shines on them tomorrow. It is too bad that you do not have a proper tattoo from when you became an adult like Hawke does, Anders.”

Tugging his new earring, Anders replied with a smirk, “How do you know I don't, Merrill?”

“I'm just glad we got through a fight,” I said while patting Merrill before she could reply. She and Anders always annoyed each other, the story between most of my friends. Putting my arm around Anders again, I reminded him, “I don't expect us to avoid notice for long, no longer than six months I'd be willing to bet.”

“Your gambling friends aren't here to take your bets, Hawke,” Anders said with a smile that disappeared instantly after he spoke.

I rubbed his back, as Isabela was not in any way his error.

“You could play cards with your friend Paws,” Merrill suggested. “Varric was giving him tips, wasn't he?”

“No, no, I don't need to lose more money to a mabari,” Anders protested.

Paws whined unhappily, and I could feel that my face had almost frozen in place with my amusement.

Looking a little frantic, Anders said to my mabari, “No, I can't afford to. It's embarrassing.”

Rubbing away my smile, I relaxed my face into a more neutral expression. I was compressing my mouth to prevent another smile.

“Oh, maybe he would be willing to play and return the money to you?” Merrill said with the tiniest smirk. “Where would he spend his winnings?”

Nodding his head and panting, Paws agreed. Anders looked resigned and I dug out some cards. We didn't play that long, though I hadn't realized I missed such a small thing.

When Anders reclaimed his coins, we started settling in the tent for the night. It was roomy enough, even if he was cross that Merrill and Paws were inside too.

--- x ---

It took only a few days for us to reach the next settlement that had an actual protected harbor where the rank smell of penned animals reached us as we got closer. There'd been planted areas within an hour's walk, but as we got closer, the land was in intensive use for various plantings wherever it wasn't rocky. Our first view was from a slightly higher spot in the road, where we could have a good view of the harbor. It looked like there were two ships in port, and neither flew any recognizable flag.

I thought I had been here once from the shape of the harbor, large and protected from storms on three sides. Then, I'd been told to shut up and keep my nose out of the locals' business. Bethany and I had still been upset about Carver's death and what our dear uncle'd arranged, so it was no hardship to stay on the ship. We didn't have the interest or money to sample the inns and any bonuses were partly being saved for Mother. I did start replacing my too-warm Ostagar armor and tried it out while climbing around the ship while Bethany watched.

Now that seemed a hundred years ago.

Still, there was a slim chance I might know someone here, so I announced, “I might have been here with Bethany when working for Athenril.”

“Might have been?” Anders wondered.

“They didn't tell me much, especially for the first few months,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “We weren't paid anything, unless I bled extra usefully or nearly begged for replacement armor. I thought Athenril enjoyed not paying the shemlen.”

“Hawke...” Merrill said worriedly.

“Brana,” I reminded her. “She did soften about nine months in, and we stayed on a few extra months as she started paying us nicely. We left money with Mother as often as we were in Kirkwall. But I don't remember some of the places we went for the first month or two.”

Anders moved closer and put an arm around my waist, “Will anyone remember you?”

“I don't think so, and hardly anyone used my name, so 'shem' and 'scout' were the nicer things I was called while we were here,” I explained, as I'd tried to forget part of this.

“That doesn't sound too risky,” he said with a slight smile. “Do you think we might get passage here?”

“No, these ships don't take passengers, only cargo. We're not cargo, but I think the other ship I saw here in those days had the cargo I hate. I wouldn't trust them,” I finished while gritting my teeth.

His voice deeper suddenly, Anders agreed, “Fine. No passage here.” He shook his head, but nothing else happened.

“What do we hope to accomplish here?” Merrill asked.

“Not something large, we need news about what is happening in other places and any port town should have that. A small place with little guard or Templar presence that we can't get easily cornered. Sell some of the extra weapons, and maybe replace your armor if we happen to find any. A lot of odd things got dumped in shops here, according to Athenril,” I mused. “Nothing we can't do other places, but I don't know how many ports we'll have to try until we might find a captain we can trust.”

“Onward, Brana?” Anders asked with a small smile.

Nug Falls was maybe midway between Lothering and Kirkwall in size, and as we entered we could see there were far more people and businesses. Even a single inn with the name of Andraste's Arms could be read from a distance away. Only when closer, did we see that the statue was softened from many years of rain and wind. What made me want to laugh was seeing that where the arms were broken off, was also weather-worn.

Anders smirked as well.

I asked a youngster for where better merchants were, and the answer matched what I remembered, so we visited a weaponsmith's shop. I could smell a forge nearby, reminding me of the Foundry, but I didn't hear an active large scale forge. The smith came out front and brought out some blades when I asked.

We made a show of examining them, but only bought a modest spare sword, before selling some blades to him. I wanted a pair of matching daggers but I had to try to act like Aveline had in places like this, dismissing most blades but only showing cautious interest in sturdy and well made swords. I did like the extra weight when I swung it, but it was so much heavier and slow.

The armorer talked more, and mentioned that some armor he had was from a ship out of Amaranthine. That caught Anders' attention, and he asked about the armor and armorer. All this one could say was that it was made from dragon scale.

Anders nodded his head the tiniest bit, so I brought out a shield that was too bulky for us to even pretend to use. It was a good one, and I'd had a good rune put on it.

That caught the merchant's attention and bargaining got spirited. Eventually, for the shield and a couple gold more, we got armor for him that was much better than we'd cobbled together in the forest.

We visited other merchants and they were as much interested in gossip as trade. Not as much when I said we'd just come overland from Navarre. It didn't take long for us to confirm that there was no Circle here, and not much of a Chantry. It seemed no one thought much of the Reverend Mother here, at least as far as entering this Chantry. They complained that she did little but scold the smugglers, pirates, and loose women, to the merchants' amusement.

We were offered bets twice as to when she'd realize there were also pretty boys at work in Nug Falls. The best part of collecting gossip was that Anders relaxed.

As far as fishing for news about events in Kirkwall, there were dozens of rumors and some that only made me blink in surprise at their insanity. The descriptions of the Champion were pretty vague, being a huge warrior who'd always killed the Arishok with a mighty blow from her shining sword. I wasn't as sure about continuing to pretend to be a warrior, now. Was I more worried about strangers identifying me, or people like Sebastian or Cullen finding us? Other tales said that I planted the foul magic that destroyed the Chantry... and Anders tried to control a twitch at that. One Antivan insisted it was done by a blood mage who wanted the Grand Cleric's blood for a spell. Others were closer, mentioning an apostate lover who'd been corrupted by a demon, not that I wanted accuracy either.

The only rumors I was glad to hear were some tales that mages had escaped and not recaptured. Some children from the Gallows got out before the real fighting, and fled to their relatives, who were loud at how they'd been broken in the short time in the Galllows. Anders' eyes glowed at that. The nullification of obedient mages by the Knight Commander was approved by some, but not by all who spoke about it.

Orsino's stupidity had almost become a secret, he'd killed everyone but us who might have reported it. I wondered, had he ever done magic like that before? Was that a grain of truth behind Meredith's insanity? Not that it mattered, executing all mages for one's crime was evil. I wasn't sure if I wanted the truth known, not that I expected Varric to be quiet.

There were rumors that the Templars had seized my mansion briefly before changing over to the Viscount's palace. Another said Cullen had been declared viscount, but then the nobles rejected him and elected one I vaguely remembered meeting about a problem. He was supposedly ruling out of his own mansion and trying to gain the palace.

There were no definite rumors about where we'd gone. Some thought I'd been an agent of either Ferelden or Tevinter and returned there. Another said we killed each other, quarreling, or that Anders had killed me once I'd served my purpose.

I had to nudge Anders discreetly when we heard that, as he'd started to look bad. Then he lost almost all expression.

We did hear of towers having problems, some even supported by neighboring people. We were heading generally towards Cumberland. Anders heard there was some kind of Collegium there. But I was sure I'd heard about only two in all the Free Marches: Starkhaven and Kirkwall. The circle in Ferelden had no unrest and was still engaging in regular trade over the last month, which made the merchants happier than Anders. The closest other tower was in Orlais, and I was not going to even hint at going there to Anders. We might as well go visit the Qunari or Tevinter.

Then came the weird rumors and everyone laughed at those, including the merchants telling us. The Qun were ruling Kirkwall, Dragons could take human form, and the Chantry was building a new tower near Orzammar to more directly control the lyrium trade. The only thing that gave me any comfort was that in no story had anyone thought we were caught by Templars. We'd been spotted, singly and in various groups, in at least a half-dozen places.

Merrill was amused, with a twinkle in her eyes only through the silly ones. We didn't buy much, another tarp, a few rare or awful tomes, and more useful travel supplies.

By the time we did that, we'd ended up near the docks and shipyards where most merchants had their shops. A few had tables out, mostly for trading food and other everyday items.

One had churns and rolling pins and other household items we didn't need, so I paused to pick out which direction might have another new merchant or gossip. Anders hurried over to the wood turner, as if he was a moth. I didn't see why, until he reached into a crate and brought up a squirming ball of fur...

Chapter 14: Cumberland Gap

Summary:

Collecting rumors and looking for passage, their road continues west, where Cumberland in Nevarra has the closest Circle Tower... and port.

-- The Free Marches - Nug Falls

Anders:

Listening for rumors was wearing. Listening and keeping silence were not that easy for me.

Before my year being kept in a closed cell, I'd get punished and lectured and it was over. Greagoir himself never seemed that upset at me, but that last time it was a strange and demanding Templar that found me in Gwaren. He'd angered enough Fereldan freeholders with his demands on our way back to the Circle Tower, that I'd smirked most of the way until he expressed his displeasure. On that journey, my only amusement then was eavesdropping on the man.

Perhaps it was because it wasn't just my hide at risk now, I worried more. Or maybe that I'd become too used to being paranoid. Hawke was pretty good at teasing stories and rumors as she chatted about the things for sale and the other merchants. Her voice even sounded younger, much younger than when we met. One older baker even patted her on the head, though Hawke tensed a bit at that. A sweet roll followed, which she slipped to her mabari.

I wasn't quite reconciled to her being hunted too, being hunted and blamed in these stories when she had not destroyed the Chantry. That blood was not on her hands, but no one seemed to believe that for all I tried to shield her.

Most of the time, I just couldn't stand too close as she collected rumors. I was beginning to think it was better if she and Merrill seemed more involved with each other to outsiders, or was I finding that idea too easy to distract myself with? Even partly lost in my thoughts, I still heard enough of how much we were hunted that I was surprised when Paws nosed my hand a few times.

“This doesn't mean I'm a dog person now...” I whispered as I petted him.

We slowly made our way closer to the docks, where the rumors should be freshest and where both sailors and townspeople were eager for news. Then I spotted something I hadn't seen out in the open for years, seeming like forever: a crate with furry bundles inside.

I hurried over, afraid it would be more dogs, but they were kittens, all about at weaning age. I counted five. A gray tabby noticed that I was bent over their box and tried to climb higher to see me better.

Feeling that I was smiling so hard my face hurt, I scooped it up and stood upright again. He, well I checked and it was a he, managed to roll over in my palms and look out from his new vantage point.

I felt an arm around me, and I looked up long enough to see that Hawke was smirking at me. Not thinking about it, I cupped the kitten against my belly, not just wanting but remembering.

Hawke murmured, “Why not? We already have Paws. And I can't say I've seen this many cats at once for years.”

In a warning tone, Merrill said from where she was kneeling by the crate, “You should be warned that travel home will not be safe.”

For a moment that reminded me of losing Ser Pounce years ago, but Aldera only shrugged a little when I looked at her and then put her head on my shoulder.

We couldn't speak privately here, but... Hawke continued to rub my back and smile.

Tracing the little darker stripes above his eyes with one finger, I couldn't help chuckling when I saw the mabari was on the other side of Hawke and calmly looking down at the other kittens still in the crate.

Suddenly, I saw why Dera'd been talking mabaris with Aveline. Paws had gray around his muzzle now. How long had I missed that? I wasn't sure how long mabaris lived compared to more stupid dogs, but Dera had to have noticed. I'd always grumbled at her about him, sadly jealous that he'd come to Kirkwall. Who then could she talk to about him? How long until she'd lose him like I had Ser Pounce-a-lot?

Not sure what to do with that realization, I stepped forward and asked the merchant, “How much?”

The price was perhaps a little steep, though I supposed the ships bought them. I paid it with barely a bit of haggling.

I followed Dera and Merrill along, happy to be cradling the kitten in my arm and my spear in the other. There weren't that many more merchants, and later when we passed where I'd found the kittens, there was only an empty crate left under the table.

Hawke nearly marched us towards a square and the inn there. We ordered ales from the bar before taking a table beside the sparking clean window. Then came bread and cheese and things we hadn't had for nearly a month. I offered bits of meat and watered milk to my kitten and watched as he tried to fill his belly.

Merrill and Hawke spoke about getting travel food as they ate, but when Dera asked the wench, she brought a woman in Chantry robes. I wanted to act, but made myself relax when they were only talking about food.

I was bitten by the hungry kitten when I didn't let go of some meat quickly enough. That distracted me for a moment longer while Hawke was spoke calmly with the woman. I'd shredded more meat and sucked on the bite.

A few coins and Hawke collected a bundle from the server before we left.

Outside, the square was still busy, and Hawke asked quietly, “Do you think he could stay in a basket or something? You need your hands free.”

That ambush had been instructional because I couldn't stand in one place now and still attack. I wasn't as sure the kitten would be able or willing to stay on my pack alone as Ser Pounce had. What bothered me was that I didn't know where I could strap the basket. So I asked, “Where?”

Looking at me out of the corners of her eyes, Dera suggested, “Strapped up on Paws' shoulders.”

But... but...

Dera added quickly, “Paws can take him away from combat. He'll be safer, at least until he's older and we can figure out something else.”

I sighed, there were more of us when Ser Pounce-a-lot was with me, all Wardens who could watch my back. Sometimes, I didn't get injured, as Oghren and Justice watched out for me more than others, and Hawke couldn't quite make up for that alone. But Maker, she tried. Moving him away from grenades and magic was a rational idea, but I wasn't sure...

But then, Paws would be safer too and I wondered if Dera even realized that. I sighed and agreed.

We went back and found a merchant with a lidded basket that would work and there was enough room for him to move around in the towels. The mabari looked at me as if he was betrayed.

Now that we had everything we needed if we had to run, Hawke led us towards the dock to find the harbor master. That didn't go well as he was suspicious of two strangers who had not arrived by ship. I realized he was the town's leader when guards arrived to his office to glare at us.

Back and forth Hawke spoke to him, and he finally shared the names of the ships in port. Merrill seemed to be the focus of his ire and he refused to even count her. The only good thing was that Hawke managed to avoid a shakedown for permissions.

Still she managed to hide her anger as we approached the ships. Seven ships were in port, all but one lacked the flag of a country. Officially they were all fishing vessels, but they didn't have the right equipment, I saw far more weapons on the ships than nets. This was a pirate port, even more so than the last.

I didn't trust them as we were worth far more as prisoners than passengers, so it took no effort to look grim while Hawke visited each vessel to speak with an officer. We omitted the one flying a Tevinter flag; only partly as there were guards preventing our approach. It didn't make much difference as they weren't popular; a few guards of the harbormaster watched.

The two that were fishing vessels didn't want passengers, not even reacting to Hawke's hinting. Three more were going towards Kirkwall or directly to Orlais. The last, that usually sailed out to Ferelden, was in for major repairs. They had taken another ship and sank it only days ago, so this officer was celebrating by swimming in a vat of ale by his rank odor.

We moved away from the docks shortly before sunset, and I suggested, “We might pay the fishing ones?”

“No,” Hawke said warily. “They don't stay bought. None of them were smugglers as they didn't respond to any cues; they really didn't want passengers. I'd guess pirates are more active in the chaos. We need to move on, as we don't want them to see we're desperate...”

With that, we started to make our way out of Nug Falls, hopefully without attracting attention.

Not blessed with luck today, a drunken voice called from in front of a tavern, “You're that bitch Champion, aren't you? The one that destroyed Kirkwall and the Grand Cleric?”

Merrill grabbed my arm discreetly as I tried to stay calm. Drunks had an endless supply of stupid.

“Oh, really?” Hawke drawled. “Too bad I couldn't use that mistake to get some ales from an idiot like you. I wish I had armor like that.”

“That Champion consorted with elves too, and had a sword just like that one on your back on that statue,” he insisted.

Damn, the sword on the statue was a shorter one like Aveline used, so Dera had switched to a longer one and packed her shield away.

“Consorted? Knife-ears are convenient, and don't tell me you think otherwise. I don't pay this one, only when necessary in the so-called free ports,” Hawke said lifting Merrill's face with a jerk, her leer dark enough to make my stomach turn over.

Merrill stayed quiet, and Justice rumbled.

“But if you think I won't put you down because I don't have a bounty with your name on it...” Hawke started before smoothly pulling out the great sword and taking a stance different than Fenris' was, but still looking relaxed. The blade was long enough that it was close to the fool.

She couldn't fight with it, but she was smooth, the leather grips dirty, and the blade appeared worn.

I could hear mutters of 'get the bitch' from several directions and a bet placed. I gripped my spear, and considered how I'd use that if I had to.

The warrior to your left, came unexpectedly from Justice.

Surprised, I looked closer and saw she was focused on Hawke while smacking her lips. She was ignoring me, which gave me a very good place under her arm to stick the spear. I gripped my spear.

Leaning closer, Dera warned the belligerent fool, “I might not be able to fight one of those horn-heads like that bitch did, but you won't live long enough to care.”

Finally sobering enough to see his danger, he froze.

“I wonder how much you'd bring in Minrathous,” Hawke gloated, leaning a little closer to draw a trickle of blood. “Though quieter might sell better. Should I haul you to the Emerald Wind and ask the first officer?”

A snicker from those gathered to watch came only after he pissed his pants and started to cry drunkenly.

I almost wanted to as well, though I had to bite my cheek. Justice was beyond rumbling but getting angry. I don't know if I could convince him she was lying when I was so uneasy. The fool scrambled away safely enough. Hawke turned in a circle looking for further challengers, but no one met her eyes and she sheathed her blade. Once more of them scattered, I put an arm around Merrill, hoping they'd play along.

Hawke didn't react, her eyes were coldly glinting as she watched the crowd. After a few more minutes she must have decided the risk was over, and she led us out of the town. We found a trade road that had regular use and headed west towards Cumberland.

--- x x ---

Hawke:

My arms were sore by the time that fool surrendered. I wished Carver had seen that I finally managed to swing one of those things like he had with such ease. I dared not rub my arms as soon as the confrontation was over, no matter that my arm muscles were screaming at me.

The idiot didn't even remember that it wasn't that long a blade on the statue and used with one hand. I dared not use daggers if I could help it on our travels, Sebastian knew better.

So I gritted my teeth as we left Nug Falls, only partly because my arms ached. Cumberland was bigger, but I was sure there would be Templars there if there were mages. As part of Nevarra, that city was between the Free Marches and edge of Orlais; Orlais and Nevarra were often fighting. I could hope mages could be more free outside Orlais, but Cumberland was too close for that to be tolerated. I had to get Anders through this area quickly.

We moved along the road only a couple of miles, and saw fortified farmsteads well off the road a few times. Merrill had taken us through a dense woods off the road before claiming she had something she had to do for a while. We'd raise the tent, even if the ache in my arms was getting worse as we traveled despite my rubbing. My stomach was too, but I was getting used to that.

“Dera...” Anders said with some worry. He came over and touched my arm before casting a healing spell with a glare at me. When done, he sighed and added, “I could have healed that a mile back. Are you m... Tell me if you're in pain.”

I didn't quite meet his eyes, and muttered, “I was thinking about what we might find in Cumberland.”

Paws nosed Anders with a whuff, and he knelt to free his kitten immediately, glaring at me for a second more. Paws, free of the basket, rolled on the longer grass here, trying to rub where the basket had been.

Bending over, I scratched where the basket and strapping had been, and Paws was pleased.

After a moment, Anders squatted down beside me, with the kitten balanced on his shoulder. “Dera, I... talk to me. You're changing, in ways I don't like.”

I had to laugh bitterly at that. “Welcome to my world. But if it's really needed, isn't that enough? That we're free to make a difference for the mages?”

His dead silence said my barb hit home, but I didn't like this either. I remembered what I said and thought while I was trying to intimidate that boil on an inflamed ass without serious bloodshed. My stomach twisted and I lurched away to vomit the little bit that was still in my stomach.

Cool hands braced my forehead, and soon it was only dry heaves that finally settled as he murmured soothing noises to me. Only breathing through the acid taste I waited to see if I was done, before I sighed.

Anders handed me one of his rags and then his canteen for me to rinse, before pulling me back and down to sit on the ground with him.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want to have to kill idiots or innocents,” I admitted, chewing a dried leaf he gave me. “But I hate the things I've said. And scared by things I'm willing to do.”

“I'm terrified that you're losing your innocence, Vengeance is tarnishing you too,” Anders said in a stressed voice, holding me tight.

Biting my lip, I nodded. “I can't see anything else right now. We will always be hunted, and if we slaughter our way out of minor problems, armies will find us.”

My hackles rose when Anders held me painfully tight and he glowed enough to read by.

They proclaimed, “Let them try! Let their Maker decide their destiny, then they will harm no more mages! No, you should not have the burden of our decisions. Please, don't lose yourself.”

The light had faded as he spoke, and by the time he finished, I peeked and saw his eyes were now normal with the little light reflections of the fading sunset.

Giving him a hug, I told him, “I guess I'll need to find some feathers for myself, or maybe borrow Merrill's string.” He was tense again, so I ran fingers through his hair, catching on the beads with the tiny clacks when they hit each other.

Claws hit my hand, trying to hit his beads and I jerked back, restraining a smack at the cat.

Anders winced and healed me, saying, “I'm sorry, Hawke. This will pass once he gets used to you.”

All I could think for a moment was that Paws hadn't made me bleed when he was this young.

We lit a campfire and set up the tent, both a distance away from my mess. A small piece of cured meat and other goodies we'd bought and we had a feast ready before Merrill came back, looking serene. I didn't eat much, worried a little about my stomach.

After dinner, Merrill wondered, “Have you chosen a name for your furry friend? Or will you let him choose his own name from his explorations?”

Anders smiled, almost for the first time that evening and said while petting the tiny head, “I hope Ser Pounce is still using his name, so I want a new one. What do you think of 'Ser Mew Cattinay' for a name?”

The kitten mewed and Anders' smile widened.

“He seems so dignified when he looked down at me from his Anders-throne earlier,” Merrill smiled as she brought a string out to dangle for the kitten. “How large will he grow? I cannot be sure.”

Anders then looked at me for comment, but I only could smile and contribute, “Don't look at me, I like it. Remember, I only came up with the oh-so-clever name Big Paws.”

Chuckling, he shook his head and admitted with a snarky grin, “I'd hope I could do better than that even if I was very, very drunk, my dear.” Still in a good mood, he ended up playing with the kitten until he settled for the night.

When he did, I took a deep breath and finally forced myself to go over to where Merrill was repairing some of her armor and said, “Merrill? I want to apologize for the shitty things I've said about and to you in those last towns.”

“Are you very sure you do not believe them, Hawke? My people have a long memory of Marches and the cruelties and bindings placed on our brethren in those tiny traps in the cities to keep them small and weak,” she said sternly.

“Maker, no. Your people, city or Dalish, keep getting screwed, only slightly less than the mages. At least some of you are Dalish and freer.” I bit my lip and told her, “I will lie through my teeth as much as it takes, if that means I don't have to kill foolish people, and keep others safe, as many as I can manage.”

She patted my arm and smiled, saying, “I have known that for years, lethallan. You have already done such many times. Only those who have been willingly blind will have missed that, that shows their own foolishness. How could I not realize that, so late after what you claimed to my kin when Marethari was taken by the Dread Wolf?”

I had to rub my earring at hearing that, and say, “Oh. I just didn't want you to think I meant it.”

“We Dalish understand being hidden and protective colors and hues. Making shem soil themselves is counted a great win in story competitions,” Merrill said with a slightly nasty smile.

My next breath was somehow deeper, and I hugged her before moving into the tent to sleep.

The next few days travel were quiet once we descended through a gap in the ridge between Nevarra and the Planasene forest. Soon we started seeing other travelers going both directions, especially once the road joined up with the ruins of the Imperial highway. Then we had to speed up or slow down to avoid travel with others.

Once the Imperial highway turned north, the signposts said the road to Cumberland was the less finished road staying along the coast. The maps I had learned once weren't that detailed for scale, but more and more farms and even villages appeared more closely together as we went west. We didn't tarry, despite the few inns tempting me with the idea of beds and fluffy pillows. We just weren't boring enough in this farmland to not attract attention, as there seemed to be few mercenaries or elves that we'd seen.

I almost laughed when one village elder tried to hire just Anders and I to guard him from unnamed forces. A bit longer and I realized he was afraid of mages, blood mages, and the Kirkwall maleficar, not in that order. Anders jerked the tiniest bit and was blinking a lot, while trying to not laugh.

It would be easy money, and we could keep him safe from blood mages and maleficar, not that I thought he that much to be worried about. If I thought we could safely settle this close to Orlais, I might have been tempted.

As I pretended to consider the offer, Anders looked a little worried. Merrill kept her face down so her smile was hidden from the taller humans. But I turned him down using my 'servant' as the reason.

A few more days of travel, and we could see the city and harbor of Cumberland when we crested a hill. There were a few taller buildings or towers that I would have liked to explore, but we had other business and needed to pass through without notice.

Cumberland's city wall was still a distance away, but something like a village had formed outside the gate. Probably taxes, gate tolls, and snuggling made it popular. There were two inns, one with a splitting signboard with someone in colorful motley in a bed. Inside, there was a dirt and straw floor with no beds or rooms, only pallets in the common. I knew sleeping in a public area would give others too much time to identify us.

The other inn had a carved book and goblet full of wine outside, prompting a quick joke about trying to drink it, but inside were tiny rooms and necessary privacy. Anders made a face when I ordered one room, but a single elf was a target for slavers. Merrill ordered her own room anyway while petting Paws. I supposed we could have our own room for one night...

After the luxury of a hot meal, to my dismay our room only had a straw mat instead of a mattress or straw tick.

When the door was shut, a couple cold spells prevented small friends. I set snares and fixed the door, while thinking again about how my life had changed. If I had kept track correctly, six weeks had passed since we left Kirkwall. Would that now be my only way of measuring time?

Chapter 15: Like Ships That Pass in the Night

Summary:

Golden towers with a mage college, master craftsmanship, and an active nobility only partly occupied with Orlais, so many distractions from finding a dicreet ship for fugitives. Much further west, and they will be entering Orlais.

-- The Free Marches - Cumberland

Anders:

I saw a golden tower still standing tall, and some other smaller ones clustered close by as we got closer to Cumberland itself. This city looked far larger than Denerim, which was a new kind of problem for us. I couldn't tell if that was good or bad news for the mages living here. We hadn't heard anything different about us or Kirkwall from the very few travelers we met lately. Their news was no more detailed or believable than what we'd learned in Nug Falls.

While Nug Falls had seemed plain and utilitarian if not quite grimy, that matched Kirkwall. Many of the statues and art there were still remnants of Tevinter rule, and they were menacing even before they attacked us. Maybe Meredith somehow triggered some defense of the city, absurd since she would use that power against mages.

Ferelden was plainer, but it was a honest simplicity that had usually had better things to do than threaten inbound ships or remind everyone that slaves had no rights. Flowers and the occasional statue, not much else to be spared after the generations of fighting Orlais or rebuilding after the Blight. Maybe art and crafting would appear, but they were more stubborn in their self reliance than anything else.

I might have known Hawke was an immigrant from there just from that.

As soon as we came down through the gap out of the Planasene plateau into Nevarra, villages became more pleasant to look at. Even mile markers and sometimes fences had carvings or color. Small villages had at least a statue, and the decorations and craftmanship became more and more grand as we approached Cumberland. Clothing wasn't that much more decorated than in Kirkwall or Amaranthine, with bits of ribbon or embroidery on even the most workman of clothing, but craft was visible there too.

A few we passed who were going east said that something happened but didn't know or care about anything else than their daily affairs. They weren't afraid or angry at mages, just nearly indifferent in favor of their anger about forces from Orlais massing near their border. I'd settle. Dera found out that a force of Templars had ridden out of Cumberland in a rush weeks ago for Val Royeaux. No mages had been seen since then, nor Tranquils, which made my spirit angry.

That was all we heard before we reached Cumberland. Hawke was obsessively planning for our safety, watching around us with a fierce attention. We found two inns a distance outside the city wall, in a village that hoped being close to Cumberland would keep them safe, but I wasn't that worried. They were both shabby and somewhat ramshackle enough that I doubted Templars would even step inside.

I could barely make out part of the first inn's name, the image on the signboard looked like it was Jester in a Coma. Once we saw inside, I refused our sleeping here in a common room, giving strangers the leisure to see us unguarded. I could feel rumbles of approval when we went to the other. The Sage's Goblet had a touch of class with simple art above the bar, and even private rooms. Maker bless the elf, she requested a room of her own before we ordered enough of the roast pork to feed Ser Mew and Paws. I paid for an armload of the tallow lamps after a scant, hurried meal, while Hawke studied the other customers in vigilance.

Once in our room while she immediately set to repairing the lock and setting a snare. I hummed as I scattered lamps on wall shelves and other flat surfaces.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to scout. We will learn if this Circle needs help, I told Justice into a deep silence.

That wasn't quite approval I felt, but I would take it.

Aldera finished fussing at the door and checked the high and grimy window one more time before leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed.

Quickly, before I could chicken out, I stepped over and leaned into her for a kiss, pressing her against the wall. A tension I'd held for weeks ebbed, from weeks of infrequent touches and chaste nighttime embraces. My kisses started hopefully enough, that she was still my Dera and not just my Champion, but then I couldn't stop. I didn't want to, as Hawke's arms were pulling me closer too as our breathing grew labored.

I had to pull back just a little to breathe, and was satisfied at how dazed her eyes looked. “Dera,” I rasped, unsure what I meant, plea, declaration, or demand.

Her eyes focusing on me, to my relief she grinned and said, “Anders.”

“I... want to thank you again, before we approach the tower here. You don't have to fight for the mages, and I don't know what we'll find in Cumberland or how Justice will react,” I said while rubbing her arms and looking down. “I don't want you to...”

Cupping and lifting my chin, Hawke looked me in the eyes to emphasize what she said, “I want you both to listen to me, and remember this well. I'm not going anywhere without you, and together we have more skills for this fight. You can't push me away again, so you're stuck with a partner you can trust who can't be affected by mana disruption.”

I had to smile then, and felt a glowing from within that almost made me feel jubilant.

Her face brightened too and leaning up, she kissed me long and sweet, adding, “And you should stop apologizing. Everything but the explosion itself is long forgiven, the rest will depend more on you not going off on your own again.”

“I can... we can do that,” I said between kisses and feeling giddy.

Her hands sliding under my armor to tease at my skin almost soon as I reached her flesh, Hawke laughed and said, “I thought this was what we'd be doing as soon as the door shut.”

“We'll have to make up for lost time then,” I murmured as I lit the lamps with a wave and just looked at my Champion for a moment. She bit her lip as she considered my new armor. Unbuckling my armor, such as it was, soon she ran her fingers through my chest hair. I finally got the last of her heavier armor up over her head.

I traced over her larger scars lightly because they always gave me a twinge. What if she'd died at Ostagar? What if the Arishok had killed her, despite all my spells? What if she'd turned away, any of the many times she should have? What if I only dreamed this?

But she shivered at my touch and pulled me closer for another kiss, her green eyes black now and fingernails scratching my back. I wanted to smile, but hunger was winning and kissing by her shining earring became a bite. Our attempts to divest each other of our armor as quickly as possible were never really very fast as I know I was so very distractable.

It was too bad she didn't wear robes, they were so much easier.

-- x --

In the morning I wasn't very happy to eat the barley porridge offered. We left the inn, and many were traveling toward the city, chattering about food prices and the doubtful rumor of a dragon in the Western Approach. Following among the others to enter the city seemed a good idea, and I used my spear as if for balance, staying a little ahead so Hawke and Merrill could watch me over discreetly.

Looking ahead of me, the Nevarran towers for their mages soared in the distance, supposedly gilded by Tylus, hero of the fourth Blight. I had my doubts that anyone who'd fought an archdemon would think that was a good idea. Most Ferelden Wardens were relentlessly pragmatic. Maybe it was the Orlesians and their love of uniforms.

Whatever had happened in the last few weeks, these towers looked intact and there was no talk in fear or vengeance. Did the mages here rise up like I hoped? No traveler mentioned anything and I was afraid we'd failed. Was all that blood on our hands futile, did I give up so much for nothing?

We discovered there was an open peasants' market outside the city walls, as large as any in Kirkwall had been. I slowed, as I knew Hawke had wanted snares and rope she hadn't seen since Kirkwall. I was looking around me more than at Hawke while she made her purchase, when I heard a voice call like starting a conversation.

“Ah, what a lovely flower of the Dalish, with leafy green eyes fit for a mossy spring. How many hearts are you the Keeper of? May I add one more?” spoke a lean and dark brunette who sounded like she was from Antiva.

Merrill sputtered when the woman caressed her buttocks, and I wanted to smile.

With a slight smirk the woman added in an edgier voice, “Perhaps you should have become a Keeper as Marethari desired?”

Hawke started turning, but Paws growled a warning bark before launching at a different man behind Hawke, who had daggers poised and about to strike.

Spinning, I looked for and found other attackers with their weapons out. I struck with my spear as Justice advised me.

I wasn't used to that, he usually approved, disapproved, or seized control to blast with magic when he got angry enough. I'd almost forgotten that he used a great sword when we met, after trying out other weapons the Warden had in the armory.

“Heysal, a grenade!” Hawke called as she knocked several down.

Wanting so badly to lay some of them out with a cone of cold, one of the tarry grenades would help slow them and satisfy my now angry spirit a little. Using grenades was still new to me, and a splash from the one I threw hit me too. I was slower than a soldier anyway so I had this as an excuse now.

It was a frenzy of stabbing with the end and blocking with my staff. I wanted so much to cast spells, but obeyed Justice's suggestion to sweep the barbed head of the spear point to make space for myself.

I wanted to look around and check on Hawke and Ser Mew, but I had to concentrate so much to even defend myself like this. I heard Hawke cry in pain, but couldn't see her with the two attacking me, even if I was holding my own.

Let me, mage, came quietly.

Worried that something had happened to Hawke, I wavered.

Let me, the Champion is a useful tool and the assassins came for us, came in a thundering rumble.

Don't reveal us! I warned as the spirit came forward more.

I was still present, hearing the comments of the spirit as he did most of the fighting. This was like when we fought Aldrik when he lent me strength and speed, but I was still free to observe while he fought. His understanding of weapon fighting made my lesser strength more effective, as he swung the tip like a scythe to rip through the throat of one attacker.

Turning my attention to the edges of what we could see and hear, I caught a glimpse of Paws hamstringing one of Merrill's attackers. I fancied I could hear Ser Mew hissing too. The elf was sending a stone fist at another one, but they'd already identified her by name. It looked like the non-combatants had fled or were hiding.

Hawke was dagger-fighting the woman who'd accosted Merrill, in a mutual maze of evasion. They were bloodied, but Hawke still looked fine, thank the Maker.

Something jarred my shoulders and I looked at what we were fighting. He was a bigger man, with a sword like Aveline's and all we were doing was defending against his sword and shield. I was getting worried as Merrill was still busy, but we couldn't stop blocking long enough to attack.

Paws leaped at him, striking him a little off balance even as the mabari was knocked aside by his shield. We swung and pushed the spear into the thug's stomach with all our weight. Paws ripped his throat out as we looked for another enemy and I regained control.

I had trouble pulling the spear out, but then went to help Merrill. Hawke's fight was moving too fast for me to help without my spells. Clubbing the last one attacking Merrill, I hit him several more times while he was stunned and then finished him with a grim smile.

Turning back to her fight, I saw that Hawke was bloody now, and Merrill sent another stone fist making the bitch from Antiva stumble. Hawke sent a dagger into her throat, and stumbled herself from a cut she'd gotten as she did.

Rushing over, I checked her injuries, hoping they were minor enough we could delay magical healing. I saw residue that she'd been poisoned, but she seemed fine now.

Merrill watched over us, wiping off Paws with a rag.

Aldera smiled weakly and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Puzzled, I paused in applying her bandages and said, “I am fine.” I realized that was a little terse, and added with a smile, “I don't know how long it will take to get this tar off my armor. Now, drink this.”

Making a face, she did. I checked on Paws and he had some shallow cuts. He also made a face when I tilted a potion for him to slurp. I wondered if Merrill would too if she was still injured.

Ser Mew was peeved when I let him out for a quick cuddle. He did not want back in the basket, so I slipped him up onto my shoulder, hoping Hawke would let it slide. He found the short braids in my hair fascinating.

As we'd bandaged, the rest of the market slowly came back to life. Merchants of the ruined stands started wailing and complaining about the damages. Some glared at us, but we weren't accosted. When we were done, Hawke finished paying for her purchase and took the cord from the startled merchant.

Subdued, we cleaned off at the elaborately carved marble public horse trough I'd spotted, I didn't think horses would care. Being wet was much better than bloody if we didn't want attention. With me walking ahead of them a little and carrying Ser Mew in my arm, Hawke and Merrill were arm in arm as we entered Cumberland without further incident.

I still remembered hearing about the wondrous Golden Tower of the mages in Cumberland when I was only a young boy in their prison. I was already heartbroken that my parents didn't really care, not like Hawke's had. I waited for months for a letter or anything, crying many tears into the pillow that had been shoved into the bag with extra clothing. I imagined I could smell my mother in it for years, until some ass pissed on it for spite. I cleaned that out eventually, and when the smell of urine was gone, I still could smell the herbs my mother used with her linens.

Not that I wanted to think through to the rational conclusion about cleaning the fabric, I'd rather have the scent.

I remembered so little about my parents' farm anymore. I remembered the winds blowing from the bleak plains, giving us our first warning of rain, or snow, or spring. I remembered hiding from my small chores up in the loft where these winds could reach me from far away places, but not the rain. I remembered dimly hearing before I slept or when we had visitors tales of the Gray Wardens and their battles against the darkspawn and dragons, riding griffins into battle. Weisshaupt was closer to me then. I remembered feeling free and without anyone who hated me, as far as my eyes could see.

At the last and at the most, I remembered fear and hatred there I could not understand, I could never understand. My mother had been so devout a believer in Andraste, so she believed I was cursed and had as good as helped destroy the Golden City in the Fade, so lifelong penitence while locked away was only right for her son. My father just plain hated me because I now had magic.

That hatred became somehow easier to accept over the years, but both hurt. I think I loved Leandra because she was so worried about Bethany before we left for the Deep Roads, and she'd acted on her fears. I caught the looks her daughters traded. They'd had enough run-ins with Templars that Leandra didn't know about. Still I was embarrassed for Hawke having to turn down Leandra's pleas in public, and neither of her daughters spoke much for a day or two of the expedition.

My parents never did write. Later as an adult, I wondered if they ever knew what tower I'd been shipped to. Kinloch hold was almost as far from my homeland as it could be. Even later as a Gray Warden, I wondered if they'd survived the sporadic darkspawn raids that never ended in the Anderfels. I'd never know and their son died when the Templars hauled him away, kicking and screaming. I was Anders now.

Hawke's Anders now.

Several of these Cumberland towers were golden, with a metal sheen that went beyond mere paint. Graceful jewel-like bridges between the golden towers soared well above street level like necklaces. Statues dotted alcoves in the towers, and I wondered who they'd been, to be honored in texture and shining detail. Seeing it, I could feel my jaw drop at the amount of gold needed, even with magical assistance for thin plating.

Hawke guided us to a less modest inn than last night for lunch. It was nearly empty this early, and she asked the serving wench about what they offered. I was simply enjoying one of the rare ales I was permitted, when I realized this really was a less modest tavern and getting less modest by the moment.

The wench had a skirt that somehow dropped in the back when she bent over to mop the table. That was unexpected enough that I choked on my drink. She smirked at me when she turned to leave, and I shook my head the tiniest bit, though I was biting my cheek to keep from grinning.

I was far less surprised when a male server brought our meal and sidled close to Hawke and Merrill and displayed his wares. They were very nice wares and I had to laugh when they noticed. As they couldn't speak for a few minutes, I flirted a little before sending him on his way, mentioning again we were looking for work.

“They might know more about work and the true state of the city, if we got one alone,” I told Hawke seriously, barely keeping a grin off my face. Maybe this was a little return for those visits to the Rose after we first met where she stayed later and sent me home to my clinic.

Disapproving rumbling came now as then. I stopped smiling at the reminder, as I remembered our many disagreements in those days.

A touch against my arm and I looked up to see that Hawke was standing up. She said carefully with a half-smile, “No work for me in here. Maybe you want to apply, Heysal?”

“You couldn't afford me if I did, Brana,” I said with a leer as I stood. To the Void with caution right now, I stepped over to bend her over for some hungry kisses. “But I'd be willing to barter...”

Others in the tavern were laughing at us, and Hawke flushed charmingly. We got a few offers as we left from some of the few customers and the one server. I laughed my way out, even if that got me a smack on my shoulder when we stepped outside.

Moving through the city, we couldn't avoid getting closer to the golden towers. I listened and watched with all my attention. Even the spirit was quiet as I sifted through all those speaking around me, for the tones of alarm and anger. Hawke would pause, seeking information but I didn't listen for that.

I hunted Templars.

There was another Warden or more in the city, but it was only a vague ache unless someone tainted was closer to me, so I dismissed it.

To my surprise, we passed directly into the cleared plaza of one of the golden towers and I looked up. There must be stone somewhere under the gleaming, glazed, and burnished tiles that seemed to transform into pure gold, ever so gradually as they rose above the ground.

“You must be from elsewhere,” a man spoke behind me in a cold, flat voice.

Convinced he was a Tranquil I spun around, feeling Hawke grab my arm as I did.

A merchant was lounging behind a sparse table of goods. He had fair hair and was missing a finger as he gestured to his table with a dark grin. “If you're here to get potions for the wars from the mages, you're much too late...”

Aldera gripped my elbow tightly and asked cheerfully, “Potions we can use, why are we late?”

I relaxed a little, he was bitter, not Tranquil.

“The battle has moved on already, we don't need any mercs now. Between 'em, the less useless of the nobles in the Van Markhans and the Pentaghasts got off their asses and acted to keep the peace.”

“Whoever won?” Merrill asked in her usual tones of wonder.

The merchant only grinned at us and stayed silent.

I looked around and realized there should be far more merchants to sell and buy in this square. The Golden Tower was known for its wealth, even more than for the shining towers.

“What kind of potions do you sell here?” Hawke asked with a sigh.

“Quality elfroot potions, and elixirs to revive your man's little warrior from the finest dwarven harvest in their dark thaigs,” he admitted in a leering singsong.

Hawke took out our spending purse, and visibly counted out coins. She bought several of the potions, and prodded, “Tell us more, Uncle Molty.”

“More money's flowing for working in Orlais or at Andoral's Reach on the border. I wouldn't suggest saying you're bound for to Orlais here, even if they have a deeper pocket. Not that I'd think a dog-lord would want to work for Orlais,” he said as he threw coins into a pouch without looking at them.

Hawke grinned and said confidingly, “Powder and perfume make my dog sneeze all over them. That makes for a very pissed employer and no pay to get home.”

Laughing at that, he admitted, “One of the Pentaghast commanders has reinforced the border. He's probably hiring, if you can get to Andoral's Reach. The Orlesians wanted to use our mage towers as an excuse to take back our lands, sending an army of soldiers and Templars over the border. You Fereldans are used to their shit, and the crown is paying well.”

Hawke looked tempted, but I asked, “What about potions?”

“Only simple ones, messere,” he said with a cheeky grin. “The towers are closed up like drums, as if they're under siege. Paranoid buggers.”

“Can Templars make potions?” Hawke asked. “I need the stronger potions until we can join a larger company.”

“Maybe they can, I wouldn't put it beyond the Pentaghast,” the snide man said slowly, drawing it out. “She lived up to her family legend and put down a dragon that came out of the Vimmarks. She even calmed down the mages after they expelled the Orlesian Templars with only a little prejudice, from what they claimed after they were outside.”

I felt my jaw drop, even as the rumbling inside me was triumphant.

Squeezing my elbow again, Hawke asked with fear, “Mages are free, what's to stop them from destroying Cumberland too?” She looked around the area like she was afraid waves of mages would drop down from the sky.

I widened my eyes, only partly as she was funny and laughing would give her away.

“Nevarran mages are good followers of the Chant. The best from the other towers come here to learn,” he said with pride, to my surprise. “The Seeker sealed the tower with her own seal, and even if any Orlesians make it this far, they cannot open her seal.”

Merrill asked with some worry, “Will they have enough food?”

“Plenty, since they only have a few sisters they trust. We'll run out of potions months before they even get hungry...” The merchant looked bitter for a moment.

Hawke pulled out one of the new potions and gave it to him. “Thanks for the tips, this is yours. The border sounds promising if we can get there before it's over. Can we get there by Imperial Highway?” She spent some more time learning the fastest road went through Orlais, and the next best path.

I didn't care about that and tried to spot any signs of life in the towers above us. They had no Templars but stayed in there without Templar oversight. I wasn't sure if they were being trusted somehow or so cowed they weren't a threat. I saw some movement high up in windows, curtains fluttering. There might have also been messenger birds being set free from the one window.

No Templars ruling them or abusing them now, nor likely from the sound of it. For the short term that was as much freedom as I could hope for. I should have realized other rivalries could also be a factor in earning our freedom. Orlesians and the Divine pissed off Ferelden and Nevarra. Would there be more divines than just white and black soon, or would the Divine accept the loss of worldly power?

I looked at Hawke, we needed privacy to make plans. She was getting a simple map to the Blasted Hills through Nevarra. I was getting uneasy, with how long we'd been standing here. We left the merchant as soon as she finished. A party on horseback wearing black Chantry armor swept past us as we made our way to the docks. Despite their comments about Templars leaving the city, none along the street seemed to react. We had to leave quickly.

Mid-afternoon we reached the docks and Hawke sought the Harbormaster. This one was busier and uncaring, he only gestured us to assistants who provided the contacts for ships bound to other ports on the Waking Sea. I was paying attention more to the docks than the ship or officer. More of those in the docks might have seen us clearly in Kirkwall.

After what seemed to be hours of meetings with many ships' officers and further guarded negotiations, we'd gained spacious accommodations on the bilge deck on an unfriendly fishing and smuggler ship. The shipmaster of the Reccon was hard to understand, his enunciation might have been due to lost teeth. He liked our money, but didn't really like having passengers or animals. Rare for most ships, he didn't mind Merrill. I thought that sealed the deal as far as Hawke was concerned. I didn't even get a good look at the ship in the late evening, but she stank of her cargo.

We were supposed to stay in our damp and stuffy space as long as any other ship or land was in sight. Pumping out the fetid bilge was necessary if we wanted to stay out of it. Even the first day, we could tell that being above decks was going to be very rare. I settled on the swash plate to play with Ser Mew once we'd pumped and I carefully dried the space a little. Both Hawke and Paws were having more trouble being locked in, trying to pace in the tiny space.

Hawke's restlessness was only helped a little when she had enough light to later study the chant or write in her journal. The journal helped more. I went through my letters and notes and thought Hawke might be more interested in them tomorrow. She might need those contacts if I got killed.

After dark, we were allowed out on the deck, and Hawke browbeat the young officer into letting her climb the mast and rigging. I was worried, but she didn't slip... much. Merrill spoke with one of the elven sailors, but they were curt and cold, far more than I'd seen an elf act. Aside from Fenris.

That night as we tried not to breathe in the fumes of our makeshift privy, I asked Hawke in a whisper, “Did you see that Seeker?”

“I guess, what marks one aside from armor?” she said, sounding tired.

“Templars fear their visits,” I said with a grin.

Hawke chuckled. “Well, if you'd told me that years ago, I would have studied their armor to copy it. I wonder if a squad of them would have shut up Meredith?”

That was an image to warm my soul, but still we quietly spoke about what we'd seen in Nevarra. As much as I would like to take the fight to the Divine and Knight-General, that would have to wait. I hoped more would fight, and that too many had revolted for a March to be called on all of them.

I caught Hawke falling asleep as I spoke and started telling her the proper ways to prepare elfroot for potions, to see if she was paying attention while I ran my fingers through her hair. She wasn't and soon enough was truly sleeping. It was too dark for me to watch her sleep, so I settled to sleep, content.

The third day since we boarded and we were practically shoved down into the hidden cabin when a ship was spotted near the ruins of the Imperial bridge. Our hiding hole was blacker than night and still stank, but we were told to be quiet when the hatch slammed shut.

Dera was in my arms to console me as we waited.

We could dimly hear loud voices getting excited and then the ship shook with some kind of impact. Soon there was more impacts and I could hear screams from injuries, and feel souls going into the Fade suddenly.

I was getting jittery because I couldn't fight or heal, and the rumblings within were becoming roars. Lacing my fingers through her hair, I held Ser Mew in my other hand.

Breathing a curse, Hawke caressed my cheek before she rolled over to the hatch. Another curse and she worked on the latch even as the hull shook every so often, and the deck threatened to tilt under us violently.

Risking a very pale light, I could see when one of her tools broke off into the door. Scanning the hole, she started pulling out all of her tools seeking something, but only rubbed her forehead, looking worried. Putting them away again, she began carving slivers off the jamb, but the wood must have been very hard by the thinness of the shavings.

The sounds of combat slowed, until there were fewer and fewer still fighting.

I was having more and more trouble keeping Justice down, but what combat spells I had, might drown us or choke us to death from smoke before breaking us free.

Merrill looked calm even as I thought she was mouthing prayers to the gods of her people. Paws moved over by Hawke, ready to spring as soon as the hatch opened.

By then, the only sounds above were strange and grim voices, and the moans of the injured. Those grew fewer as I felt more go into the Fade, and a silence fell.

My stomach sank when I recognized the next sound, the sound of fire igniting something large, like sails...

Chapter 16: Walking the Plank

Summary:

Being locked in a secret compartment is a real problem when the crew is losing, even for the former Champion.

-- The Waking Sea - aboard the Recon

Hawke:

This wasn't a big ship, almost all they had on board was fish, and we were in their contraband locker. So why take the ship? Were we the targets? I looked at Anders and Merrill as the fighting sounds got fewer.

We had so many enemies with ships to hunt us, and a huge bounty would multiply that. 'Who' would make for a long list. Templars? Warriors for the Chantry, or Orlesian navies in revenge of the Chantry? I'd never heard of darkspawn using ships. Maybe the Qun? Though the sword-hunter implied they weren't holding a grudge. That left Tevinter as the only powerful country not wanting our hides; I suspected they lost a lot of their slave hunters other than from us, so we weren't of that much interest.

Not the least of these threats was Sebastian, a sneaky bastard if he ever focused. He had to have been the author of that assassin attack in Cumberland, and there we left a trail, a small one I hoped. I could only pray he had other groups looking in other cities and they got in trouble too.

Mouthing the question, Wait or break out? I checked my daggers.

Merrill shrugged and bowed to me.

Anders looked up and waved his fingers and counted on his fingers to ten-ish. His count said they might be too many, if they were competent or any of another dozen factors like they were using grenades. They could pick us off as we came out, so we would hide and wait.

Figuring out what to do without a crew would come later. Too many people wanted us dead to trust. I refused to think on that.

Gesturing for silence like so many times before, I returned to undermining the latch area quietly.

Feeling a warmth on my back I turned and smiled at Anders. He'd knelt behind me and put his hand there, so not to distract. I wished we could hold each other.

Leaning back against him for a moment, I continued carving the hard wood, jamming my fingers and nicking my hands as I hurried. I'd pause if I heard speech even if it was muffled. It was all tense waiting and sore fingers.

I was listening and smelling for burning as I undercut the hatch's structure, but I smelled no smoke. This seemed to be taking forever. If it came to that, we would fight, but letting the attackers finish looting and go on their way was safer when we had so many enemies. Enemies who might be the ones moving around the ship with the occasional curse and thump of something heavy being moved. Letting them pass over us, or killing them all still leaves us with the problem of getting to shore. What they could be looting puzzled me.

The noises were closer, but Anders gestured with four fingers, and I relaxed a tiny bit.

Then I heard some piercing small shrieks.

My stomach sinking, Ser Mew had a rat that looked nearly as big as he was, and the rat had been trying to get in here with us through one of the water sluices, away from where I heard the searchers. Before I could even gesture I heard the tiniest crunch and the rat was dying. Ser Mew meowed very loudly with pride.

I froze and looked at Anders helplessly.

Anders' face had gone pasty-white, enough to be visible in the dimness. He looked panicked; he scooped his kitten up to encircle and muffle it.

Cupping his cheek, I mouthed that it was fine, and kissed his cheek. I had a terrible vision of him doing something horrible to prevent Templars from finding us by sound. He'd be heartbroken, even if his spirit thought it necessary.

I grabbed Paws' basket and pointed to it, so we could fight when they came. And remove any temptation from his spirit.

Even as we shifted, the silence outside went on far too long before some calls came from above. There was no doubt they heard something.

After a few minutes I heard knocking and the occasional call. I almost wished I was able to open the hatch, just to get it over with. When I looked at them, they looked ready, from Paws to Merrill.

Anders pulled me close, his staff-spear still in one fist as he held me.

The knocking got closer, and they eventually discovered the hatch. Those were definitely swear words, so it looked like the mechanism was just as annoying on that side too. Finally a slit of bright light came through the crack, and I had to blink against the glare.

“Get out here, you dogs... It'll be nice to see who was being smuggled out of Jader these days,” came from one male voice.

“Andraste's tits, they have one of those demon hounds!” one of the five men said when I walked out in the lead, trying to look harmless as I could in armor.

“Belay that, you fool. The First will be done with the inventory and back wondering what these guests have to offer for ransom.

Putting wobble in my voice, I suggested, “I'm the only one with relatives, and mine's not rich.” I felt nauseous, hoping we didn't look salable to slavers. I'd much rather we talk our way out of this.

“They look pretty enough, I'll take either human,” the third smacked his lips and said.

Leaning back against Anders, I worried. I really didn't want a situation where his spirit acted. Out at sea, we didn't really have to worry about witnesses, just getting safely to shore even if we had to give them equipment or money. Still, I'd kill them all before I'd let some things happen. Never again would I risk his sanity for long term strategy.

The first sailor punched the third in the arm, saying, “You'll lose your share if you even suggest this where the First can hear. You, with the pricy armor, does your relative have pull? That might do in place of money.”

Readying myself, I admitted, “Not exactly, my sister's a Gray Warden, no rank or pull there.”

“Piles of riches in those dwarven tunnels,” the second said while rubbing his hands.

“That might do,” the first one said with consideration, “At least we found the damn cat you heard.”

The third one was sent to bring the officer, and a tall, dark-haired, compelling man entered the hold to look at us doubtfully. Nothing more was said, and Anders waved his fingers a little, so our odds were not improving. Another set of boots came down the stairs.

I could only blink.

“Kitten? What are you...? Hawke! And the stick-in-the-mud, too... Maybe I shouldn't have bet on Tevinter at the Falls, but the odds were good and Glowy would have lots of things to blow up there...”

“Isabela!” I launched at her for a hug, glad to see her after four years.

“Captain Isabela,” she managed to say warningly, because Merrill hugged Isabela as well.

I caught a glimpse of Anders hanging back with a too-blank expression. After a moment, I heard a chuckle from Isabela just before a grope.

I yelped and moved back, only to see her grinning at me. The other sailors had already gone, even the last, silent one who left with a smirk tossed in Isabela's direction.

“Why didn't you send a letter at least? I worried that Castle-loon had killed you like that other agent of his tried. Or the Qun got you. I didn't even hear anything from about you and hoped you hadn't been sold, but I didn't have any idea where you'd gone to even look. I...” I knew I was about to start babbling...

“She nearly died a dozen times, run through and more, fighting the Arishok and his men because she wouldn't give you up to them,” Anders interrupted from behind me, sounding angry and close to Justice emerging.

Her face darkening, Isabela snarled back, “Looks like she didn't give you up either. Hawke never would have helped kill that many people. Only fools could think that.”

Anders got too silent with a weight that filled the air around us, so I interrupted. “But more than just fools do, Isabela, even after that many years working for Kirkwall.”

Stepping up against me to put an arm around me, Anders added with a tired voice, “For all my weaknesses, I was prepared to face the consequences of what I did. I made sure they knew I did it alone, and that Hawke was not to be blamed.”

“Doesn't look like that worked,” Isabela taunted him. “Hawke's blamed more than you. You're a mage, people expect you to be a blood mage with a demon army at your beck and call. You have that kind of power.”

Anders leaned against me, but Isabela continued in almost a hiss, “Look at you now! Did you think you were going to be the new Andraste, sent to free the mages by swinging your sweet ass to always get your way with Hawke as your puppet? That you'd lead some March of all the mages against the Chantry? When that wasn't enough, you decided you had to also play as the betrayer Maferath to satisfy your sense of drama? You greedy, stupid sot.”

I was worried about Anders and Justice staying calm, but I was getting angry too. Reaching back, I pulled both his shaking arms around me.

Taking a deep breath, I had a question I'd wanted to ask her for years, the one thing I never understood. I'd asked Anders essentially the same question weeks ago.

My stomach hurt with my renewed unease, but then I felt angrier and clenched my teeth. “Why didn't you come to me for help, Isabela? Why the fuck do you people think I won't help you when someone wants to hurt you? I want to help my friends. If I'm willing to work for people I hate if the mission itself will do some good, how could I balk at killing some asshole slaver for my friend's life?”

She paused in whatever she was going to say in a speechlessness I thought foreign to her.

I heard Paws whine beside me and I reached down to scratch his ears. He managed to lick my wrist as I did, which always made me smile.

Isabela spoke finally, “I've been the captain for a long time now. I decide for ship and crew, unless another is elected.

She'd been all about fun when I knew her, but she must be more serious out here on her own vessel. How much had I really known her on land? But this wasn't really an answer.

Now I wondered, “I wanted to hunt down Castillon if he was a slaver and just end your problem with an assassination if needed. You know Fenris would have helped with a slaver, he might have even smiled...”

I didn't get any laughs from anyone with that.

My stomach clenched, but I added, “Anders doesn't like slavery either, and you would have gotten a laugh at him and Fenris grumbling at each other. That Qun book was like stealing Andraste's own original prophecies. The Chantry would stop at nothing, especially if an enemy had a relic like that. The Qunari waited for years before acting. We could have done something else.”

“It was my book! I bled for it. I lost my sweet ship for it and almost every single member of my crew! They counted on me to get us profit, not swept away to die because those horn heads are that attached to things like everyone else, like us inferior cattle!” Isabela shouted.

Moving closer, I demanded, “And selling out Kirkwall, selling out all of us meant nothing to you? Like that would bring your crew back? Giving that ass Castillon what he wanted would fix it after he sent that shit to kill you? That's sucking up to ass-hole men, and I wouldn't have thought it of you... Captain! Good job, you've rewarded him for being an ass to you. Did he give you a handful of sovereigns too, when he gave you a ship?”

“I made a deal with him for that artifact. I finish my deals,” crossing her arms, Isabela's eyes were flashing with her anger.

“He's a slaver. He'd class you as worth selling if he thought he could get away with it. That makes him another prick to be killed, not catered to!” I glared at her, leaning closer.

Putting her hands on her hips, Isabela insisted, “I could take him, he thinks he can duel. I've killed weasels like him for many years before you ever left Ferelden, little girl.”

“That type isn't worth a duel, but a shiv in the alley behind a cheap tavern. I'd be glad to help you make it happen, just like any of my friends...”

“Like you helped the choir boy with his last problem?” she said while goating. “Like you went after so many murderers over the years? Do you have any idea what the count of the Kirkwall dead was? Do you even give a piss about all those people, Messere Champion? What's holding you back now, Hawke?”

I'd just touched the halts of my daggers and started shifting my weight, when I was tumbled like a log in a flooded river, ending up against the wall and squished closer against Isabela then ever before.

“I am,” Anders said with his voice so very flat as he pulled me up to a sitting position. “I started a war, even if I didn't want Hawke in it.”

“Isabela,” Merrill said with determination as she stepped closer. “Your path left years before the city became truly lost, a fowl with its head cut off, running around in circles, making a horrible mess on the rug. His actions, wise or not, were part of the weave of that cold and stony place. It became a tainted pool with a foul miasma. Templars and Circle mages drank of it and lost themselves as if they were infected by the Blight. We all helped fight against the madness, do not judge if you were not there at the end.”

Isabela looked at Merrill as if she'd grown another head.

I sighed and looked down at the floor as Anders dropped to brush my cheek with his hand. My cheeks were hot and wet with fading angry tears and growing embarrassment. To top it off, I started hiccuping and they stopped suddenly as I leaned against my mage, his warmth a comfort.

Not sure if the silence had become too weighted. I managed to say, “I'm sorry, Isabela. I'd been worried for so long when I didn't hear from you. I thought...”

I thought we were closer, that she trusted me more than this. That my friends trusted me like I trusted... But they didn't, did they? Putting my arms around myself, I took a deep breath. I'd just sound pathetic if I even mentioned that cache of things I'd set aside for her, hoping she's come back. Like I was bribing her, instead of hoping she'd return. All I wanted was an apology, but.

“I thought something had to have happened to you and I'd never know what. I'm glad you got your ship and you're fine,” I said, pressing my lips together as soon as I was done speaking. If I said more, I'd probably start a fight again.

“Are we friends still?” Merrill sadly asked what I was now afraid to.

Sighing, Isabela said, “We're still friends, Kitten. Hawke, too...”

A meow came from the basket riding on Paws. Anders opened the basket in a crooning rush.

“Like the other kitten,” Isabela said with a smirk, before waving at Anders with a frown. “He's not Sparklefingers anymore.” Seeing him fuss over the kitten, she looked a little surprised.

I wasn't going to interfere.

“What are you going to do with us, Captain?” Anders asked flatly.

“I haven't decided yet. What would you want, Hawke?” the captain asked.

Looking at the rest of my group, I admitted, “I'd like to exchange news and be left off on the southern side of the sea, near the Dale Lands if possible. We hope to find something for some elves there.”

Isabela's laughter sounded more forced than amused, “Nothing's changed has it? Aside from... all the people who want you dead.” Crossing her arms, Isabela asked, “What were you doing on The Recon, Hawke?”

“Sweating in the stink, mostly,” I said, miming how bad my clothing stank.

“You didn't have some sort of deal with that reptile captain with his very long tongue?” Isabela asked with a smirk.

Ignoring the innuendo, I said, “Of course I did, smuggling us away was not something for a passenger ship...” I stopped when something under her banter sank in. “No, we only met the ship the evening before we left Cumberland. Why?”

Her laughter was not amused, “You obviously did not learn much about some things while you were with Athenril's gang. The ships owned by Qun members or sympathizers, always have crappy names. They just have to use descriptive names for their people and ships. Not all their people have the horns or skin, some are humans or elves, and as blind to fun as anyone I've met. A ship named for reconnaissance, Hawke?” Her smile was smugly nasty.

Oh, shit. I wanted to beat my head against a wall, but Anders wrapped both arms around me. “I thought we were okay since the Qun... One of the Qun hired me to retrieve some of their blades after the battle.”

“Who knows with them? You're a bit west of Kirkwall right now, and even a fishing vessel knows the Dales are west of Cumberland,” Isabela said with a sneer of contempt on her lips.

Rubbing Anders' hands clutching my stomach, I had to wonder, “I don't think they knew Anders is a mage on the ship...”

“I don't want to know what happens to mages who 'submit to the Qun,' nothing good I think,” Anders admitted.

“Well, it may have been me then,” Merrill said sadly. “They answered all my questions about their boat...”

Isabela winced from what Merrill said.

“They had some plan before you set out, Kitten, as they didn't have anything written about you or their next port of call,” Isabela said with a frown.

I almost asked why she attacked the ship, but realized it was a stupid question. I was trying to remember if anyone had used one of their strange honorifics at me, but none had. We'd only used the new names for Anders and I. The Waking Sea wasn't that wide, where were we going?

I decided I could live without knowing any more about the Qun, I liked being able to change my lot. If they had their way, my father never would have had any children, and my sister and Anders would have no voices.

“Got anything to drink, Isabela? I think we'll need it for these tales,” I said as I rubbed my forehead again.

“No, Hawke. You'll have to suffer like my crew.” Isabela said gleefully.

“Got it.”

Rapidly, we were escorted over the gangplank to her new ship, The Sea Cockerels, which made Anders snort when he saw it. One of the younger sailors, an elf, started following Merrill with his eyes and she had a tinge of a blush for a moment.

We formally met her officers: the dark one was her first officer. The Second was the one that found us, and to our surprise an apostate who seemed part quartermaster, part healer.

Anders had trouble hiding his smug smile at Isabela, as she'd usually scoffed at his lectures. The Third had enlisted his help at collecting more water using ice spells before we'd eaten.

Over plain food and strong tea in the Captain's cabin, we exchanged tales, at least the generalities that evening. Isabela made her deals with Castle-loon and somehow got a ship. Since he wanted slaver profits I did not want to know more about their deal, but he was on my list for elimination someday if the chance arose for me.

I told her about those things we did to try to stem the tide between Orsino and Meredith. Bethany's kidnapping angered her. The gangs of Templars and blood mages only made her roll her eyes. The dragon swarms, the wardens, and the Crows. The apprentice who only wanted laid, made her laugh, and after a quip from Anders, they both had relaxed enough to trade suggestions for the boy's education.

Winding down, I had trouble starting about Sister Nightingale and her warnings for Elthina, dire enough I added to them with Vael's help. Anders' face was neutral, even when she looked at him. Then the fights and missions for Orsino and Meredith that ended with them arguing in the street again, and Orsino wanting to ask Elthina to break the deadlock.

Remembering the two factions in that small square, I couldn't continue after that, remembering everything all at once and in little scenes. Pulling me closer with my eyes shut, and Anders continued the tale in dry detail.

Only when my eyes opened did I realize he was glowing a bit, but he kept talking, through his expected execution, fighting our way in to prevent another annulment, and defending against the Templar push. The anger when we discovered Orsino certainly knew blood magic when the only ones for him to attack were us. Then the possessed Templar and finally Meredith and the statues that boomed the doom Meredith wanted for me.

I didn't feel as sorry for Orsino anymore since he dipped into Blood Magic but did nothing for his mages.

Her news was of battles and raids, mostly against Qun and Tevinter since they weren't liked. Orlesians for booty. I could agree they sounded as 'dreadfully exciting' as Merrill thought.

The First offered us his cabin and a hammock was to be slung up for Merrill.

But when they left, Isabela held my arm to keep me back, “Hawke...”

Letting Anders go ahead was the hardest thing in weeks, but I asked, “Yes.”

“You've changed, you almost look like you've been beaten, have you? You didn't say anything about where anyone else is. You don't even look right. I was mostly mad at him, dragging you into his mad March, and you don't deserve his death. Cut him loose, you and Merrill can stay here. It'll be fun,” Isabela pleaded.

Squeezing her arm, I smiled and said, “He's mostly right. You never saw my father, a proud and a good man, who only happened to be a mage. He aged too fast, from hiding all he was because of fear. Bethany stayed sweet, but she only had the choice between losing herself in the tower and having so very few chances to be herself. She's much prettier and should have had the chance to marry and have a garden of kids if she wanted to. Circle mages can't, they often suicide. Apostates usually don't, most are caught like Anders. I'd bet most of those were because he didn't know enough about the outside to not stick out. She's in the wardens, but, they can't have families either. Tranquil don't have anything.”

“My sister should have been able to just have a normal life as long as she doesn't harm others, isn't that what the Chant actually says? But she had to hide so much. Mother thought she'd have grandchildren by now...”

“What? Haven't you been trying hard enough with Sparklefingers? There's a few positions that might help, from what I heard,” Isabela said with a leer. “I'd be happy to help.”

I could feel myself flush, as I realized how close together we were without my noticing. “N..no, thanks, we're fine.” Seizing on the topic again, I admitted, “Anders is right, even if I sorely wish he'd had better timing and done no harm to innocents in his attack. It had been a slow war of attrition, and the mages are supposed to just take it because someone has authority over them. A battered child is not right, even if the parents are responsible for their care.”

Shaking her head, “You're insane too, Hawke. I could wish you're parroting, but your arguments are less repetitive than all justice and the oppression and the Templar bogey man. So...”

With that she kissed me. I froze, and jumped back, saying after I was several feet away, “Isabela, you know I prefer men.”

She started to pout, and suggested, “It's not like I haven't bedded him. It'll be great.”

I hurriedly added, trying not to babble, “That's fine, I'm sure it would be memorable, but we'll be fine.”

Isabela snickered, “That is an amazing shade of pink, Hawke, I wonder how far... I will have to ask him won't I?

My mouth stopped working, and I wondered if I could flee without being rude.

“Don't worry, Hawke, this does make it pretty sure blood magic isn't making you say and do these arguments.” She was still grinning when I looked up, and she added, “Calm down. That you stammer as badly as ever, says magic's not forcing you to do whatever it takes to win the argument.”

“I didn't win that many arguments since you saw me last, unless it involved blood.”

There wasn't much to say at that point, so I found myself escorted to a small cabin. Swinging above to the side was Merrill. Anders had the bunk, and he helped me get settled in his arms where I felt safe.

It took another three days until we reached a marshy stretch of shore. It was fun at sea, like Isabela always told me, and I got more used to climbing the rigging like her. We exchanged more news about Varric and Aveline and the current and winds in the sea.

I might have found it fun in another life, but I wanted to feel grounded again and make a difference. This would be great if a life of pursuit was all I wanted.

If we have to tromp through Nine Riven Marshes to help, I'm willing to get muck in my boots. Still, I had a small pang when the ship's boat started moving back out into the sea and Merrill waved as long as they were identifiable.

We were alone in a strange coast, with no road in sight. Joy and raptures.

Chapter 17: As Wild Geese Fly

Summary:

Hawke, Anders, and Merrill make landfall in the hinterland that once was the Dales. But with only a colonial rulership, bad elements have free reign. Or, there's ass to kick before too long.

-- The Dale Lands - Nine Riven Marshes

Anders:

Hawke's shoulders had sagged as soon as the sailors started rowing Isabela back towards her ship. I stepped close to hold her close, wishing I could soften this.

I'd been worried about restraining Justice and so relieved when I learned who had captured us, despite the years. I'd known Hawke had been restless for months after we fought the Arishok, with her wondering about the pirate. She got worse the longer it had gone since we'd heard from Isabela, but she stopped saying anything a couple of years after that battle, even to me.

Long used to losing people without warning, from the Circle Tower, from the Vigil, Karl... I had not realized Hawke hadn't lost people she cared about, other than to death. After her confrontation with Isabela, she was very quiet for the rest of our voyage. She talked, joked, and even climbed the rigging, but her eyes didn't smile as much. She wept in the dark in my arms that first night.

The next evening we were enjoying some chilled tea with Isabela and her quartermaster after we ate. Marris seemed to regard me with a mix of admiration and a greater portion of fear. He'd been picked up while manacled on a captured ship, and made himself useful enough that he joined the crew years ago.

I knew Isabela didn't mind mages while she was on shore, but this was the first time there'd been any sign she'd listened to me at all. They were all wanted outlaws, so it wasn't that different, was it? If I'd found a ship like this, would the Templars have ever found me? Or the Warden Commander? It would have been a good life in its way.

How many lives did you affect directly or indirectly in Amaranthine? How many in Kirkwall? That life would have wasted your talents, mage.

-But I would have had a life.

And all the Karls would continue in their secret places. The Chantry gave them the power, and feeds them lyrium if they fail to be brutal enough. The Chantry will not deal with Justice, so now must deal with Vengeance!

-That Chantry is rubble. The tower in Cumberland is without its Templars now. We owe and we should repay before we lose our life.

I wasn't quite sure why he went from rational to angry so fast but he was silent after that, and I realized the others were talking about ships.

“What was the ship's name before, Captain?” Marris wondered. “I joined the crew a few months after the naming, I think.”

“Oh, something boring, like Pride of Orlais or Jewels of Carastes. But we voted on the name after we took the ship and split to crew both ships,” Isabela said with a smirk at her quartermaster.

Hawke grinned, “Oh, that could be a long list, couldn't it? How did you manage to choose this one? I could see The Outlaw, The Boasting Amy, maybe even The Busy Studs...”

Isabela laughed, “The Studs would be a good one. We had dozens on the list, but finally got it down to five when the crew voted. The Slayer of Diplomats was favored by my First, they're not good for much, are they Hawke?”

Dera snorted at that and toasted Isabela ruefully.

“Another contender was Nathan's Fetish, and that was popular with my first quartermaster,” Isabela drawled.

I had to laugh at that. I wasn't sure if she'd met that Gray Warden, but I could just imagine his sour expression if Howe heard about it.

“Why would you name it that?” Merrill wondered. “Wouldn't Nathan want to keep that secret like Anders...”

Grabbing her arm, Hawke hushed her, saying, “I'd rather you not finish that. There probably wasn't anyone named Nathan in the crew, just a joke.”

Chuckling, Isabela agreed, “Yes, and could you imagine the fun if some Harbormaster was actually named Nathan? One of the ones I suggested was The Generous Apostitute. I never did get around to writing that one with Varric, I can't remember if I'd even told him...”

My face warmed as their humor would more likely cast me in that kind of thing for their stories, more than Bethany or Merrill. Hawke edged closer on the bench and leaned against me.

“Hmm, and the last one...” Isabela said, pretending to be trying to remember. The wicked gleam in her eyes said she hadn't forgotten. “Why, I do believe the last one was The Champion's Disease, but you'd know more about that, Anders. She spent so much time in your clinic for years, I was sure she only went to the Rose to have an excuse to visit you.”

Hawke hadn't ever asked for that, but my face warmed and Hawke stiffened. Marris laughed and Merrill smiled.

I admitted, “No, unlike you, she never visited me for that.”

“Hmm...” Isabela said smugly. “Never too late. I could use some private time with fresh meat and sweet-cakes.”

“You can have all the private time you want with roast nug that you want, but I'm afraid not for me,” Hawke said while rolling her eyes.

My answer was that I pulled Dera into my lap.

“Kitten? Don't leave me all forlorn,” Isabela laughed.

“Why would I do that, Captain?” Merrill smiled not as innocently at the Rivaini.

Marris smirked and held his hand out, palm up, but his Captain muttered something to him.

The nice thing was that we had our cabin to ourselves that night.

After the ship reached a part of the coast that wasn't too close to any port, the ship put down an anchor. A long boat was lowered to the water, and a few sailors scrambled down, to row us to shore.

Hawke climbed down the rope ladder after Merrill to the long boat. Paws with Mew's basket were being slowly lowered in a sling,

Isabela elbowed me, and asked in a quiet voice, “What's with Hawke?”

“I broke up a fight that was about to get bloody, and you ask me?” I asked with gritted teeth.

“That still?” Isabela scoffed and then grinned. “I thought she might still be stiff from when I planted one on her.”

I knew I did a double take, but I had to look at her to see if she was fooling me. Not that I was going to be diverted. “No, when she gets angry enough, she will fight until she wins or would die trying. Then she gets careless, and she was about to step over that line.”

Doubtful, Isabela shook her head. “She doesn't fight like that, that's for Man-hands or Broody.”

“Do you see them with us? She's had to, because some fights they weren't there. Some fights she had worse injuries than the rest of us put together. Some fights she stops thinking.” I sighed, as Hawke's fighting style wasn't the problem, “She was still putting aside extra daggers and exotic necklaces, though she didn't say why. They weren't to her taste, and she saved them for years. We had to sell them when we left Kirkwall. So why would she do that?”

“You'd gotten boring in be...” Isabela cooed.

I interrupted her, biting my words. “Fine, she's angry enough with me to take it out on you. Like she always does. You are so clever, Captain. Excuse me, I think I'd rather get another broken nose from Hawke.”

When I stepped over to look over the rail, Paws barked as soon as he reached the boat safely. Once the net being used as a sling was off, he licked Dera. I know I smiled to hear her laugh carry up to me. Looking back, I saw Isabela was scowling a bit.

I forced my shoulders to relax and called down, “Hawke, catch me! I'm leaping!”

Hawke looked up, alarmed, but laughed when she saw I was only waving down at her. I scrambled down the rope ladder easily enough, but I was surprised when Isabela came down too.

The rest was cheerful enough, with four sailors rowing the long boat to Isabela's bawdy commands and comments. Our goodbyes were cheerful, but Merrill blushed from the catcalls as they rowed away.

I was simply glad to have solid ground under my feet again. Templars may not hunt for mages at sea, but we had fewer options to run or hide. Isabela had no real maps of the land, only excellent ones of the sea, so we only had a general idea of where we were. The old Imperial causeway that had once been a wonder of a bridge wasn't far to the west. Halamshiral and Lydes somewhere to the south, along with a long stretch of Imperial Highway. We were now in what had once been the Dales.

Any Dalish here probably would not mind that much what I'd done, but from what I knew, the Chantry and of course Orlais had claimed much of the land after the March here. Hawke was hoping we could find another of their wandering clans.

“Well, more muck and ooze to fill my boots,” I grumbled as I looked around us. My one foot was already sinking into some mud, so I stepped back a little to ground I hoped was less... squishy. My staff wasn't much help as it sank into the mud faster than my feet.

“Oh, it's not so bad, Ander... oh, my. Heysal, most of it will rinse off, though toes do help slow sliding in mud. It makes the oddest sounds sometimes, so very distracting when a number of us fall into a fast walking pace. Dirt is such a more restful thing to walk upon,” Merrill said while running a bit of the mud between her thumb and fingers.

Hawke was smiling and asked, “Could you lead us, to the south and higher ground? I'd rather sleep on drier ground tonight.”

“Please do,” I agreed as Merrill started off. Once we weren't visible from the shore, I asked Hawke, “What was this about Isabela snogging you the other day?”

Flushing, Hawke stuttered as she walked, “Oh... th..that. Wasn't my idea, really. Really. Usually she settled for only flirting before.”

“What, you didn't enjoy it, my love? She is very good, isn't she? Or were you planning to keep her on the side?” I said as I used my spear to help stop my slide through the muck.

“No,” she said briefly, her voice too flat.

Sliding over until I was next to her, I held her arm so she swung towards me. Hawke's face was pale and her lips pressed flat, but her eyes were huge and almost the same color as the plants around us.

“Hawke...” I said as I pulled her close. I didn't know what else to say, so I told her, “I'm not jealous, love. I've known Isabela longer than you. And you are... very kissable.”

My spear hitting with a wet smack was only a noise while we kissed. I was a little distracted or my boot slid, and we landed on the mucky ground. We scrambled back to our feet while Paws barked at us; Hawke understood them better.

A complaint from Ser Mew, and I brought him out to ride on my pack, and we made slow if steady progress

By evening Merrill found an island in the swamp for us to camp on. We actually had a fair amount of preserved food scavenged from The Recon, though not the tastiest. There even was a small spring, where I was more than glad to wash the now mostly dried mud off me. Not enough to truly bathe, but I felt better. I played with Ser Mew while Hawke studied.

The next day as we walked through the mud again, I carried my kitten even if I needed my staff for walking sometimes. I was a bit embarrassed when Merrill warned me I was about to walk into something.

We'd been mostly silent all day when Hawke asked, “Merrill, why are they called Keepers? I mean I don't think your people would keep an awful lot, the way you travel.”

Merrill seemed to gather her thoughts and answered, “They keep everything that is important to our people, knowledge of the land and our beliefs, history, and wisdom. But those things sometimes may be lost, because above all else, they keep their people safe. They are our protection from outside threats like shemlen and lycanthropes. Keepers protect us from each other, our angry youth and our foolish elders.”

“I'm sorry to ask now, but...” Hawke started to apologize.

“No, this is the proper time, as any Keepers we meet will not owe Asha'bellanar, so it is wiser to understand if you can from what I can explain like this,” Merrill explained woefully.

Stopping, Hawke said, “We're just idiot shemlen, got it. I hope you know what you're planning to ask once we find them. I can play a dumb bodyguard, can't be any worse than pretending I was interested in what the ball-less wonders in Hightown had to say.”

“But your Keeper was a mage, and one who trained others, correct?” I asked. “You didn't say anything about that in your description.”

Merrill sighed and admitted, “They keep those of us with magic in our blood safe from ourselves. We are connected to each other as we work magic together long enough. You saw only blood magic, but we... usually share blood by birth and always from the various occasions and ceremonies of living. My Keeper tried to keep me safe, maybe we spoke different languages by the end. That connection helps protect the clan

“Our mages are not separated from their people, how could they protect and guide the people who need them? Once we all had magic and felt those sweet streams, or had a loved one who did. That is what the Marches took away, above even our land, our history, or our language, they took away so many who should have been Keepers. They took so many with the gift and the old knowledge, that we lost so much, nearly everything,” Merrill hugged herself, looking lost, despite her more usual cheerfulness.

“So the Keepers hold the leash on your mages, and they have blood magic to enforce their will...” I noted, trying to stay calm. Why did every people have to do this?

Hawke slipped an arm around my back, and I took some comfort in doing the same to her.

“No, that kind of control is only for when they are still learning their magic,” the elf objected.

“But it never ends does it? Is that why Marethari kept at you?” I had to wonder.

“No, she cared for me, even if she never understood.”

I could feel Justice begin to manifest. Not quite, but so close to it. “But she had your blood, and she could have forced you, especially when she accepted that pride demon. They are the worst of the lot, encouraging her that she could handle it. A Pride demon with blood connection to how many elves and their Keepers.”

Hawk's laugh was not merry. “No wonder they still won't leave that mountain. They are sure they are fine, no matter what you say, Merrill. We don't know how long that Pride demon was there corrupting the elves that lived so close.”

“It wanted you back as well, Merrill. You were sure that mirror was the only way.” I had to take a deep breath. “That demon sought you more than her. She was only bait, like any Templar trap using their prisoners.”

With one last quick squeeze, Hawke went over to her. “Merrill, we're going to find others, somehow.” Dera looked frustrated, and then put an arm around Merrill carefully.

“I shouldn't have left them...” the elf said almost angrily, even if her eyes shone.

I started to say something, but Hawke glared at me and interrupted, “They choose not to listen to you. They would have slaughtered you, if you had defeated the demon alone. We can only try to fix the future, not what-ifs.”

“Then we simply must find another elder who can speak the wise words they must hear,” Merrill said more confidently.

Our second campsite was much enlivened by finding giant spiders, and I felt no reason not to cast spells. I felt so good to be casting again, as if I'd been starving, unable to openly cast magic. Hawke was bloody by the time the last has been broken enough to die. She was more worried about Paws though. Hawke then wanted to use one of our combustion grenades to clear a space to sleep, but was convinced about the lack of replaqcements.

My rest was uneasy with the remains of layers of webs all around us, but at least the dense webbing blocked any cold breeze. Hawke had nightmares, bad ones this time, even if I held her. She wouldn't tell me what they were, and jerked away when she first woke, bringing me back to when we left Kirkwall. After a time, she would reach out and touch... hold me again in the dark, but it felt like hours and years before she did. I could only thank the Maker that this now happened only weekly.

A few more days, and we reached the stretch of Imperial Highway we'd been seeking.

“Which way now?” Hawke wondered.

“My people would not cling to these roads, lethallan. The halla don't,” Merrill said with a small smile.

I suggested with some nudging from within, “We could use some news, before we go further south.”

Nodding, Hawke agreed, “Supplies, and then we strike out to the south.”

We hadn't walked even an hour, before Paws' growl was suddenly echoed by Ser Mew's claws digging into my shoulder. A large net sprung up from the stone railing. I was at the edge of it and only hampered by the net and weights. Merrill was in the middle.

Shouts came from the sides and road as Hawke charged her nearest opponent.

I was untangling my spear from the net, even as the number of attackers clambering over the side sank in. Too many, as they were already trying to corner Hawke.

Merrill was still under the net and a little hampered, but the net became part of the vines growing out of the earth around her. It was Hawke and her mabari at risk... and she already had gathered most of those attacking as the only one not in the net at all.

I started to cast to enhance my connection to the Fade, as each spell would be far more draining than usual with this armor. It felt good to let loose with an ice spell next.

The last few enemies brought manacles and chains...

My spirit's angry bellow nearly swamped my concentration. One glance and I saw a several pale and worn elves were bound to long chains with manacles; that they let the heavy chain drop with clinks and clanks that seemed to echo. They were not fighting, but the last onto the roadbed was, and he wore the nearly pristine robes of a Magister.

He smiled, even as he brushed his robes, looking at all of us, as much a user as Alrik had been. He positively leered at Merrill but a vile glee showed for all of us.

Even as Justice roared into control, I shouted, “Hawke, slaver!” and began to cast the slow magic to hold him. I could feel lightning striking all around us.

“My, my. The missing Champion here, where there is no Tower. I will just have to revise your value on the market...” He finished his spell first, and Dera was in a shrinking cage of energy. Her shriek of pain pierced my heart, but we had to use a small force spell to force my attackers away.

I was attacked again by tougher ones, one woman had her flesh putrefying as I looked.

-Let me heal Dera! I demanded.

There are too many, these foul mortals will pay! As we cast more spells of ice and my only fire spell.

A faint cry from Dera and she leaped back out of my sight, as I kept hitting the other mage. His fire spell hurt even his agents, but I wasn't going to care.

What I did care about was when I was encased in ice, as a warrior with a hammer swung towards me.

I didn't see much the next seconds, only when Hawke appeared behind the Magister, her knives not quite long enough to go all the way through.

In horror, I saw his blood swirling up even as I could feel the heat and numbness as I was pounded by a mountain, and even Justice's raging didn't let me move yet through the ice.

Dera tumbled around the other mage as we finally had the freedom to act again, and we took the time to paralyze all those near myself and Merrill. I didn't agree, but my shouting at my spirit didn't even break our concentration.

All I could see out of the corner of my eyes was blood swirling from Hawke's injuries and her contorted face. A piercing shout and the Magister's neck was severed and she launched into those attacking me. Most of them were frozen for a moment, and they didn't last long after that.

When I took back control, the extra energy from the spirit faded, and I dropped to my knees, exhausted almost beyond my ability to breathe. My vision grayed, but I realized I had a vial at my mouth and I was sure I wasn't thirsty.

People kept bothering me when all I really wanted was a nap in warm sunshine. Why did others think some booze would solve my being exhausted? I had enough to do, with counting my breathing and trying to decide if I'd pulled any muscles this time... Too much noise, no wonder the Dalish wandered in those land-ships, only wind snapping the cloth. Those would be so much more peaceful to travel in. I was still getting poked, but I could ignore that.

Anders, drink it.

-I'm not thirsty. Don't wanna drink.

Rumblings from inside me said I was and was not ready to lay down.

Anders, drink it. You're too tired.

-Am not.

Yes, you... His answer was stifled as the geese were honking, flying north for the winter.

Which was too bad, they were graceful, flying far above with their honks faintly reaching me through narrow windows, speaking of lands far away. Watching them fly would have been more fun than staring at the road bed. I was watching an ant cross one of the pale gray cobblestones.

Suddenly my nose was pinched, and when I opened my mouth to breathe my jaw was forced down. Panicking, I started to thrash, but I was being held by ogres and had to gulp it.

Trying to free my arms, stand or something, I caught soft flesh for an instant, and then I recognized the flavor of the potion and relaxed a little.

I relaxed more when Dera started speaking, “Look up. Say something. Justice, you say something...”

Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I said, “Yes, love? I need to rest before I can be very wry, you'll have to settle for my wheaty buns...”

Hugging me tightly, Hawke groaned at my unoriginal sally, “I'm not up for a rebuttal to that. Can you do some bandaging?”

When I could focus, I realized she was only holding me close with one arm. Her armor was soaked in places. With shaking hands I pulled bandages off and started cleaning and bandaging, first her and then I'd get to everyone still alive.

Merrill was speaking with the manacled elves, and I could tell Justice was unhappy about them. They were speaking partly in the elven language, so I only caught a few phrases, about their clans.

When I checked Paws, he was fine as were Ser Mew and Merrill. The other elves edged away from me when I moved over to examine them. Merrill said something and the fair one straightened up.

Checking on Hawke, she was looting the slavers' bodies and dragged them over and dropped them off the road. So I returned to my bandaging and light healing now.

We rescued four elves and most of their injuries were what seemed typical: beatings, floggings, small cuts, blisters, and sores from the manacles. I couldn’t help the older injuries on the fair one, but the younger ones I could, as their hurts were not much older than scabbed.

Hawke came over to wave some keys on a ring and say, “I'd think we can get you out of those chains now. Do you have somewhere to go?”

The younger ones nodded, and raised their hands immediately, though the older woman was still looking at us suspiciously.

“Hawke...” Merrill started.

Grinning, I interrupted with, “One silver.”

Nodding, she continued, “Brana, one of our clans is only a few days' travel from here. Mionodir and Teain know the way back. But... two of their group had been left by these... collectors to rot. We should return them to their clan, as is right.”

Hawke's agreement was greeted with several quiet sighs of relief. I took a closer look, and I could see how young these elves were. It was hard to tell for sure, but the younger-looking ones were about the ages that new elf apprentices had been delivered to the tower. The youngest was the most lovely, even for an elf, and she was still afraid enough to keep the older one between herself and me.

I'd seen that all too often among the refugees in Kirkwall and tried to appear more bumbling and kitten loving. Ser Mew helped.

We left the road a bit sooner than I'd expected, to travel south a few miles into a small valley that grew a mass of elfroot. I spotted a few other useful herbs, but they were not as plentiful. Near the far edge of the valley, there was a scattered campsite, and two bodies already beginning to rot a little. Hawke went back into the trees and collected a couple of saplings.

Finally, the dark-haired one spoke to us and he said, “I think our clan is about a week away, though I do not know if the Keeper will be willing to speak to a flat ears.”

“You can go on your own, if you can't be polite. Merrill was a First, doesn't that mean something to you?” Hawke said crossly as she wove the net through the saplings.

“It is all right, Brana,” Merrill said quietly.

Bristling, Dera said, “No, it's not. Rudeness like that is unacceptable. The Alienages suck enough, that people who lived there don't need his crap.”

“I do not live in the city. He is only a foolish boy who has probably shamed his teachers. He will have to learn better if he wishes to be a senior hunter,” chided Merrill.

“Merrill, could you introduce us? If we are traveling, names would be pleasant,” I tried to say lightly. “Or I could make up names, like Ser Grumps-a-lot for him.”

The youngest one giggled at that, but Grumpy scowled at everyone and growled, “Call me Hunter, shemlen.”

Hawke met my eyes, and she also looked like she wanted to laugh. It really was like this child trying to imitate Fenris.

“I'm Teain,” the auburn haired boy said. He wasn't quite as full of himself; it was almost refreshing.

The young girl admitted, “My name is Iana, and she is Ker.”

“Nice to meet you, You should call me Brana, and call him Heysal,” Hawke said while waving at me. “Now we need to get moving.”

We tied the bodies on the litter, bundling herbs and the elves took turns carrying it, talking to each other quietly. They were plainly mourning, even Merrill.

It did take a few days for them to lead us to a clan camp. It was so much more active and bustling than I'd ever seen. Well, something must have been wrong there ever since my first visit, even if I hadn't known any better.

Cries greeted our arrival and the bodies were swiftly taken away. Hawke, myself, and even Paws were watched with suspicion and wariness. The outer guard that met us escorted us to a place away from the central part of the camp, even Merrill. Those we'd rescued departed as soon as they were greeted, leaving us not much more to do but look around or talk quietly.

Dera and I sat together.

“So what is one of the People, one trained for leadership yet, doing following a shemlen mercenary?” an older female elf asked us, her voice as harsh as my spirit's could be.

Chapter 18: Through Bush, Through Briar...

Summary:

Petitioning a Dalish clan for help with another is not simple for a Dalish pariah, accompanied by two human pariahs.

-- The Dale Lands - Qavirren clan camp

Aldera:

Shouldn't I feel safer from those who hunted us here among the Dalish? They had no love for the Chantry or Templars. Aside from mudstains, we looked presentable and I hoped not like maddened humans as we followed some Dalish to the edge of their camp. Merrill looked solemn. Anders was quiet.

Still, these Dalish seemed very different than the elves on Sundermount. Most there ignored or threatened us when we came out Kirkwall. I'd never seen more than a dozen or so, but now I saw that clans might be larger. Here, the elves we'd rescued were younger, and I'd seen many more adults in the camp, working busily. Maybe they were pretended to work, since I saw no youth aside from those we'd brought here.

They seemed more... something. More alive? More vibrant? I wasn't sure as both camps were quiet.

The sun shifted and we remained isolated. The elves were armed and looked a familiar kind of wary, pointedly and coldly ignoring even Merrill. I was worried.

Anders leaned close and said wryly, “Perhaps I should have mentioned earlier that Dalish Keepers are all crazy. They think I'd would look better with a muzzle.”

My stomach turned over, but I said, “Shush. Or is Justice getting restless?”

“No, he approves killing slavers. He's quiet...” Anders said while taking my left hand and nervously tracing along my leather seams. “There are no Chantry or Templars here to anger him.”

Clasping his hand with mine, I smiled at him and Anders' mouth finally twitched into a tiny smile. Paws rolled for a belly rub, and I obliged as I wanted us to look harmless.

No one bought the act and warmed up, not even when Mew jumped from Anders' shoulder onto Paws. My mabari rolled over and just met my eyes, looking betrayed. Ser Mew climbed to the top of Paws again and mewed in triumph.

Merrill chuckled, the first sound she'd made since we settled to wait.

“Merrill, are you okay?” I asked while scratching Paws' ears.

“I am fine, Hawke. The Keeper or the First may be too busy to speak with us for a time,” she said as if she was trying to convince herself.

“If we have to wait long, I'll pitch our tent and we'll... take a nap,” I said.

Merrill didn't look sure if I was joking, but Anders chuckled.

Feeling restless, I looked for escape routes and danger potential in our guards. Being near the edge of the camp, I thought if we simply walked away now, we would have little problem. But Merrill needed help.

The youth we rescued must be reporting while elders decided if we were worth talking to. Hunter and Ker didn't like us humans. I couldn't blame them for distrusting us, but I will not accept guilt for things I'd never done. That's the same as still blaming all mages for the Black City or Tevinter. I'd done enough that haunted my dreams.

I didn't want to remember how drained Anders was after that fight with those slavers, not even a spark left. Skin clammy, even his breathing seemed to be taking far too long each time. I was holding my breath, waiting for his to stop and started to panic. I didn't think he'd been hurt.

“He may not be injured, lethallan, merely exhausted,” Merrill suggested.

Placing my fingers against his too-pale cheek, I muttered, “He's never been this tired before. Could he just stop breathing?”

She pulled a flask out. “He has never cast as many spells in such armor either.”

That made my throat hurt, this armor was the only disguise he could live with. I failed yet again. I should have fought harder, so that he wouldn't need to drain himself.

Anders wouldn't drink from the vial, making a face that would have been funnier if I wasn't so afraid. Soon he didn't even do that, only tiny motions in his eyes and clenched frown said he wasn't completely unconscious. He wouldn't drink, void blast him.

“You do this, Hawke. He was better when you tried. Pinch his nose,” Merrill said with a small smile.

It had been a very long time since I had to do that for Carver. I don't know if he ever forgave me, but my brother had taken a good chomp at my fingers. Anders didn't quite get me, and soon he grew alert again.

Reaching this camp took considerably longer than our travel to the Dalish camp on Sundermount, but I doubted any Templar hunters would find us easily. I settled into a fake doze as we waited, watching through slitted eyes. Anders played with Mew.

Late afternoon two elves came over to us, one female and male. The older female ignored Anders and I when she angrily asked Merrill, “Why do you bow to them?”

Merrill flushed and objected, “Hawke is my friend...”

“Shemlen are not our friends. You have forgotten what you were, you who were once First. Forgotten what the shem have cost all of the People in their foolishness. You have forgotten what you swore before your clan. You were the Dalish. You were Keeper of the lost lore and walker of the lonely path. And worst of all, you submitted to the shemlen.”

I didn't know what to say, but I was getting angry. If I argued, that would confirm her tirade.

Wilting a little, Merrill respectfully said, “Keeper.”

“You follow a shem as if she was Keeper. You might as well wear their clothing and live in a prison with the other flat ears.”

I wanted to smack this Keeper so much I was shaking, but Anders pinched me and I took a deep breath. Merrill meant well. Then I let my arm slide down Anders' side a little, ready to spring if this turned uglier. After a moment, his tense arm slid down too, even if he still touched me.

Much of their next speech I could not understand, but Merrill accepted what sounded like criticism. The Eluvian was mentioned, as well as halla, the demon, and Marethari; Merrill was shamefaced as she spoke.

“You left your clan and turned your back on your people,” the old witch said, making sure we could understand. “To be a human's mercenary, instead of becoming Keeper after Marethari as the clans' wisdom decided,” she spat out.

Standing upright now, Merrill cried with a little fire, “One cannot lead if your people do not accept your wisdom. I was not First long before the halla died. They would not accept judgment well before the humans arrived with their charge from Asha'bellanar.”

“T hen what was the reason, child?” the Keeper asked. “Why were you shunned?”

“Because I sought to understand and restore some of the old knowledge, ways Keeper Marethari did not approve,” Merrill insisted more firmly. “My actions did not put the clan at risk. Yet I have come in search of assistance for my clan, as they will not accept help from me.”

“And these shemlens, one named Brana or Hawke, or perhaps Champion?” the Keeper insisted with a glare at all of us. “Why did you not go to them?”

I tried not to wince. We weren't doing too good at staying secret, were we?

Anders pulled me closer with one arm. His eyes were nearly closed, but I didn't see any sign of his spirit, thank the Maker.

“They cannot provide what my clan needs. They could only help them learn to live in the cities, not remain of a free people,” Merrill added sadly. “Sabrae are lost and have no guide, whether halla or Keeper. I come to beg help for them before they are gone, and I do not believe they have much time.”

“Why do you need the quicklings' help? You need no help to travel the land, no help from them to rejoin your people. Why do they help 'dirty knife-ears?' Would they destroy our clan as other shem have tried? Like they did war upon their own city?”

I wasn't sure if I flinched at that or Anders had. Maybe it was both of us. I tried to will my flush away.

Merrill was getting calmer as the talk continued. “The Creators have willed that the challenges in restoring some of our past cannot be done by one in pride. They are my friends, Keeper.”

The Keeper was stern when she asked me, “That explains that Merrill might have found those not of the People for this. Why do you stay with her, or is she a convenient servant?”

Stumbling a little, I said, “She's never been a servant. I want to help her...” I swallowed and added in the face of the Keeper's cold stare, “I hope if Merrill has help she won't want to use blood magic as it scares me and I don't want her hurt.”

“Oh, no, Keeper, I was not a servant. I had a sweet, little home in the bone of the mountains, where I could study an Eluvian and work on fixing it,” Merrill said with a happy smile. “The others around me had a hahren already and such a lovely tree, so if I did not travel, I rarely needed to go out. I got horribly lost in all the open-air stone tunnels there for a time. Sometimes I wondered if the old quicklings decided to build their streets modeled upon a rabbit warren. Still, the rock does not grow very many green things, no soil. I watered Hawke's plants a few times. The poor things kept dying over and over as she was so bad at it. The poor, little, things would whither and sit there for weeks or months until they turned brown enough for them to be noticed. Then Orana or Bodahn learned how to do the watering.”

Seeing one of Merrill's wandering speeches bemuse the Keeper was the funniest thing I'd seen all day. So it wasn't just humans who got confused by her rambling.

“I will think on this,” the Keeper spoke almost regally before leaving.

We were escorted away and fed, though I wasn't hungry again. Merrill and our furrier friends were the only ones who ate much. These weren't the aravels I saw at Sundermount, but two tents.

The elves began to leave, with only the hunters guarding us still nearby. I was tired of being watched, and Anders was too still and quiet. the longer we waited like this. Merrill had one tent. Paws and Mew came with us, so it was a little crowded in ours.

Kneeling, I'd just finished piling our padding and armor in one corner of the low tent when Anders nuzzled my neck and sucked at my earring. I usually forgot it was there, but he didn't. I turned to face him, feeling a little cooler without my armor and padding. While I was used to my sets of armor over the years, he was so happy to be free of his. He didn't babble complaints at me anymore, but he was so eager and excited to move freely again that he pulled me with him onto the blankets whispering words that floated away before I really heard them.

Cupping his cheek in the dim light, I slid my fingers down his chest, tracing those scars that had been old when I first saw them.

Half-hum, half moan, and all loud, Anders pulled me tightly against him, quickly enough my hand was trapped as we kissed.

Wriggling my hand out, so to put my arms around him, I whispered, “Shhh.”

His voice had a grin when he whispered back, “Not a chance. We're the savages, remember?”

“Anders,” I objected even though I was ambivalent. “Not with guards outside, it's creepy to have the hunters listening in.”

I could feel myself tense when I said it, but Anders only grumbled or maybe pouted as we settled in our blankets, our limbs intertwined. He almost absently caressed me until I slept.

Until later when I woke from a new nightmare of Carver dying.

-- x --

I could feel Justice become more restless when Hawke remembered our audience, but I reminded him these weren't templars. I wasn't as put off, but she was tense. I envied Hawke that she'd been sheltered from that lack of privacy.

She fell asleep quickly, with Paws and Mew settling closer. Mew had been exploring the edges of the new tent and decided to settle to sleep by my neck purring briefly. Paws as was usual, settled with his head on her foot. I probably wouldn't mind the mabari as much when it got cold in winter.

It was almost unbelievably quiet, even at the edge of the Dalish camp. I didn't need much sleep, so I listened and made plans, moving my fingers slowly through Hawke's hair until I slept too.

Hawke woke me not long before dawn, with a shriek that was cut off as soon as she woke, and I could feel her trembling all over. I spoke soothing murmurs, wishing I could make her nightmares go away, but I knew no way.

I should have like nightmares, thrice over. I felt a slight guilt that I didn't have the warden nightmares anymore like all the other wardens. I had them until Justice and I made our agreement, now I just slept. I didn't mind losing the nightmares of darkspawn and the Architect. I deserved nightmares about Rolan's death, Elthina's, and the heart-rending look at my betrayal on Hawke's face. I once hoped Justice would help against demons trying to tempt me, but I lost the pleasant dreams in the Fade too. I couldn't even dream about Dera those years after the Deep Roads when I wanted to.

“Love?” I asked quietly, smelling the dampness of her tears. “What is it?”

“Nothing quite real, a dream about Carver dying near Sundermount, but he died outside Lothering,” she mourned. “I never got to see him as a man...”

“The Fade is only a stepping stone after we die, and the Golden City remains, even if darker. He's with the Maker now.” I stroked her hair, trying to will her some peace.

She hiccuped, and looked up to give me a fierce hug, saying, “I know. Sometimes it just seems like yesterday he was griping, just yesterday my mother was excited about a suitor, and like only last week that my father swore me to protect my family...”

Hawke didn't say any more, but she didn't need to as I knew her doubts too well, even if I couldn't agree.

“Kirkwall was a dark place, love. Too much blood magic was done there through the ages. You cannot stop the tide, no matter what you hope.” I found I could smile with real thankfulness, and added, “At least Justice is quieter, far quieter now that we left Kirkwall.”

“He hasn't left or something, has he?”

“No, but he's not as wrathful,” I explained. “Sometimes he's more like he was in Ferelden.” Feeling a lightning rumble, I added, “Most of the time, though.”

“Good,” Hawke said as she rolled onto and pinned me for some kisses that finished waking me and made me buoyant despite her holding me in place.

A little fragment of me was reborn, as Dera was hesitant since Kirkwall. I was almost sure she loved me as we traveled to Cumberland. She didn't hold herself apart as I'd feared, but it wasn't the same. I wasn't completely sure she still wanted me; she'd been so passive in her affections. She didn't reject me, but... I worried since Kirkwall it was only a remnant, a kindness, or a convenience of fugitives.

I'd done that so often when I was only a little younger than she was now, lust in desperation or physical need. I didn't want her pity, but I couldn't live without her. With my arms pinned under us, my lips were first to throb from her actions, but I couldn't stop feeling glee, almost bubbling my relief that she wanted me. The pleasure-pain ache was far better than the careful and polite near-mask of words she'd worn sometimes.

Catching my breath as she shifted and I lost contact with her lips, my moaning her name resulted only in her covering my mouth with a hand. Quiet... I could manage that, and instead of nodding I stretched up and gnawed on her hand. A snicker from her and soon it was just us: pets forgotten, spirit shoved aside, and suspicious hunters ignored.

Finally I put my arms around her, glad.

Soon I could hear the camp begin to stir, and then Merrill speaking formally and moving away. So I let Aldera sleep, tucking her in blankets when I let Mew out for a time. Paws, I let wander on his own, though he returned to our tent before Hawke woke. We waited with Hawke studying from the one book.

Mid-afternoon Merrill returned to the tents, looking unhappy for her.

Patting the ground beside her, Hawke said, “Plenty of ground for resting, Merrill. What was decided?”

“The Keeper will help, but it comes at a price, and I...” Merrill paled but remained standing. “She wishes to speak with the Champion and the Scourge too.”

Maker, I'd known I would gain epithets from Justice's and my actions, but I'd hoped it would be somehow less... somehow more positive for free mages.

After a quick touch along my back, Hawke rose, her armor matte enough now that little reflected even in sunshine. She reached down to take my hand as I stood. Passing through much of the camp there were four elves standing in front of one of aravels, along with one of the halla.

Merrill introduced us, saying, “This is the Keeper of the Qavirren clan, and their First.” She gestured first to the older one who'd spoken to us yesterday, and then to male elf who looked younger than Merrill. In another wave, Merrill identified the others, “This is Narelia, our storyteller, our herd leader Swiftspring, and our Halla Keeper.”

I'd heard a few stories about halla when I was with the Warden, but none mentioned the comprehension in those eyes that was not deerlike. My thought was that this wasn't some kind of possession, and was echoed by an internal rumble.

“Hello,” Hawke said cautiously. “Can we be of assistance?”

The Keeper spoke with a hard look at Merrill, “This is about the assistance Merrill, once of Alerion and Sabrae, wants of us. She calls for a great sacrifice of halla and guidance that will put our clan at risk for the remnants of Sabrae. What would a shem do for that?”

Gripping my hand, Hawke said, “We don't have wealth or power that would help you. And there are some things we will not do, like blood magic or demons, but we can help in other ways and would be glad to.”

A challenging glance was sent to Merrill for some reason, but the Keeper said to us, “Merrill asks for two things and so it costs three, as a reminder to see the tree in the forest of her plans.”

Flushing, Merrill said, “The first thing the Keeper wants is for us to find an ancient codex of history and magic that had been hidden before the humans sent by the later followers of Andraste overran and decimated these lands. It had been hidden in the mountains where several clans could share it in hidden safety, but here is the only clan that remembers.”

“How long has it been? Will it have survived?” I wondered.

The Keeper smiled weakly on me, and with a wave I didn't understand, explained, “The codex is sheets of enchanted metal. It may have been scattered or stolen or deliberately melted, but simple weather will not have harmed them.”

A moment of silence and Merrill explained as if by rote, “The ruins once were where some of our people studied magic, to rekindle it in our daily life, But they came out to fight when the shem came and never returned to live. Some still went there to speak with the Creators for generations in safety, but around the time of the blight, it became a place of death for too many, and it was banned by the Keeper. She wants me to retrieve the codex and give it to her. They are not sure if it was darker spirits or the darkspawn.”

“I'll know,” I admitted with a frown that I could feel as coming from Justice, too.

The Keeper only nodded. “Second, Merrill must recover some new lore or magic, and personally deliver that knowledge to three different clans. The third part is Keeper training, that clans pay heavily for the mistakes of Keepers.”

“When the first task is done, I will travel to Sundermount,” the First said clearly, “for at least as long as until the next Arlathvhen, and the clans can decide what else might be due.”

I looked at Hawke, but I didn't feel that worried at these tasks. She began asking about a map and directions. Merrill looked relieved.

Not more than a few hours later we left camp, traveling east with the addition of Harjen to our group as guide. The elven hunter was very quiet for the rest of the day. She avoided Merrill aside from the necessities of travel and camp. The round trip would take weeks, and somehow the hunter reminded me of the heavy silences when Hawke collected Fenris and Vael into some missions. I couldn't decide if Harjen hated humans, mages, or Merrill the most.

Hawke got annoyed after a couple of days of travel, and asked Harjen, “Is there a chance you might relax a little around us? It's going to be some very long weeks if you keep brooding like this. We will have to work together in combat, from what little we know about this ruin.”

“Not really, you flat ears will fight anything that is in your way as you usually do, leaving only a swath of destruction behind you. My duty is to return safely to the clan,” she said with contempt.

Aldera looked disappointed, but didn't say anything else. Merrill didn't even look surprised at the answer and remained unusually silent as we made our way along narrow trails and sometimes thorny underbrush over the next days.

I healed Hawke and myself, as the briers clung more to us, finding gaps in our armor. I was getting convinced this was deliberate by the hunter. Hawke was getting more grim the closer to the Shiverpeaks we got. Merrill was so very guarded around Hanjen, missing even her naivete. It frustrated me in Kirkwall, but now she was not herself without the odd comments. That the hunter acting as some kind of Templar or Qun watchdog towards her was becoming an inescapable conclusion, even if Hanjen treated Hawke and I in much the same poor way. I know I didn't care what Hanjen thought at this point, she didn't know us.

More than a week later Hawke woke me with a nightmare. Though they were lessening, I murmured in her ear until she calmed.

“Wish I didn't wake you like this,” Hawke whispered, as Merrill still slept, or ignored us.

“Shh, love, I want to help,” I said with a kiss to her temple. “What was it this time?”

Clinging for a moment, she told me, “We fought more slavers or maybe even templars. Just us in a swamp... but you died this time. There were too many and I wasn't fast enough.” She gulped and stuttered while shivering, “What ha-happens then? I can't burn your... ashes and grieve then, will I? Not if Justice has been in a corpse before, and he's used to your body. Not having a host is so bad for his stability, so he's gonna walk around... in your body.”

“I don't know if I could look at him without you there too...” Dera said with a wobble.

It may not have been just my pang but some of our memories of Aura flashed, of when Justice had grieved in his way. Even the loss of Aura affected him so much more than he understood.

“I don't know what will happen to either of us, neither does Justice. I hope that he returns to the Fade with my soul.” Putting my lips against her forehead for a kiss, I insisted, “Do what you think right, love. I'm sorry we keep making it harder.”

I could hear the false cheer when she said, “You just make sure you don't die, then.”

With the time until my Calling ever slipping away, we reassured each other with lies until we fell asleep again.

-- x --

Two weeks since we'd left the Dalish camp and we'd begun to climb, making use of old trails and riverbeds. Harjen led the way, though Hawke marked a map. One ridge had a view over the scrublands we'd just left, when the trail started ascending more steeply. The next site for our camp had ancient carvings in the rock that still showed sigils of some kind.

We stopped in the shelter of the hillside, but Hawke and Harjen disappeared while Merrill and I set camp. Paws was stretching and rubbing his fur against a windworn tree, loosening where the basket had been. Ser Mew was on my shoulder again and purring.

“Are you happy?” Merrill suddenly asked.

I placed a waterskin and supplies next to the pot ready for whatever was found for meat. “Yes, you asked me this before.”

“You must have lied when you answered before. What makes your answer different now?” she wondered bitterly. “I didn't see it, when I was trained to listen to the butterfly's flutter and the blustery gale. All of a clan needs to be seen clearly, not just when they shout.”

I smiled. “It was true both times, Merrill. I'm always happy when I am with Hawke, even if that is not the only feeling I have. I always felt that way in part, even if terrible things surrounded us.”

Smiling with some relief, Merrill said, “As long as you don't go back to being grumpy.”

“Aldera is the only philtre I need for that,” I said with a grin.

With that Harjen returned with some edible creature, already skinned and butchered to put into a stew, and then she ignored me.

It could be worse, far worse than rudeness, I thought as I started the pot.

Hawke was gone longer than a privy run, even if she'd dug one, so I went to the mabari and asked if he'd lead me to her.

Paws looked at me like I was an idiot and led me up the only path to a ledge. The view there was amazing, and I could see there was a storm coming quickly. The breeze was already picking up, but we had some time before the clouds would be overhead.

Hawke turned back to look at me and smiled as I got close. “I'd like to watch it arrive.”

Standing behind her, the red hair band that Aveline gave her didn't prevent her hair from blowing into my face as I put my arms around her. I didn't mind feeling it flow around me, and I breathed in the scent of her and the damp-before-the-rain scent as we watched the clouds roll over us.

“Any lightning and we're going lower, Hawke. Real lightning is far more deadly than what mages throw around,” I spoke into her ear after taking a deep breath of her.

She was warm and still, facing the breezy gusts that started whipping about us. I felt no electricity building as we stood there. Hawke faced the wind, her head tilted up before the rain began to fall into us sideways, the fighting figurehead of my ship. I didn't need to see the storm, I bent down a little, curling around her so my face was at her neck. I didn't really want to get soaked but this was worth it.

When the cloudburst passed, the breeze began to drop off and I said, “We should get back, Hawke.”

“Thanks,” she said while running fingers through my soaked hair. “You don't have to stay out and get soaked.”

Turning her for a kiss, I admitted, “The best part is that we didn't get interrupted.”

Once back at our campsite we collected our cold bowls of stew, and spread out our wet clothing inside our tent. Merrill looked adorable in her smalls, as did Hawke of course.

Hawke, sitting close in front of me and studying, looked up and said, “If we are expecting a fight, we should wear our best armor. I don't think we'll find any Templars and we need the enhancements with a smaller group.”

“Harjen is with us,” Merrill objected.

“We don't know how skillful she is, nor do I think she really cares all that much if we survive, Merrill. I cannot see her risking her hide for Anders or I,” Hawke said with her jaw set.

With a sad sigh, Merrill agreed, “True, her duty is to guide us to the ruins and report on our success. I am not sure she will accompany us inside.”

We'd arrive in another day or two, but I had yet to hear of any elven ruins that didn't have spiders or skeletons. I would enjoy wearing my feathers again. No, 'enjoy' was too faint a word, as I ran my fingers through my pauldrons from our pack.

Notes:

Post block I think thanks to my betas agains and I hope to hear comments on what works/doesn't.

Chapter 19: Into the Past, Darkened

Summary:

Hawke, Anders, and Merrill travel into elven ruins for lore lost for maybe generations. Squatters are less then welcoming there, with spiders being the most friendly...

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

--- x x ---

-- The Frostback Mountains - Elvhenan ruins

Aldera:

I wished I could trust Harjen as easily as I had when I met my friends in Kirkwall, but Maker, I thought Fenris spoke more over the first weeks I'd known him. He had a slightly better reason for extreme paranoia because he was alone. Unlike his prickliness, we couldn't keep some distance from her. We needed her as a guide too much.

Merrill wanted her approval or perhaps through her, the Keeper's approval. She only sounded like herself when the other elf was away. Once we were in our tent for the night, I could see that Merrill relaxed and slept a little closer to Anders and I. Paws was also staying closer throughout the day.

I'd asked Merrill one time while Harjen was away, but she was evasive or unwilling to admit anything. What had the Keeper said to her? I was looking forward to Harjen staying behind now.

After a couple of days of climbing higher into this side of the mountains, I thought we should start wearing our true armor. Harjen said we were almost there. Ruin or graveyard, I'd never seen one where something hadn't tried to kill us. This time we knew something was dangerous ahead.

When I'd pulled my Champion armor out, I traced the shinier bits and the red I'd always thought was looking for trouble and blood. I remembered how embarrassed I'd been and a little proud every time another piece had been finished. All the other armor I'd ever owned had been second hand, but this was mine and only mine. I saw Anders was looking sadly at his pauldrons too, but I was reluctant to admit it out loud. It had been hard enough to convince him that his armor was too well known.

Mine was too, at least for those who'd seen me and not that plated 'Champion' statue at the docks.

As we settled for the night, I prayed I wouldn't have another nightmare. I couldn't explain it very well, nor did I want to remind Anders of what hadn't happened. Even so, bits of the dream kept coming to me over the next several days. Anders' body, still walking around, first with the wet of blood darkening his black Kirkwall armor. That could be cleaned, but seeing his mobile expressions flattened to almost nothing made me as sick as I could feel in the Fade.

Justice knew the extremes of emotion, but not pouting, smirking, or making one of Anders' silly little smiles. It'd be the difference between a puppet and an actor. It wasn't just that Anders was gone in the nightmare, but that his body, having so little finesse, reminded me too much of how Mother had moved so stiffly and awkwardly at the last.

I didn't hate Justice enough to want him destroyed. There weren't enough who wanted justice outside the Fade. I just didn't want to lose Anders.

The night passed peacefully and I didn't remember any dreams. I woke early, earlier than usual for me, looking forward to exploring the elven ruins. Anders stirred as well and happily scrambled into his Kirkwall armor.

His sigh of happiness was almost musical as he ran his fingers over the feathers.

“You do look nice,” I admitted, leaning over for a kiss.

Anders was smiling as he scoffed, “You, love, are not picky about what people wear... unless.” He frowned without finishing his sentence.

I laced my fingers through his. I waited a long moment and reminded him, “Six months of staying quiet, and then the Chantry and Templars will have too many other problems to hunt us quite as much.”

“I think Justice agrees with you,” he said while looking away with a pout.

No, Justice didn't care about Anders' looks; I did because it made him happier. Moving closer, I told them, “I'd rather you live longer and help more people than get killed by some overeager Templar working off an old sketch.”

“It is not as if you discarded your feathers, Anders,” Merrill added while sitting up. “We probably should darken your hair again. I can see it is lighter at your roots.”

“I'm happy enough right now, I don't care,” Anders claimed, moving his hands over his feathers.

My fingers were still in his; I didn't really care about the feathers either way. I just liked touching him.

“We need to pack,” Merrill said with a smile at us being sappy.

When we left the tent, and stepped into the clear, early morning light, my breath caught. My stomach churned as I finally noticed that Anders' robes hung on him. He'd always been lean, but he'd pared down even more since the last time he wore these robes.

I would have to make sure he ate more, all jokes about warden appetite aside.

Harjen was awake and eager to leave but we ate first. The trail had become steep and rock had shattered from cold winters, making it loose scree and hard for climbing.

Climbing another steep incline, I saw an entrance in the rocky ridge, There was a level space in front of it. It was exposed to the weather, so the carvings had become weathered, with thick and ropey vines climbing up the rock. Some looked dead, with no leaves or green color. Others still had growth and life. The vines only partly hid the carvings that looked a bit like statues I'd seen around the Dalish camp, except maybe twice as tall.

Merrill started some kind of chant, listing names I did not recognize, I'd heard them before, most likely from her tales, but like the names of those who helped Andraste, I barely knew the names.

“This is our people's place of wisdom and study, Pariah,” Harjen said in an angry voice. Her glare only glanced off Anders and I, but centered on Merrill. “The Keeper demands you recover knowledge from the Elders' study. And I will be here to ensure you do not send others to do your duty.”

With those words, Merrill flinched, but did not reply.

I clenched my fists, really wanting to knock the bitch out.

She knew Merrill was skillful and wanted this Keeper's approval, and the hunter abused that because she could.

So I settled for snarling, “Too bad you 'superior' sorts have to depend on people you hate and disdain to accomplish what you cannot...”

Harjen's outraged shout of, “Shemlen!” came at the same time as Merrill crying my name in horror.

“No, she doesn't have to like us, but she should at least give us a bit of respect for our skill. She should respect you more than that, as you're Dalish too. If she doesn't respect you, then this is only a twisted way to send us to your dread wolf while acting as snotty superior as any shemlen king, and as cowardly as nobles have proven,” I said with my arms still trembling with my desire to make her be nice to Merrill. That is, pound her face enough to make snooty airs physically painful.

“Lethallan, the Keeper trusts us to recover the lore,” Merrill said carefully. “The hunter must obey the Keeper in clan matters.”

Anders gripped my arm and I forced myself to take a breath, and to think of all the tasks I'd been sent on by people who'd later been friends. Then I remembered that they usually came along, Anders in the Chantry, Fenris and the slavers in Danarius' mansion, Isabela, Aveline... actually Vael had been the only one that sent us to do something dangerous without coming along.

I'd think about that one later. “Let's get inside, something smells out here.”

I would have liked to study the carvings for my own curiosity, but we moved inside and the light was very limited. I stepped aside, glancing around for traps while the others followed me in.

One of the things I regretted was that no armorer had ever been even vaguely interested in making a protective collar for my mabari, something that could take runes. Not even when I was 'Champion.' I'd seen them on the occasional war dog that passed through Lothering, but hadn't the interest or funds then.

I knelt and said to my mabari, “The kitten is kind of helpless, Paws. You have to keep him away from combat and magic.”

He looked puzzled for a second, but Mew must have shifted in the basket as Paws looked disappointed and licked my face. A hug and an ear scritch and I thought he'd hang back, or try to.

We prepared ourselves. My daggers were out and ready, and their staves were glowing slightly, enough to even out the faint light from the entrance and infrequent holes we usually saw underground. Looking around for detail, there were carvings a little below waist height that almost had a pattern or resembled something deliberate. It had obviously been many years if not generations since this had been used regularly. There were a few large vines that had sent roots in through the entrance, but the light dropped rapidly not far into the hall, so there was only bits of crumbled stone and broken bits of wood and vine on the floor. I was surprised I didn't smell that this had been an animal den.

I moved forward, watching for old traps and moving creatures. None of us were surprised when the winding tunnel-hall opened up into a spider lair. Aside for a couple of warning barks, Paws backed towards the entrance while I put my favorite poison on my daggers, especially for every spider I nicked.

A stab at the neck and slices at leg joints and I kept moving from spider to spider, only seeing the mage spells out of the corner of my eyes. I knew I was indulging too much in the temptation of pride, but it took a lot more than even giant spiders to scare me anymore. If I lost, I'd be a corpse for dinner. If we fought Templars or Sebastian or Qunari or Magisters, the outcome would be far worse.

Still I got webbed once and the thing reared up like the bottom of its carapace was going to scare me. The fangs were, even without the rearing. The webbing kept me upright and unable to dodge the spider's attack much, only enough give to let me lean. Its bite landed a little off center, slicing my shoulder, nearly to the bone.

A bark and a curse, and the sheen of one of Anders' protective barrier spells sprang up around me. By the time it dissipated, I'd worked myself free of the web and swept both blades into the spider.

Looking around, there were only two spiders left and they already looked battered. When they were dead, I looked around to make sure no more were about to appear before I relaxed.

Anders asked his usual question about our injuries, although he'd almost reached me as he said it. Merrill rarely was injured badly, but she shook her head this time. Once I felt better, we moved further inward and reached a low hall where the support columns resembled arched tree trunks. Holes in the ceiling let in light, and there were stone benches that still had light shining down on them. Some arches further in the hall led into darkness, but one showed dim light.

I looked at Merrill, but she'd moved to the pillar and was tracing something only she could see with a careful reverence. Anders drifted a step closer too, so I knelt to comfort Paws for a little. Taking a short path around the hall with Paws for company, there were three hallways that ever so slightly resembled a tunnel through bushes instead of rock ones. The fourth looked as if it went outside, with a door hanging a little off its hinges. Looking back the way they'd entered, I wasn't sure if that hall was plain because it was outside or it had been damaged over years of weather.

Anders had left the pillars and sat with Mew on the bench beside him. Soon my mage was making noises at Paws and leaning forward as he clicked and almost cooed as if the mabari was a kitten too.

Big Paws must have decided Anders was taunting him, as the mabari looked at me. If a mabari could roll his eyes, his face said he wanted to. I could feel my smile as Paws lunged forward to lick Anders all over his face. He yipped happily and sat watching as Anders spat and tried to wipe his face off before glaring at Paws.

Anders glared at me next, even if he hadn't tensed in true ire, and started a complaint.

Squeezing him a little, I was nearly laughing when I said, “He can tell when you're mocking him, love. He does have other ways to express his annoyance.”

Paws barked again to agree, diverting Anders.

Once he'd grumped for a moment more, Anders returned to Mew, dangling a strip of fabric for the kitten to play with. Cheery after that, Anders said with a grin towards where Merrill was busy, “This may take longer then Ser Snobby-bow expects. I am so broken up about it, too.”

Sliding over to lean against him, I realized I'd gotten chilly now that we were both underground and still. Turning on the bench, I put my head in Anders' lap and looked up at the look of mild surprise on his face. His nose and jaw were even more prominent from here. I settled and let my head sag, closing my eyes tiredly and saying, “I've missed your silly feathers.”

“Dera?” Anders said what seemed to be immediately after. Though I realized a hand's worth of fingers were now cupping my skull and massaging. At my sleepy growl, he continued, “Merrill's done for now.”

-- x --

Anders:

It had been too long since I could just watch Hawke sleep in the light. I'd done more of that than Justice liked over the years, but with what had happened eventually, it had always been a comfort. Dera's face had relaxed into sleep and I threaded my fingers into her hair, more easily since she'd left it loosely tied like Aveline's.

Merrill came back, and on seeing us was surprised enough to say, “Oh, I'm sorry I took that long. It is fascinating. Some pillars have variants of the stories of our Creators, and it is fascinating. They are carved, and the titles for the Dread Wolf change. I found fascinating hints of how he ranges...” Pausing as if she wanted to flush, “Oh, I've went and said fascinating too many times haven't I? I wonder if the Keeper already knows these tales. I feel I might even learning something about eluvians if I study long enough. How could they leave all this behind?”

That is an easy question to me, I'd left everything behind, for good and bad reasons several times. “To survive, Merrill. Lore does no good if there's no one left alive to know it. No lore I know of helps mages who join with benevolent spirits stay sane. All anyone knows about it are about the ones who lose their sanity and become wild killers.”

Still speaking quietly, Merrill agreed, “We know of spirits who become embroiled, like... Marethari, but not for very long. They always become a threat to their own clan. Those are our most grievous hunts, shared with other clans at need. I have long seen that you are still mostly human and wonder how long you can continue.”

Great, I'm... no, we're, Merrill's study project. I had an image of her standing at a lectern in front of a group of mages, describing my slow descent into madness, with diagrams of the hidden arcane meaning of how and where I glowed. No, she was Dalish, so her students would be clustered on the ground around a log with edible and decorative fungi.

Justice was annoyed at one or both of us, but didn't say anything. This really wasn't relating to his purpose, nor did it impede our work.

Running fingers through Hawke's hair again, I reminded Merrill, “Wardens don't live long.”

“Have you sensed darkspawn, Anders?”

“No, I could not rest idly like this if I had.” Wondering if research here counted for her bargain, I suggested, “You might as well learn what you can here until Hawke wakes.”

She nodded and turned away, Paws stood and followed her.

At last I'd woken Hawke; she'd been looking tired so the rest was just what this healer wanted for her. She was irritated like many other times when she'd been woken, but she was cute like that so I didn't mind.

“You're ready to move on?” she asked Merrill at her return, and with the other mage's happy nod, we made plans to explore the other tunnels.

As we explored, this area seemed either an inn or a school. Some rooms had bunks with shifting webs shrouding them and some were smaller, looking like studies. Merrill found a couple of books in an alcove of one larger cave along with yet another group of spiders. These were different, but the faster survivors finally fled through a hole in the roof. We found some corpses, all in very decayed states in different rooms. Some few looked human or dwarven, but Hawke looted as we went, disarming a trap or two.

Then the last archway was the one that we believed went outside, and Merrill said, “I do hope that there is more, neither of these books fits the description that the Keeper gave me.”

I'd been wondering myself, as I hadn't seen so much as a bookshelf like the one in Merrill's Alienage home. There had to be more. We stepped into the brighter hall and it moved downward slightly before opening out into what must have once been a protected garden. The way the garden was bowled it might have had a roof once, though now it opened to the sky. Only slightly overgrown in the current cold, a path through the small valley to another entrance beckoned.

We moved forward, when I started to feel uneasy without knowing why at first. We were well over halfway when I felt the earth shake behind me. Turning, I called to Hawke and Merrill in front of me. I looked up and up into the maw of another Varterrall.

As it lunged, I threw up a shield, to only be able to see the maw of a creature that wasn't quite alive. I'd been well back the other times we'd fought them and tried backing up.

Hawke knocked me over, but once I scrambled back out of the way, we slowed it enough between poison and our spells that we disabled it. I couldn't say we killed it, but it would be quiet for a time, I hoped. It had taken much longer this time than near Kirkwall.

“This shouldn't have blocked an all elf group, right, Merrill?” Hawke wondered.

Looking up from the creature's markings, Merrill said doubtfully, “No, they should not, but Pol's death says that perhaps the magic is fading after all these years.”

Thinking about the magics of elven ruins that I'd seen and heard of, even fading they were impressive, “Then this should not have blocked this clan from their ruins then. I...”

I had to stop.

It was there, the first time I'd felt it in many months now and still only an echo at the moment. “There are darkspawn in there,” I announced, feeling myself snarl. Even as I spoke, I could feel some getting closer. “The spider was keeping them underground!”

I was getting angry, what good was a guardian that couldn't communicate?

Hawke spun and told Paws, “Guard behind us.”

The mabari bared his teeth and took a step forward, but Dera glared back and said the dog's name more sharply than I could remember. The stand-off felt like it was long, but the mabari shrunk a little, before Dera petted him again. She was blinking a little too much, but her darker hair against his fur showed his gray even a few steps away.

It wasn't a perfect solution, but we couldn't leave him with Orana or even training with Aveline now.

Even as this happened I could feel more spawn getting closer to the surface, “We have to go before too many get close...” and we would be overwhelmed.

Hawke led, with Merrill next. Paws was behind me a distance, and Ser Mew was quiet.

The next was dirty and bloody, a nightmare that was too real. The further we got in, the more I was worried that there was a broodmother in there. Some areas we passed through looked relatively intact, but others had the unlovely fleshy mess that darkspawn left behind. But no, this was hours and felt like days as we worked our way into the mountain.

Most of what we fought were shrieks and genlocks. The shrieking made concentration difficult, and Justice helped there, as Hawke darted in and out of their groups much like ever. After every fight, I checked her very carefully and cleaned her injuries, praying yet again she'd not repeat what happened to her sister.

It would be days before we could be sure, and I dreaded if she ever needed and asked for mercy. A nightmare every time we faced them. Having the nightmares might have almost been more comforting than the blankness when I slept, because then they were only Fade-dreams.

I checked Merrill as well, but she didn't get as many injuries as Hawke; I ignored a few uses of blood magic she'd used for healing when fighting darkspawn. As much as I hated blood magic, it was somehow less an issue to me when fighting them.

As we got further in there were fewer and shorter breaks between fights, and we were using more potions. I was nearly out of lyrium now and doubted the others were doing much better for restorative potions.

Then we got past the elven areas and found rough caverns; tunnels not dug with tools and neat like the work of dwarves either. I could only think it was a lost section of the Deep Roads, once part of the dwarven thaigs.

How large and powerful had the dwarven kingdoms been? Orzammar, I'd heard from someone, once had not been one of the older or more powerful thaigs. Perhaps it was just more stubborn. The Deep Roads were some kind of sunless mirror of the Imperial Highway, spreading under Thedas.

This tunnel was crude and had decayed fleshy bits like any area owned by darkspawn for any period of time. We'd found no broodmothers yet, and I didn't want to go any deeper looking with only three of us. And only one warden, that could not end well.

“Love?” I said, realizing that was the first thing any of us had said out loud for some time now. “This is going too deep for just us to handle. We need to collapse a key point, like we did near Amaranthine.”

Hawke sighed with relief. “I am so glad.”

Merrill smiled and said, “At least we can explain the problem to the Keeper, and that... you will tell wardens about this place?

“Yes, I will have to find some wardens and soon,” I said with my heart heavy. I could not leave this area for only an elven artifact to guard, and one that may not last if it attacked elven groups, too. I doubted my welcome from most wardens would be warm. I'd only seen three wardens and their commands since Bethany had her Joining: Nathaniel Howe, Alistair, and of course Bethany.

I had no idea where any of them were right now.

We moved inward and down, looking for a choke point where our spells might cause a large collapse. We found one, and I almost wished I had more of what I'd used on the Chantry.

It might have taken us a day, as we had to rest as we weakened the rock with cold and Merrill's earth spells. Hawke and Paws kept watch, and once we started the collapses one rock hit her on the back as she retreated. More rock, more shaking earth and it was blocked for weeks at least. A bit more retreat and another collapse, and Merrill thought the Varterral should be able, well before the darkspawn could get out.

Time was passing in a more immediate need that left me irritable as we explored and and did some looting. Merrill was looking for the tome for the Keeper and we'd seen many shelves on our way in, while chasing the darkspawn. Now we spent a more peaceful time while Merrill and I searched and studied.

Hawke found some gems and smaller weapons as we went, but spent less time with the books. Some carvings I studied showed elven mages using swords. I'd heard about them from the Warden's tall tales, but...

You lack the focus for swords.

Glad your opinion of me is one constant in my life.

No, you are a healer. That should be no surprise.

Justice sounded less aggravated the second time, but he'd always disapproved.

After the day of searching Merrill found another locked stone cabinet. No touch of the Fade was discernible at first, but once the stone door was unlocked, there was a very deep shelf inside. There were slight magics there, of preservation or protection maybe, but we could feel them now, even if very faintly.

Merrill reached inside and found several tomes, but only one still had the fading magics. Her hush as she pulled them out had a weight of its own. She opened it reverently.

I looked at the others and then Hawke did as well. They were treasures, lore on magic and healing and some very different explanations of the same history I doubted. Even in Hawke's eyes I could see some regret, I doubted we could keep these, even if they only wanted the other tome.

Hating the Deep Roads as I did, I'd be willing to stay a day or so if we could copy at least parts of the herbal.

Merrill didn't mind, as long as we left these others here. She studied the elven lore books, but when food for Paws was getting short, we had to leave. Merill packed the other books back to where they'd been safe and wrapped up the tome we'd come for; we left the tainted area very carefully. The Varterral only twitched as we passed.

As we made our way back out, the darkspawn back there began to weigh on me. Every other time I'd faced them, I'd never left any behind me and alive. Justice was restless as well, sometimes in Amaranthine I'd wondered if a spirit could become tainted to fight darkspawn like wardens were, as he'd been so easy to convince for the Warden. He'd never really argued it, even with me.

We found the Harjen in a small camp outside, and she was her customary pleasant self in her greetings.

Tired enough that I didn't care what she thought, I said before Merrill could speak, “Darkspawn, but too many for a group this small unless we were all Grey Wardens. Deep in is a passage I think may lead into some part of the Deep Roads. The Wardens must be notified even though we blocked them for a time. Let's go.”

She wasn't pleased, but I didn't care what she liked right then. Hawke and Merrill were tired or annoyed enough not to cater to her this time.

We traveled past sunset every day, using magic to continue, falling into our blankets every day. The hunter finally was of some use, keeping watch much of the time.

I didn't want to ask what we looked like when we'd left the darkspawn lair.

--- x x ---

A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 20: The Fires Burning Into the Night

Summary:

The Dalish artifact can be returned to the Keeper, to gain help that the remnants on Sundermount need. Next they turn east to find more Gray Wardens for the ruins, but the Imperial Highway and towns in what used to be the Dales are not necessarily safe.

Notes:

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

-- The Dale Lands

Anders:

Despite our hurried travel, we'd gradually cleaned up well before we found the new Dalish camp. I had to stop wearing my own pauldrons and robes again, but it hadn't hurt as much this time. I still had them, the leather only a disguise. I could change back anytime.

Merrill was excited by the ancient tome, and she stayed up even later to study and take notes from it every night. Her enthusiasm completely ignored the sour disposition of the hunter.

So then Harjen was irked that Merrill wasn't even noticing her sour words. I began trading smirks with Hawke when it happened.

Hawke had switched armors too, so neither of us were wearing our best protections as we reached the Dalish camp. The Hunter guided us along a different trail that had been further west than the first one. Not that even I might have been able to follow it the trail, wagons with sails still left an obvious trail for a time. I could hear a waterfall nearby.

Our welcome was a little warmer than before, maybe because Merrill led our way into the camp, almost bubbling with her excitement. This time Harjen led us to the far side of the camp, without telling Hawke and I to stay behind. I could see Hawke was still watchful.

The Keeper and her First were already together, either awaiting us or discussing something else. On seeing us and taking a quick glance at the Hunter, the Keeper smiled a bit more warmly than she had before. The First looked both relieved and concerned.

“Welcome, Merrill. I see the Creators looked on this with favor...” the older woman greeted her.

I started to speak about the darkspawn, but Hawke had stepped closer and squeezed my arm. Her gaze was pointedly on Merrill and the Keeper. Merrill was not bubbly, but determined in her stance. Some balance had shifted with our return. Merrill took out the ancient tome and reverently gave it to the Keeper.

The Keeper held it like a beloved child and said, “ Ma serannas, children. Aroste and Cerite will begin preparations to give relief to what remains of Sabrae clan.” She nodded to the First, saying, “Please inform the Halla keeper, Aroste.”

With a bow to the Keeper, the First said wryly, “Cerite will grumble at it, but she has already reported that some of the Halla were interested in new horizons.” Bowing to us more shallowly after a careful look at the tome, he left.

“Can you explain what happened to our hunters?” the Keeper asked the Hunter gently.

Harjen shook her head, flushing. I wasn't about to help with that as she had decided to play it safe outside the ruins. Neither Merrill nor Hawke helped her either. I wanted to laugh at her irritation, but only smiled as she'd put herself into this hole.

After a long moment where the disapproval of the Keeper became obvious, Merrill said, “I believe the Gray Warden should report on this...”

My urge to smile disappeared, “There are darkspawn, and a fissure in the inner section that must link to the Deep Roads somehow. There were too many for the three of us to root it out with only one of us being a Warden. We collapsed their exit, but I don't know how long it will hold them down there.”

“The Varterral attacked one of the People, but we believe it has been holding them in as well,” Merrill said sadly. “It may not be safe to return unless the Wardens can do something more permanent.”

“Will they?” the Keeper asked.

Hawke slid an arm around me as I said, “They will, but I don't know where the nearest Warden outpost is located. The one I trained at was near Amaranthine.”

The Keeper considered only an instant. “Then we will do what we can to speed you towards other Wardens if the need demands it. Merrill, you may trade with our maker. Sabrae will get relief in a matter of weeks.”

Merrill gave a sigh and relaxed, saying, “Ma serannas, Keeper. I hope they find their way.”

I had to envy her a little, as she had now saved her clan as she had sworn on Sundermount. My... our oaths were still unfulfilled. We had made a good start, but...

Freedom for mages will come.

I hope to live to see it.

If they slay you, they will drown in my vengeance.

Even so, I'd still prefer living my remaining years with Hawke.

With that, our audience seemed to be over. Harjen stalked off and Merrill waved us to follow her to a wagon where a craftsman worked on a bow. I didn't think we should try to buy food here, nor did it look like they would offer any.

Looking over the elfroot concoctions, I wondered if they were the same as I made. Hawke reached up to my twig-thick braids, so I looked at her face, but she was concentrating on whatever she was doing with my hair. “What are you doing, love?”

Her face got softer and she looked at me with big eyes, “Since we are heading into barbarian Ferelden, shouldn't your braids have some decoration?”

I could see her using those eyes, something she didn't do much. I never could decide if she learned it from her mabari or the other way around. Touching her nose lightly I asked with mock seriousness, “What kind of decorations? I draw the line at bones...”

Hawke grinned at that, relieving my half-formed fears, “Nothing that bad. Since you like feathers, maybe we could get small, black feathers for your braids. Not as noticeable as your pauldrons, but...”

That was much better and echoed my robes, so I smiled back. “Much better than tying them with cord.”

Once we'd bought some feathers from the trader, I had a score of them, which included a few spares. We had as much as we thought we could carry safely.

When we finished, Hawke pushed for us to leave even if we'd have only a little while to travel before dusk. To my surprise, Merrill did not object. North and we should reach the Imperial Road again. I thought we were south of Lydes, Hawke believed Halamshiral, while Merrill only smiled when we took turns arguing our points. I offered that we could trade cities we were arguing if Merrill wanted, and Hawke immediately stated a great yearning to see the famed herbal market in Lydes.

Which city didn't matter much, as we planned to go east into Ferelden next. I hadn't been there for years, growing close to as long as I'd been a prisoner in their Circle. I didn't really know it as well as Kirkwall for all that, not like the Warden had, she'd whiled away many evening campfires with stories of crossing the land many times during the Blight, telling us about the lonely Wilds, to intrigue-ridden Denerim, to the remote villages in the Frostbacks, to the lycanthrope-stalked Brecilian Forest. Those were places I knew mostly through maps and travel stories. I'd been to larger settlements, but never very long, and most of the places I'd stayed had been dingy and dangerous enough that Darktown had been little different.

Living with Hawke these years was a slow eduction in how others, non-mages, lived. Not that Hawke wasn't nearly as wary as I, but I could see how people on neighboring estates lived. I'd had neighbors when I'd lived in Darktown, but we'd all been more secretive in the darker parts of the city. Hawke was of the sun and wind. She was flying home, her growing excitement obvious even if she hadn't said anything.

Nowhere had felt like a home to me, I wasn't sure what 'home' meant. For so many years after I'd lost my family and home, I'd been surprised when I'd turned around and realized I'd been living and working in Darktown three years after that bloody expedition. It still hadn't felt like a home, though. Hawke would visit me in those years, bringing the sunlight down with her. I was the bruised herb turning towards her light, or so I'd thought morosely after sending her off yet again like a fool. When she started dragging me out again, that wore away my resistance.

Merrill led us to a place that even to my eye, spoke of a long used campsite, though empty. While Merrill was removing Paws' empty basket, I moved over to Hawke where she was laying down some wood and tinder into a campfire. Mew nicked my ear before he dropped off as I knelt down beside Dera.

Once she'd finished, I supplied the ignition and pulled her close to ask, “Glad to be going home, Love?”

“I hadn't wanted to be that obvious.” Settling close, Hawke wryly admitted with a caress of my cheek, “Kirkwall had some very nice things, but it never became home the way Lothering and Ferelden was. There we only had to worry about the occasional Templar finding us. Not angry Magister slavers, Qunari, or lyrium poisoned Templars. Even if Father, Mother, and Carver are gone, I'd like to try and locate where Carver died outside Lothering. We couldn't pause long enough to return him to ashes, like we had for Mother and Father.”

I didn't know what to say for this. I hadn't been close to anyone else other than Karl, and I'd never quite wanted to see his life reduced to bare numbers. The date he'd been made Tranquil was truly his date of death, his empty body like one healed when the living spark was gone. I hadn't quite dared to approach the Chantry when they should have had a ceremony for his death, that would have been too much a trap. I'd grieved, but it never felt complete; going to the Chantry to grieve when they caused his death rankled.

After Leandra had died I'd gone there with Hawke, and her light dimmed. My own heart ached for her, and Karl again, too. Now I wondered if that Hightown memorial for Leandra had survived the destruction that Justice and I had wrought.

Again I had to say it, “I'm sorry, Hawke.”

No, that was wrong. “Dera, I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to take that away.”

Stiffening in my arms, she twisted to look me in the eye. “What are you talking about, Anders?”

Looking at the fire, I rested my chin on her shoulder and sighed, “Your mother's memorial. I doubt it survived the explosion. I'm sorry...” I didn't know what else to say.

“Oh,” she said, plainly surprised at the idea. Glumly she added, “They might have vandalized it afterward anyway.”

That didn't make me feel any better. Leandra had nothing to do with what happened, I just held Hawke and looked at the fire with her for a while.

In the morning, Hawke and Merrill redid my braids to include the small feathers. I didn't know how it looked, but I felt better to be wearing feathers again. They both teased me on and off for days about it. Ser Mew found them much more fun to play with. Only Paws left my feathers alone, even though I thought he was laughing at them too.

The old Imperial Highway didn't have a sign saying how far we were from the next town where we climbed up. The stairs and landing had been overgrown over the years. Once we had climbed to the main roadbed we started east. Travel was much easier, and we caught up with a dwarven merchant caravan also traveling east. They didn't question a couple of mercenaries guarding a Dalish elf, not with the troubles. They reminded me of Bodahn far more then Varric or even Oghren.

We had no problems until we reached Halamshiral and the caravan moved towards some warehouses.

This was a trade town and the usual divisions into districts a little less obvious than other cities. The richer buildings looked much more Orlesian where we entered from the west. There was a Chantry there, humming with activity, and I tried to ignore how Hawke and even Merrill watched me at first.

Justice hummed with anger, but Hawke took my hand, which helped. This was no center of Templar power, just another example of how the Chantry had used the threat of their Marches to browbeat any who might be more moderate than they liked. The stamp of the old Dales was still visible in the crowds, many had that trace of finespun appearance that Feynriel had had. Some who wore wealthy clothing or exited richer homes had that trace too. They'd never do as well in a human city like Kirkwall or Denerim, but here?

Merrill turned us off to visit the much larger Alienage. I'd been tolerated in Alienages much better than most humans. They weren't necessarily as afraid of magic and some referred to both the Maker and the Creators.

She'd been welcomed a bit like Keeper Marethari had been in Kirkwall, but dismayed when some needed healing. Then small Merrill demanded my help, as if I needed to be asked. There were only a few cases that needed more than brief attention, more they needed time to heal. After that, the elder wanted to speak with her as an equal, and I could see how she needed that recognition.

Hawke and I were not exactly welcomed as overnight guests among the elves when we looked around the street for an inn or place to stay. Some spat at us in our armor, and I was tired enough to only be irritated. It was getting to be past a chill sunset when we looked outside the Alienage to find an inn or even abandoned shed well away from the Chantry.

Perhaps it was our need for us to see in the dark street, but I heard a bellow of “Apostate!”

It all happened in an instant, like the slow fall of a thick and golden honey, or dark and stifling tar. My thoughts raced and it seemed like I could have finished another manifesto in that month of its fall. Standing there, just outside the pale light from my spear were a several helmed Templars, armor glowing with their default outrage.

Hawke barked at Paws, “Back!”

As loud as she was, Justice's roar filled my mind. The bastards suddenly had plenty of light to see us by. Weapons were drawn even as we called on Fade energy for my magic.

The tar had fallen and the instant was over and I looked around in horror.

Hawke's face was covered in blood, the sword that she'd had prominently displayed was missing. She had her arms around mine and was holding tight. I was alarmed at how much the whites of her eyes were showing.

The narrow street was empty of everything but blood. The corpses weren't just dead with the efficient wounds that Dera or Aveline would leave behind. They were... I lost count of the injuries as I looked around. Even so, I cataloged them as a healer does without thought: amputation, evisceration, castration. My staff was covered in blood which was still was pooling in the street, even if their spirits were gone.

Tasting copper even if I was not in pain, I almost shouted inside myself. What did you do?

They are as guilty as any we fought, attacking innocent travelers without even lip service to anything other than their hate!

My throat hurt, from either that slaughter, or Dera looking at me like this. You told the Warden over and over that you weren't a demon. But Dera's afraid of us now. Dera!

A weighted silence rang inside me and I dropped my head on her shoulder to say, “I'm sorry, Love.” over and over.

Finally I heard Justice speak. I don't understand what. Then came a first from him out loud, “I'm sorry, Hawke.”

Loosening her grip encircling me cautiously, Hawke took a deep breath without really meeting my eyes. “We have to get you away and washed up.”

Her voice was so flat that it nearly broke my heart. I'd somehow thought as long as she believed in me, that I wasn't a monster. But we had become one, hadn't we? I had no idea what to do now, Justice knew whatever I thought.

Keeping my own voice level, I told her, “Whatever you decide, Love. Whatever.”

Our eyes finally met in the near darkness and she let my arms free finally. I couldn't see much of her expression since our light had faded. I considered turning my back again just to make it fast, but that was pointless as she could have done that before I got control back. She was always fast.

Sadly, she only said, “For the rest of our lives...”

Remembering her nightmare if I died, my gesture might have been stupid. Mustering a fleeting smile. I had to say, “I will have to make sure I get killed in such a way to not leave you with a good looking corpse.”

The smile was only a lie, as I wanted more to weep with mourning my infant hopes.

An uneasy laugh and Dera hugged me close to her, but this time was a happier embrace than a moment ago as we both relaxed a little. She whistled and Paws edged out of the shadows, looking at me warily. He and his basket with Mew looked intact.

I almost demanded of my spirit what could be unjust or deserving of any vengeance as a dog and cat, but his silence was already heavy.

Hawke stripped the corpses of anything valuable and located her sword which had ended up a distance away. A few words from her, and Paws led us away to the nearest water fountain, a trough for dray animals. Hawke had little beyond blood splashed on her face. My armor and clothing would be damp until dawn.

A inn that seemed very like the Hanged Man for noise and run down appearance wasn't far away. When we went in, Hawke was wary as she got us a room from a drunken innkeeper with plainly elven blood. Hawke glared at anyone who looked askance at us, but the others there seemed to be mercenaries, guards, or travelers. A snicker and rude comment at Hawke came from a man at the bar as we pushed out way towards the rooms.

Hawke nearly stopped to start a brawl, but only grabbed my arm to pull me towards our room with Paws joining us at the stair.

Once in our room where Mew and Paws were freed from each other and our packs were dropped, Hawke helped me spread out my things so they could dry. Then we just looked at each other.

My words had run out.

I hadn't wanted to face this, but couldn't wait for 'someday.' I held my hand up, in a wordless plea for a moment. I had to talk to her, but it depended too much on what happened next.

Dera nodded gravely, and led me over to sit on the edge of the straw mattress. Her mobile face being so flat and still, like when she'd dealt with Templars, hurt me to see. What gave me hope was that she had taken my hand in a firm clasp.

Spirit! We must talk! I cannot go on like this! The mages need allies, and Hawke has never been less than that. If we lose allies like her, our cause is lost.

Yes. That was not right.

You have to know this, you gave heart to those villagers in Blackmarsh. You understood then, while that bitch only used her power to crush them down.

Templars are not like those villagers, they attacked immediately. If this had been someone weaker like Terrie of Starkhaven, they would have been killed without any regret.

Just because they are idiots, doesn't mean we have to be. You... we made Hawke and a mabari fear. What does that say about us? We know what they have faced without fear. We need allies, not making everyone we meet fear us. I remembered the look of fear when Trask's daughter had been cornered. I didn't want to become that kind of monster, the kind that enjoyed fear.

He next sounded as uneasy as ever was heard from him. I don't know. Something is wrong, and it is not the tainted Veil in Kirkwall...

There was a pause, even for the speed our thoughts usually were.

Templars should fear mages, fear us, for all they have done!

I still agreed, but he almost sounded confused again, like he'd been so often at the Vigil. Will you be more careful? Hawke is not just my love, but an asset for our cause long before we met her.

I feel a fondness, like that for Aura.

That and his earlier apology was all I thought I could hope for. I looked up at her, patiently holding my hand, and brought hers up for a brief kiss. “Thank you for staying, Dera. I do not understand this bloodthirst. Neither of us were like that... before. We might kill, but...”

What I was beginning to fear was that maybe the Chantry might be right, that no spirits were relatively safe. I shouted at a rumbling inside, but it was getting harder to deny. It also bothered me that the Dalish teachings may be closer to the truth, even if I had already rejected so much of what the Circle taught me.

Hawke pulled me into her arms and I took comfort in that. As the moments passed, my exhaustion resurfaced, and I began yawning as I tried to stay awake.

Perhaps I had dozed briefly, but I grew alert when she pulled back to look me in my face. She looked so worried, even to my sleepy self.

“I'm going out to the bar, to get some food and check to see what kind of rumors there are. Winter's coming, so mercenaries like us should be looking for a place that's quiet and cheap. News about the towers too.” Her voice was soft and hesitant. “I'll leave Paws and Ser Mew to keep you company and keep watch.”

Brushing her cheek with sleep-shaky fingers, I had to smile. “We will be fine. Be careful. I will be waiting for you, even if I might be resting. You really should wake me, we don't want to waste our privacy.”

Notes:

A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 21: The Mere Panic of Timid Imagination

Summary:

With Ander's losing control after healing in the Alienage, Dera must do damage control and make plans for their safety on her own...

Notes:

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

-- The Dale Lands, Halamshiral

Dera Hawke:

Finding some Gray Wardens for the Dalish sounded like a good plan for the immediate future. I didn't know where, though. I knew Bethany was at some post in the Marches. I didn't ask, and she didn't volunteer.

There had to be something in or near Kirkwall for Wardens to cross my path as often as they had, and as quickly as Bethany had appeared when the Chantry exploded. Anders didn't seem to know anything, but as much as I loved the man, he was rotten at being sneaky... well, usually. He thought “A” was a subtle code name, which nearly made Varric and I bust out laughing when we found the note. We managed to only roll our eyes at each other while my healer tried to look neutral.

I just could not believe that there was not at least something, some house, somewhere in the many streets of Lowtown or even the docks. Kirkwall couldn't only lease warehouse space to slavers, smugglers, and lunatics. Well, maybe some thought wardens were lunatics, but they didn't as much when the darkspawn were flooding the next kingdom over.

Simply, I believed Anders had never been told. Why would they? Why would a mage warden leave Ferelden, with its historical antipathy against Orlais and the Chantry's center? I'd heard rumors of the Warden using not one, but two mages in her group to face the Archdemon. True or not, the fact that it wasn't refuted by the Queen or Chantry in Denerim made it believable. Politicians forgot favors a month later, but unpleasant rumors lasted forever among the common people; so Fereldans might tolerate a mage more than other places. No, I didn't think his friends expected him to hare off for the Free Marches and need to know, and why tell him after he quit?

This still left many places in Ferelden for us to look. Denerim and Amaranthine seemed likely, but there almost had to be another closer to the Deep Roads and Orzammar. Darkspawn also came out of the Korcari Wilds, so at least an outpost should be there. We had some time, so avoiding larger cities sounded good.

These thoughts circled as we walked north to the Imperial Highway. Merrill was looking pleased, she had helped her clan that so desperately needed it. I wondered how many they had lost over the decade they had loitered at Sundermount. When we reached Halamshiral, Merrill was welcomed, making me wonder if she might decide rejoin the Dalish or bring more Dalish lore to the Alienages in the future.

Still, she looked happy to have some of her people appealing to her instead of shunning her. The welcome wasn't extending to us shem, so after a really quick private comment to Merrill to meet tomorrow, Anders and I would leave the Alienage to find shelter for the night.

It was getting late when Anders finished healing; we exited the Alienage to look for an inn. We shouldn't look in the parts of the city where the shops were fine, as mercenaries looking for work couldn't afford a better inn. Many large warehouses were hemming in the elven area, even if there was no wall. They were quiet and dark and we didn't have any materials for torches to light our way. It wasn't too bad for me, but I could see that my mage was squinting. He made his staff-spear glow just a little so he could see, just as we had done out in the mountains.

But this was not as civilized a place, and some Templars down what we'd thought an empty street caught sight of him and shouted.

Before I could try to calm this down with some lies or claiming 'glowing magic weapons,' Justice came out making it very bright in the empty street.

No!

This wasn't Justice, this was violence. This was fury and wrath. One of the Templars had taken a swing at me, even if I was only holding my great sword in shock, but Anders stepped closer and blasted them all off their feet before resuming the slaughter.

It was no contest. They died quickly, but they didn't die fast enough. The spirit was toying with them, using his spear cruelly even as they died.

Sickened, I couldn't watch. Then, looking at the expression on their face, I had to try something. Throwing away the great sword to make sure I wasn't looking at all like a Templar, I stepped carefully closer and put my arms around him.

“Anders, stop!” I wanted to shout at him, to shake him, but I didn't think he was in control. I had to get the spirit's attention, and hope I wouldn't become a target. “Justice! They're dead. They can't hurt any more mages. Calm down.”

“They will not stop! How many ages have they maimed and killed the helpless because they could? Attacked mages for simply existing? I will see them pay.” He wasn't merely shouting; his voice sounded like metal on metal.

Glancing at the dead and dying Templars I kept holding him tight, though I didn't doubt he could easily break my embrace. “They've paid all they could now. It's not justice to attack everyone in sight. Remember Ella.”

I hoped Justice remembered that error, at least enough to stop now.

Anders' face shifted and got less angry. Another shift and Anders' brown eyes looked back at me. He looked scared, too. He paled when he saw the bodies and started apologizing, sounding broken. Wanting to hold him until Justice got bored, I couldn't.

I had to admit to myself that I was getting to be afraid of it. I wasn't quite sure if I was afraid for myself, but I was afraid for others.

And then Justice came out again to say, “I'm sorry, Hawke.”

My jaw dropped. This was so... confusing didn't even begin to cover it.

But with the immediate crisis past, I had to get us away from the bodies before any witnesses arrived. We could talk when we had time and privacy. I could panic then.

His voice ragged with unshed tears as he kept apologizing, Anders had sagged until I supported most of his weight. I needed to say something to give him heart, but I couldn't think of anything for what seemed like forever. Wanting to help him, I was beginning to feel like I was becoming his warder, whose purpose was only to prevent him from going on a rampage.

That left me feeling cold and alone while he sounded broken. For the first time, I was doubting my decision in Lowtown. I could not turn my back on him, but we were falling into that abyss and I had no wings.

The silence had dragged, but I repeated my earlier promise made back in happier times, even if I was more worried about us surviving now. “For the rest of our lives.”

He looked almost pathetically relieved and mustered a quip, which relieved me because his spirit had no sense of humor.

I found Celebrant, and put it on my back again. Mercenaries with dried blood on their armor wouldn't attract any notice, but still dripping armor might be connected to dead Templars in the morning. Find water to wash, and an excuse to be wet in the chilly autumn night. The only one I could think of was claiming some nighttime chamberpot out of an upper floor. I'd save that for the innkeeper and order a bath and extra fuel to dry our equipment.

Calling Paws back, he led us to a basin for wagon teams to get the worst of the blood off Anders before we got to an inn. I could only hope they didn't have as dedicated a watch as Aveline had built.

The inn reminded me of the Hanged Man for cleanliness and its dedicated drinkers. I got propositioned and nearly got distracted from my goal into punching the ass. Much fresh water and extra wood for the fireplace and we could do a little washing with the sliver of soap my coppers bought us. Neither Paws nor Mew were interested in being splashed by our efforts and had taken separate dry corners of the room.

Once we no longer had his leather armor to fuss over, the silence changed again and we looked at each other in the firelight. We had to talk, but I had no idea what to say. He seemed to be at a loss too and his gaze grew abstract, like when Justice was active. I would have to wait, and towed him to sit beside me in the bed. It didn't take long. It never did if they weren't interrupted.

Anders' next comments told me that the confusion wasn't only for Justice, and we just held each other until he began to yawn, enough to make his jaw crack. He'd been tired enough before Justice had appeared.

I thought he needed the sleep and whatever the other problems the spirit brought, I wouldn't have to worry about demons tempting them in his sleep. Putting just clothing on, I armed myself and set Paws to guard him. That should give pause to any casual problems. I helped Anders settle to sleep. He still wanted to make use of our privacy, but I suspected he needed the rest more.

When I returned to the tavern room, there were fewer still up. A worn man in heavy plate was drinking at the far end of the bar, sitting next to the arse and glaring at him when I returned. Taking a stool midway, I ordered their version of the mystery stew and an ale, though I was sparing on the drink.

There wasn't much conversation this late, I heard a few complaints about local people, lovers, and taxes... the usual in any bar. No one rushed in with rumors about dead Templars, and no one seemed very worried about mages in revolt. Maybe that wasn't a surprise, as the closest circles were in Val Royeaux and Ferelden.

When I'd finished eating, I asked the plated drinker, “Any work for mercenaries near here? Maybe somewhere warmer? I survived Ostagar, but the winters are getting colder as my scars age...”

He looked surprised. “Maker bless you. There weren't enough to live. Do you know Her Majesty has offered a reenlistment bonus for any survivors who return?”

I surprised myself for considering it for an instant, it would make a good place to disappear. I shook my head. “No, I have to provide support for my family, and I doubt the bonus would be enough. Have many returned?”

“Some,” he said with a small toast. His voice had the faintest of Orlesian accents, but his armor was worn and had no Templar markings. “I hope to make it to Highever and serve with that Teyrn, he served honorably. More so than too many nobles.”

The drunk lifted his head from the bar and made a rude noise, only to be elbowed by the Orlesian.

I had to snicker at the byplay. “I was last in Gwaren, but I've never been in Highever. The Free Marches are insane now. Thanks for the tip.”

An ale for each of them and I listened for more rumors for a little while. Nothing much, aside for a teasing wench that pulled the Orlesian away. The drunk sat up, laughing and ordered another ale before wandering off with barely a stagger.

No one else was still alert except the server, so I went back to our room with a couple of large bowls of stew: one for our pets and one for my sleeping mage.

He was sprawled over the bed, leaving just enough room for me if I wanted to sleep.

Taking his hand loosely, I called his name.

Looking cute and drowsy, Anders reached up to pull me down for a kiss. He then admitted, “I was half afraid you weren't coming back, love.”

Sitting beside him, I didn't want him worrying like that. “I will always return if I am able. I can't imagine... I won't abandon you, ever. If I were, I promise I would tell you first.”

His was a sigh of relief and he ran a hand along my thigh with a smile.

“You should eat first, Anders.” I moved his bowl over to him. He'd been losing weight as we traveled and I would have suggested staying here a few days if we hadn't already run into trouble.

Sitting up, he asked with his own worry, “Did you eat?”

“A bowl like this and an ale.” My puzzlement must have been evident. “I wasn't that hungry.”

“Your armor is loose now. You aren't eating enough, love, not since...” His guilty face made the end of the sentence obvious.

Annoyed, I tried to divert his attention by pushing the bowl closer.

“Dera.” The way he spoke made my name a scold.

I glared at him, almost wanting to dump the stew on his head.

Ruefully he looked at the stew. “I suppose my armor is too.”

I still glared. “Eat first. Then we talk.”

The food almost disappeared magically, though I took Paws outside after Anders had started eating. Soon enough I returned and we nestled together under the blanket. I was exhausted, but we had to talk.

One topic was easier so I started there. “I'm just not hungry. I'm not a warden that I must...”

Anders said with only tired anger, “No, love. You have to eat. Magic can only do so much if you aren't eating.”

“You haven't been eating enough either. You ate so much at the mansion.”

A flare of light and Anders met my eyes before pulling my hand up to where we both could see it. He looked so sad, but said, “Look at this, love. Your bones are showing too much. Your forearm skin is sagging a bit. I know you aren't ill. I should have seen it before, I've seen it in too many refugees in Darktown...”

Looking at his wrist and arm, I saw the same symptoms that he was pointing out on me. Twisting to hold his in his view, I glared at him, daring him to deny how thin he'd gotten. He started to speak, twice, but then examined the veins and weathering in his long hand in almost surprise.

“Fine, I will eat more, if you will, love.” Cupping my face, he looked a little embarrassed.

Now came the topic we were really trying to ignore. I wanted to ask what happened, but I knew already: Vengeance was outraged by the Templars' immediate attack of what could have been an innocent apostate, unable to defend against their smites. That meant the real question was, “What are we to do now? Killing the odd Templar won't solve anything. Justice must know that any major victory requires time, planning, and allies. Who would trust him, trust us, now?”

“I don't know, Hawke,” Anders admitted sadly before putting his forehead against mine. “I fear it would take a miracle for him to remain in any place where the Chantry and Templars have a strong presence.”

Miracles. I could pray for that. But then came a faint memory of a con man selling miracles to a desperate Lowtown crowd around the time I met Anders. We were desperate enough now that I would gladly pay for what they were selling, not that I could believe it truly was available to buy. “We will have to look for something, along with some wardens to send west.”

I had the beginnings of an idea, from things Anders had said and that tale of the fifth Blight I'd read and forgotten most of.

“Dera?” Anders asked with worry.

I wasn't sure if the idea had any merit, or that his spirit would even tolerate the idea. So I put a finger to his lips and said, “Shh, I'm thinking for a moment.”

With a small sigh, he wrapped himself around me and I finally felt safe.

The memory I'd been fishing for surfaced, and I remembered hearing the bare bones of the tale from several places: that book, Varric's storytelling, and mostly Anders' own off-hand comments after that Coterie operation had been shut down. Andraste's Ashes. The most holy relic in Thedas. I could see so many problems, but if the Arl had been in a poisoned coma for months and then well enough to be a political threat soon after... That was physical harm, but this was Anders and even Justice's own selves and spirits. I almost had to laugh at my phrasing.

That brought up the next problem: should I tell him? Would Justice fight this? I had to assume he would. I'd never kept a secret from Anders, but I had to as long as possible. Definitely we had to keep it secret from outsiders. I needed a substitute idea to cover for my thinking... so. “Don't the wardens deal with Orzammar for lyrium and darkspawn?”

His head jerked back. “Maker, yes. The Warden helped put their king on his throne and went far down into their Deep Roads during the Blight. She had been planning an outpost there when she was reassigned.”

I could hope maybe they knew where she was, or I'd have to rely on Anders' memories of camp stories for this. “Think we might meet her there? Or at least some more wardens to send after those darkspawn.”

“I'm not exactly popular with the wardens.”

“We're not exactly very popular anywhere,” I reminded him with a smirk.

Anders' voice had the faintest of smiles. “Dwarves seem to find me amusing. We should go there.”

I could feel myself relax. This would give me time to consider where to go after that. Would I need to find the Warden, who hadn't really been seen publicly after Amaranthine was lost, or would anyone else know how she found a miracle? I needed to find more of the people who knew her than just Anders, people who would have been there.

At least this gave a chance for finding some wardens, and a prayer of finding the Urn. I so wanted to speak with Anders about this bit of desperation, but despite his promise of whatever I decided earlier, I really didn't trust Vengeance would approve. My gut ached, as Anders needed that comfort of hope.

This was a hope, as slim as it was, that I couldn't give to him, and I felt an invisible wall slam down between us. He... they might figure it out, but I didn't know if a spirit could believe in miracles. It did understand threats to its purpose, but would it see me or the ashes as a threat?

“Should I get a dancer's costume to amuse you, love? I used to threaten Oghren with my spicy shimmy...” Anders spoke into my ear before pulling me closer again with some urgency.

I wanted this, I missed having privacy and a bed. I traced over his chest lightly with my fingertips, brushing sensitive spots of old scars. My toes curled from his kisses but when he started to nibble on my earring, I couldn't help feeling like I was reaching through a fog when I touched him. I needed to hold Anders and help him feel better; I wanted to feel safe in his arms. But I could not trust Vengeance as much, and I didn't want Anders to feel alone.

I was surprised when I yawned so that my jaw cracked... and I was almost glad at the distraction.

Pulling back again, Anders' voice was ironic though I could hear his smirk. “Our first night in a real bed for months, and we can't enjoy it?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, trying to clench my jaw so I wouldn't yawn at him.

“Being boring isn't all bad,” he teased. “You should sleep, love. We'll have other chances.”

With one more gentle kiss, he pulled me close again and ran his fingers over my hair until I slept. It didn't take long at all as we snuggled close.

In the morning, his armor had dried beside the fire, and we bought food in the market, before seeking the road going east. When we got to the edge of the town I asked Paws to see if he could scent Merrill. He wasn't really trained for it, but he was far brighter than the usual dog.

My mabari gave one of his happy barks and led us east, where we found Merrill gazing towards the hills that made the Imperial Highway zig-zag like a drunken sailor. I wondered why they did here as we walked in the brisk morning breeze.

Once we were further away from Halamshiral and no one else was in eyesight, talk of weather and road conditions ended. I said, “We were talking last night, and we think there may be a warden or warden outpost at Orzammar. They would know what to do about those tunnels.”

Merrill's relieved smile was brighter than the daylight.

Notes:

A/N: The chapter title is taken from a quote by Helen Keller, on doubt and love. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 22: What Fugitive Can Escape From Himself?

Summary:

Making their way into Ferelden and towards Orzammar to find some Gray Wardens, Hawke, Anders, and Merrill are uneasy with how volatile his spirit is becoming.

Notes:

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

-- East of Halamshiral, the Imperial Highway

Anders:

The Imperial Highway was a lofty height above the marshes. The ground didn't look so very solid from above, and I wondered how far the road was sunken into the bedrock. The highway usually had only slow curves aside from around Lake Calenhad, but now I wondered why it wandered here. Not that I had anyone to ask, so we debated that as we walked towards Ferelden. With the problem I'd had with those Templars, we'd decided without even discussing it to not travel with a caravan. Hawke had given a brief summary to Merrill of the encounter, but that was all.

I'd been so glad that night that she'd stayed despite the fear that I'd seen. But her silences were longer and more abstracted now. Oh, we talked, like we always did on a march, but she was more guarded and there was a distance. I'd warned her so many times, betrayed her, forced her to leave her home and friends, but this distance wasn't just hurt like it was after Kirkwall. It was colder and more calculating than after an argument. We'd find an inn off the highway some nights, but her touch then only gave me small comfort.

I tried not to be hurt that she was keeping secrets, but I missed the very thing I'd ruined.

Now we talked about Ferelden, of Hawke's family moving from place to place, only somewhat less often than Merrill's clan had moved, and for the same base reason. I talked about what I'd done on my escapes, short or long. Merrill and Hawke asked about Amaranthine and the Warden. The storytellers like Varric spoke of someone very different than I knew, and the book Hawke had devoured years ago had more gaps than substance.

Amaranthine was on the other side of the country, and we'd be skirting the lake where I'd spent so many years. I knew more about the towns and countryside around the lake, though I doubted there were many who might recognize me now. It wasn't just my coloring and change of armor, but I'd changed. It wasn't just from Justice. I suspected that I was already changing from meeting the Warden and my duties there, before we even met Justice in the Fade.

I didn't even remember visiting the towns clustered around Calenhad and its rivers, just the scent of fish and bigotry in most of them. The Docks serving the Tower I remembered all too well from being dragged back in chains after each escape. What I knew of them was probably very dated gossip from a book I'd once memorized while planning an escape almost twenty years ago. Some might be gone or greatly changed from the Blight, but I could amuse them with feuds, trade goods known for Silvencoomb, and the scandalous story that Elmcroft-by-the-Calenhad was started by a bastard of Calenhad.

Redcliffe, I'd heard more about than any place other than Lothering much further east. The demon there did nearly as much damage as happened to Lothering during the Blight. That demon possession of a child was not something either Justice nor I wanted to think about when we'd heard the tale.

And now, thinking about my lies about my separating from Justice, I was reluctant to even remember Attryne's story: the tale of the blood mage and a mother's death to save her boy. We had a blood mage with us now, but there was only one person in Thedas who'd consider doing that for me. I didn't want to tell her that tale because I couldn't live with myself if she got the idea to do something that desperate.

So I happily told them about Oghren and Wynne and all the others I knew who had fallen into the Hero of Ferelden's company, even her damn mabari. The last seemed to amuse Paws, because I would swear that he was laughing at me when his tongue was hanging out.

We didn't push our pace, but it was still less than a week until we reached the border town of Maric's Gate. It was mostly a military town to guard against Orlais, with soldiers everywhere wearing uniforms unfamiliar to me. The rest seemed to be all merchants.

There were a few Templars, but far more soldiers everywhere. Hawke was passing through the market, gathering rumors while I played with Ser Mew.

Hoping we could get some bread, enough for a day or two, my attention was on Mew when I caught a glimpse of a squad of Templars, pulling a couple of mages... in chains.

Anger and remembered shame filled me despite the crowded market, and I wanted so badly to shove their chains where they would do the most good. But a small part said not only that this was suicidal with so many soldiers and many in the market were innocents, Hawke chief among them.

But Vengeance was feeding on my own memories of being dragged to a Circle and roaring for control. Crouching as my attention turned inward, I begged him to stop as I felt my skin begin to crack.

I was knocked down by a weight barreling into me.

Shocked briefly, Vengeance paused.

Whispering urgently, Hawke told us, “We can follow them and free them away from here. Then the town guards won't be chasing those children.”

“Yes,” Merrill agreed in a quiet voice. “The one might become a Keeper, if...”

We were still teetering on the edge, when Dera seized my face and gave me a thorough kiss. I felt both warmth and annoyance, but my arms found their way around her. It seemed only a moment until I heard a catcall, but I could breathe again.

With a last caress, I told her, “I like your plans, love.”

Inside was quiet, so we stood up again. Few were even looking at us, and most of those were amused teens. Looking over some of the crowd, I could still see the helms and took Dera's hand with a quick kiss. She guided us after the Templars and whispered to Paws as well.

Walking leisurely, the sods paused to buy something. I didn't really care what it was, but it did mean that we also paused to look at some woven blankets, more suited to the colder winters here. Hawke and Merrill spoke briefly and bought one in an undyed wool. I watched the Templars out of the corner of my eye.

Hawke must have been watching too, as our purchase was complete as soon as the Templars moved. First she, and then Merrill spoke about the color of the weft as we moved after them. It seemed like forever, but the sun had not moved that much in the sky when the Templars had left the city gate, taking the road marked for Jader. Jader was a port city, and they must have wanted to take these mages to someplace where they still had more power.

We dawdled a little, letting the group gain some distance away before we caught up with them. It was easy, and I could feel Vengeance reveling in their deaths. Dera made sure they were quick and efficient and I concentrated on healing Hawke and Merrill.

The best part was that the people I was here to rescue were not cowering when they saw me. Hawke and Merrill split the Templars' equipment for the mages after their chains had been removed. With a smirk, Hawke chained the corpses before dragging them well away from the road. Those with elven blood we sent west to the clan, those without I sent to the Vigil, without revealing my name. They would be safer there, I hoped. I told them to ask for Oghren and Anders, insinuating more than ever was.

I only wished I could see his face when he heard this. Even Justice seemed amused at the idea. I was just happy that I hadn't lost control again and how the tables had turned for those Templars and mages.

The Tevinter Highway continued east, past Orzammar and to Lake Calenhad. On a clear day we might be able to see Kinloch Tower across the water from the road. But the ages since Tevinter first lost the land that would become Ferelden, had not been kind to the highway through the mountains. There were two major breaks in the highway, either from harsh weather or earthquakes. Trade still flowed, but it would take longer than the week implied by mere distance along the road. The largest gap was near where Orzammar was reported to be, and the lack of repairs part of their defenses I thought.

Hawke was still stilted too often, even if we were as close as in Kirkwall at night. Merrill and even Paws were more wary too, but with Hawke it hurt more.

With the extra caution around strangers, we passed through inns and by caravans peacefully enough. The first section of broken road had another road running alongside and there were bridges spanning the gap, bridges that didn't look all that sturdy. Looking down we could see the remains of collapsed bridges, so we followed a caravan down to walk over, on solid ground. The next leg on the highway was uneventful until we ran out of road.

There was a sign pointing southeast for the main road to Gherlen's Pass and the rest of Ferelden. The second sign marked for Orzammar went east and we were the only ones taking it.

This road was well traveled and fairly wide, but it wasn't a stone road bed as I'd gotten used to. Mud and rocks, gullies and even a few barely smoothed wash outs, this was not a road for smooth and swift travel. Our progress slowed as winter wasn't that far off.

Snow had never lingered around Kinloch Tower. We enjoyed playing in it briefly, and our instructors allowed students to melt it. I could see snow all over the rest of the countryside, but I'd slowly forgotten how little travel happened during the winter. There were always so many mages, Templars, and even the occasional visitor. Merrill and Hawke spoke about the problems they had in the winter.

I'd only tried two of my escape attempts in the winter. The earlier one was before I realized I would need extra clothing and equipment. The small fire spell I knew was not a threat to anything larger than a cricket. It wasn't enough to clear my path in the ice or keep me warm. The found me only hours later, huddled under a tree trying to dry enough wood to start a fire to keep warm. I was bruised and sore with a sprained ankle from the ice everywhere. Greagoir had been probably amused at my soggy and shivering self, even if he'd said all the required lectures.

The second time I made it further. It was a little after the coldest part of winter, and I'd used a staff to test the ice as I slid my way across to land again. I got further that time, along the east side of the lake to Elmcroft-by-Calenhad, according to the painted sign by an inn. My clothing fit in by this attempt, but my coins were paltry for the costs and I was locked in a storeroom until someone would come to collect me. The only thing I learned that time was that the village had been founded by a bastard of Calenhad. It struck me as made up history like the forever mythical Ashes.

After that, I decided I'd need less money for my escapes if I could sleep outdoors.

Their travel stories were mostly amusing and filled the time as we got closer to the entrance of the largest living thaig in Thedas. One morning we'd had what Hawke called a dusting snow, but we might have another six weeks, or possibly eight before we'd probably have to take shelter for a month or two. We were only a week or two at most from Orzammar's entrance. Paws didn't mind the cold as we hiked, he actually wasn't panting or slobbering as much which made me happier.

Ser Mew was tucked in a sling along my front, and he seemed to have no urge to go out in the cold breeze. But his purring comforted me as we walked.

There was a village only a few days from the highway with a name of Duck Pier. There was nothing like a pier there, they had streams and wells. The inn had few rooms, as a caravan heading for Orlais seemed to have taken all of them. Talking to the servers, the other road to Orzammar from Ferelden didn't have much of this kind of shipping and no inns. We took shelter above the stable, much warmer than the tent, now that all the leaves had fallen and nights were getting colder. We had much more room than our tent, but about the same privacy.

Hawke and Merrill had packed up some food, on the likelihood that we would not reach shelter tonight. There was a little sun, so it might be a good day for travel and a warmer night than clear skies.

But when we left the inn a semi-circle of people were spread out before us. Some looked local, mostly dwarves who may have been exiled a generation before. Some looked human who had traveled to get here, and one told Hawke and I to surrender. He spoke in an Antivan accent and there was a princely bounty on our heads.

That woke Justice like an avalanche. This fight didn't go as well, some may have gotten away. I know I wasn't sure of the body count by the time we won. I also wasn't sure if any witnesses had heard our names when they were used. Hawke looked troubled and we left the village in a hurry, without ever seeing any ducks.

I would have liked getting a new feather or two.

This time as we traveled, we could hear a group just at the edge of our hearing. With the hills around us, we couldn't even be sure if they were ahead of us or behind us. Justice was vigilant, leaving me jittery from his attention. We'd started seeing more distance markers, made in the dwarven style of rock. Even Merrill had gotten quiet, while Hawke had doubled back silently every so often to try to find the source of the sound.

I'd been worried every time she did, even if I knew she should be fine. Each time with her return, I sighed in relief and pulled her close for a kiss. With every hour my temper got more brittle, so much that we rejected taking shelter with a farmer. It was too obvious a place to be attacked.

We spent a chilly night huddled away from the road on a tiny ledge, without even a fire to keep warmer. They slept the night through. I was exhausted after a couple of nights, but Vengeance was angry enough that we weren't seeking them out that he watched.

It wasn't as good as sleep, but I could still get by.

The third day, Hawke was insistent. “You will sleep tonight, Anders. We aren't covering as much ground, and Maker forbid, what happens if we are attacked and you can't fight as well.”

That only made me smile a little. “Then Justice takes over and burns them to ash. Problem solved.”

“Maybe so, Anders. But what happens if we meet other travelers who don't need to keep warm?” Merrill sounded a little tired too. “We don't know the kinds of travelers who will be at the trading area. Do not Templars want lyrium too? Perhaps someone like a Dalish who has warriors as guards? Might not some refuse us admission if you kill their trading partners in front of them?”

“You must sleep tonight.” Hawke was going past insistent and into angry. All traces of humor and affection were gone from her face, leaving a cold stranger. “You will sleep tonight, even if I have to make it happen.”

Despite my warning her and myself so many times, I was desperate to see Dera in her eyes again. Putting on what I hoped was a roguish grin, I said, “If you sit on me to make me sleep, I don't think either of us will get much sleep.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling now so I could breathe again.

“I think, even with our slower travel, we should get there tomorrow or the day after.” Merrill rubbed her arms. “I really miss our aravels now that it grows colder. I had not journeyed during a winter without them before.”

Raising my attention above where I was stepping and watching for attack, I realized that day we were taking more breaks and going more slowly than the road required. When we made our camp for the night, I settled to sleep next to Dera while she watched with her mabari.

Merrill woke me when the sun was well up. I felt almost rested, and the day's march was much easier. Reaching someplace where we could be warm and alone yet today was very appealing.

A wordless shout from above us came only a fraction of a second before I heard the thrumming of the release of many bowstrings. One tore through my leather armor, reaching flesh, too close to my organs. I heard cries from Hawke and Merrill too even as I spun up my defenses.

The crackle of lightning struck all around us and I heard cries from them as well as at least a score of dwarves charged from cover. They didn't seem slowed and I feared these might be resistant, unlike the surface clans.

Most converged on Hawke with their battle cries as I sent ice in a fan at those attacking me. Those dwarves cursed and called for help. Waiting a few seconds, I called fire down, even if I was feeling lightheaded from casting in the armor. More ice and a blast to get them away from me, and there were still so many...

Merrill was bleeding, and I hoped it was real injuries and not the self mutilation of blood magic. Paws was at the throat of one. Where was Hawke?

More of the dwarves were reaching the area around me, and I could hear the sound of stray arrows. Another fan of ice to slow them, and I saw Hawke on the ground near Paws. No! She can't be dead.

Barely holding control, I ignored my attackers for a few precious seconds. I couldn't revive her that quickly, but I tried to heal her just enough that she'd last until... until.

The blow hitting me felt very distant as I concentrated. But that didn't matter. Vengeance could finish the fight.

Notes:

A/N: The chapter title is amended from a quote by Horace. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 23: Taking Care of Their Souls

Summary:

Their rescuers may want something more from Anders, but Orzammar may be a bit of a haven for Hawke and Anders.

Notes:

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

-- Road to Orzammar

Hawke:

We were a few days out of Halamshiral and our talk about Ferelden and Lake Calenhad had slowed down, and Anders was sitting in front of the fire playing with his kitten. Ser Mew had already lost a little of his fluffy kitten stage in the last few weeks and was busy chasing a feather dangling from a long stick.

It was nice to hear Anders' occasional chuckle, but I didn't miss Merrill's gesture that she wanted to move off to speak privately. I gestured for Paws to stay and guard Anders and moved away. “What do you want to talk about, Merrill?”

“Hawke, you have not been yourself since after my visit with the hahren...” Merrill fiddled with her staff, only slightly visible in the dim moonlight. “While Anders has been very quiet about anything important to him, only telling travelers' tales.”

Dropping down to the ground, I had to sigh. “It's nothing new, Merrill. Justice came out to kill those Templars that attacked us, but there was no warning this time. This wasn't just killing attackers, we've had to do that so many times, it was how he killed them. It scared me a little, and even upset Anders when he saw it.”

“You know that my lore says there is no real difference between any kind of spirit that has walked the Beyond, lethallin. I can see that denying that gives the Circle mages a feeling of safety until it is too late.” She knelt down beside me.

“Merrill, I sometimes wish you and Anders would stop arguing about this point. If the spirits abide by the constraints of the virtues as much as the others seem to relish fulfilling the sins, that concept is useful isn't it?” I couldn't talk to Anders about this as it looked like Justice had a special loathing of being called a demon. So did Anders, but I wasn't sure if it was because he hated demons too, or it was Justice's opinion leaking through.

She shook her head, barely visible in the dark. “This spirit does not seem to have many limits anymore, does he? Anders must keep control every hour of every day. Possessed Keepers have had to be hunted down long before this point. Marethari... she could not have done what she did more than a few months before the truth would be revealed.”

A silence hung between us, and Merrill took a deep breath before speaking again in a very small voice. “You do have a plan don't you, Hawke? You aren't selfishly forcing him to stay here when it is time for him, for them, to move into the Beyond?”

I looked up at the moon for a moment before meeting her eyes. “I have a plan. Actually it's more of a hope. He was drenched in blood after that fight, which scared him. I was never even touched, but he was so worried... He told me explicitly that I should do whatever was needed. I think he expected me to do something else, but I don't think he's a lost cause yet.”

Unsaid was something I prayed would never happen: that he, that they, would truly become an abomination, unable to be reasoned with. I wasn't sure I could give him that mercy. I don't know if I wanted to live after that battle that I'd have to win twice.

“So what does this hope require of you, Hawke?” Merrill asked soothingly with a smile I could hear in her voice.

Relief that she didn't think my opinion was insane made me feel giddy for an instant. “I need to talk to the Hero of Ferelden, or at least others who knew her and of events during the Blight. I think I've gotten all I could learn from Anders without his realizing I'm fishing for information. I need all I can ask safely, without possibly angering his spirit. I hope they might know more about forgotten places they found during the Blight.”

Merrill looked interested. “Oh, yes, that could help me with the assignment that the Keeper gave me too.”

“Wardens do seem to end up in corners forgotten by the rest of us. I don't know if finding darkspawn in most of them is connected, but they seem to pick up odd knowledge, don't they?” I hoped that it was a Warden thing, not an Anders thing.

“That sounds hopeful, Hawke. You won't run into too many of those that stir him up like a hornet's nest. You go back to him. He is better with you, like you were some kind of stuffed... Now what kind of animal would you be?”

“I don't know, I'll go ask him,” I said with a grin as I rose to move back to our campfire.

Anders was listening for me and caught when I returned from Paws' reaction. Beckoning, he only said, “Love.”

“Always,” I agreed, settling very close. “Merrill is trying to figure out what kind of stuffed animal I'd be for you.”

Anders' crack of laughter was music. “A hawk would be an obvious choice, though you have nothing like the feathers you should have. A sad, sad lapse on your part.”

“I'll leave the feathers to you, Anders, you're the one that likes them so much. They'd look silly on me.”

“Maybe a mabari, even if I've never had any urge to cuddle with one.” Frowning a little for a moment, he added, “I prefer cats, but I can't see you as one, grace and sleekness aside. I will just have to settle for the woman and hug the stuffing out of you once in a while.”

His embrace made my ribs creak a little, but the following kiss was fine.

We reached the Fereldan border a couple of days later. I knew it was an important posting with the usually chancy relations with Orlais and the sheer number of soldiers bore it out. The uniforms looked familiar from my time fighting with Carver in the army, but I didn't feel as much about it anymore.

I wondered if Aveline had taken up the offer for recommissioning after Kirkwall. It would be just our luck to run into her here. I was looking for her height as we moved through the crowd and listened for trouble.

Anders' stiffening was my first warning that we'd found it. I glanced to where his gaze was, and saw what possibly would be the absolutely worst thing for him to see: mages in Templar chains. Whatever else had changed, they still bound them like animals or criminals.

It made me sick too, but I could not let him lose his temper now. There were too many innocents in the crowd, even if it was only the handful of children in the market. I had to stop this, because he was already crouching as Justice wanted control.

Throwing myself against him and knocking him to the ground like some overeager lover, I gave him, gave his spirit and him, a sketchy plan that would prevent needless deaths and still free these mages. This close, I could see Fade energies in his eyes, though the fiery blue kept shifting. The spirit wasn't convinced yet.

Holding his face to hide more of that light, I kissed him.

Not that I minded that at all. Anders' arms went around me quickly and I breathed a sigh of relief between our kisses. By the time whistles broke my concentration, my mage's brown eyes showed how smug he could get. I brushed his stubble with my fingertips, so glad I managed to stop a fight. With two powerful mages and myself, we probably would have won. I'm not sure I could take killing so many Fereldan soldiers at the border post. I had sworn an oath for that army once.

Standing up, the prisoner mages were still in sight, and we only needed to follow them discreetly.

Catching up with the Templars was successful and soon there were only dead Templars and freed mages. I think one mage had a case of hero-worship and seemed delighted to go to Amaranthine when Anders told him who to ask for.

I'd been so glad we'd managed to avoid another slaughter that I hugged Anders as soon as the fight was over. We had to divide our supplies with them before they left us. I hoped they found a safe place to live, but staying with us was not safe.

The weather was getting cooler, and I would be glad to replenish our supplies in a village I saw ahead of us. It was supposed to be the last village before Orzammar on the map, but colder weather was arriving so much earlier than I was used to now. Kirkwall had been warmer than Lothering.

The village was named for ducks, the kind of bird that seemed in short supply here. I was pretty sure they'd already flown north for the winter. We also found a large and well armed caravan, leaving for any one of the human nations that surrounded Orzammar. I wondered if they were moving precious metals or lyrium, but the foul tempered guards didn't encourage any interaction.

Since the traders got here first, they already had all the rooms. The merchants, lanky sorts named Mikhael and Leond argued about their path. I couldn't decide if they were related or lovers. I could only get us some shelter up inside the barn. It didn't bother me that much, as it had been an exciting and daring place to sleep when I was a child.

And it would be a bit warmer than our tent and we could cuddle away from Merrill's view. When we got to the barn, Anders wasn't that pleased to see that the loft was built into the side of the hill, so Paws could join us. Still, Mew stalked off after some rodents before we slept.

We got ready to leave in the morning but an Antivan led a crowd to attack us as we left the village. Most were dwarves or just foolish. He'd underestimated us badly. I supposed he thought defeating the Qunari attack was easy and he could collect whatever bounty the Divine or Sebastian were offering. And the fools thought numbers alone would give them victory or that they weren't disposable to their leader. I could pity them, but I wasn't going to let them kill us.

Moving on in a hurry, I thought we weren't the only ones moving towards Orzammar, but I never saw anyone. I heard too many sounds coming from the wrong direction. I didn't want to think I was getting as edgy as Anders had been the last few months in Kirkwall, but I was feeling it too.

And Anders? He had gone far beyond me in paranoia, and after two days of ever more hidden camps, he looked a wreck. I didn't think he'd slept since the bounty hunter found us. Every time I stirred at night, he was alert and soothed me back to sleep. I wasn't always that alert when I woke and felt guilty in the mornings on seeing him.

The next night after a brief argument, Merrill and I split watches while Anders slept almost like the dead. He looked better, and we packed up for our travel. The frost had been a warning that we shouldn't dawdle too much if we didn't want to stay in Orzammar for the winter.

Paws growled a moment before I heard the sound of many bow strings letting loose. I was only grazed, but I scanned those closing on us, looking for the leaders. I delayed almost an instant too long, and hastily dropped a grenade to provide me some cover to divert attention. That gave me the seconds I needed to find a warrior with better armor and shield.

I managed to backstab her, a clean hit and she went down. Unfortunately several more were close and one hit me with what felt like a big tree branch and I lost my footing with my head ringing for a long instant. Lightning arced down from the sky from Merrill as I blinked. I heard shouts and battle cries from all around me as I looked for my next target. I managed to shake it off and attacked another with two blades. They were too many and I tossed one of my few grenades straight up in the air as they were still converging on me. I could only pray that they'd take the worst of it as I was inured.

A spike rammed into my side told me I was wrong. The shouts were getting quieter and the ground was so solidly supporting me.

I still felt empty when the sounds around me came into focus, enough that I could hear Anders' howl. His shout ending with the interrupted grunt of him being hurt. I couldn't move, jump up to help or see what was happening. All I could see was an unmoving leg and some rocks.

His next shout scared me as I got cold, so cold before hearing new shouts.

The new shouts must have been friendly as one woman's voice ordered. “Drink a healing potion, duster!”

I still couldn't move through endless moments and arms lifted me up enough to coax a potion into my mouth.

Merrill encouraged me. “Drink this, lethallin. We found some Gray Wardens.”

Partly upright, I could see Anders was on his knees, covered in his own blood and looking dazed. But he lived and breathed.

The handful of Wardens, all in the blue and starred uniforms my sister wore, except for the dwarven one who was giving the orders. She turned to Anders once they'd finished, her facial tattoos looking oddly like a skull, and said. “Well, Sparklefingers, you went and did become political despite all your denials.”

I wasn't sure if she was angry or not at him and began to struggle to my feet. I only relaxed after he spoke.

Anders' voice almost sounded grave when he said tiredly, “You just want to see me eye to eye.”

Her laugh finally let me truly relax. “Didn't expect to find you out on a patrol, Anders. Is this your Calling?”

Already pale from his exhaustion, Anders still managed to blanch. “Maker, no. I won't take non-Wardens on that trip. You know how I hate the Deep Roads, Sigrun.”

The other Wardens watched our group with differing shades of suspicion. There were only three of them, but they were barely marked by the ambushers even if I could see a lot of melting ice scattered around. Merrill and Paws looked well enough, though she had blood on her. I felt a little sad that my first thought was that she was doing blood magic again, but I was not going to ask.

“Then what are you doing here?”

He looked at me and smiled slightly. “We went into a set of ruins to retrieve something for Merrill here. Inside is this huge spider-like guardian that is keeping some darkspawn penned in. It needs to be investigated and that should be for a larger group of Wardens.”

“Hah, I'd bet Oghren that we'd see you again, doing Warden duties. You can't escape it.” She crowed and playfully punched his arm.

Just kind of absorbing the punch with a wince, Anders complained with the tiniest of smiles, “I'm trying to, just not very well.”

“Well, we'll need to get back to the outpost and update our maps with that location. You're a popular fellow, mage, and I'd like to hear what happened since I saw you last.” Her voice turned serious, even if not menacing.

“I need to rest,” Anders admitted. “It's harder to do magic in this armor and I'm exhausted.”

Pulling him up by his belt, Sigrun smiled in a friendly manner. “Bhelan granted us Wardens our own tunnel-hall, outside Orzammar proper, so I can assign you some rooms while you're here.”

Barking a tired laugh, Anders was surprised. “You? You're commanding, or are you the butler?”

“Being some fancy butler would be a lot more fun some days. I thought I wouldn't have to worry about politics when I joined the Legion... or the Wardens. Shows how young I was still. And you?” She paused on seeing Anders do a jaw-cracking yawn. “Well, we can talk later.”

Sigrun led the larger group along the road and it was only an hour when we reached an open bowl tucked next to this huge and grand doorway into the mountain. We'd passed statues of dwarves as we got closer, but the road never quite reached the finished polish that the Imperial Highway had. The bowl looked like a kind of market, and there were some buildings made in the human style, but they now looked flimsy compared to the massive structures in Kirkwall and the Door itself. Still there were more temporary merchant stalls that I doubted would last until the second big snow.

The other wardens, two dwarves and a human, hurried ahead to a smaller doorway with a griffin carved above it. Following the Wardens, I ended up supporting Anders once we got inside. Merrill had been pleased at having her own quarters. I got Anders washed and settled in the bed inside the room that one of the uniformed Wardens led us to. Anders dozed off even as I got his bloody and grimy things off of him and tucked him in.

I washed myself and my armor too, and put on my Champion armor. I wasn't sure if it was for necessity, or that I somehow found the armor a comfort now. I used my damp towels to wipe off Paws, but then found myself too restless to sleep even if it was a real bed.

When I stepped outside our quarters, Sigrun was leaning against the wall there. No one else was visible.

“So you are the Champion,” Sigrun said with a cheerful smile. “I really would not have expected Anders to fall in with another leader like the Warden, nor rebel quite so much.”

Looking back at our room, I suggested, “I'd rather you do this catchup when Anders is awake.”

Her smile faded a little before it broadened. “Fine. We will all talk later. Though I will admit I was surprised when I heard from other Wardens that he was in Kirkwall and wasn't still plowing every field away from the Circle he could find.”

I only blinked, as at first I nearly missed the allusion. I wasn't sure how to take that. Usually comments were nasty ones, or kidding and concern from friends. Anders wasn't quite as prickly as when he'd met Stroud or Nathaniel, so she must have been a friend.

Not that I was actually thinking that for the first seconds after she said that. My jaw had dropped and my mouth may have actually hung open.

Sigrun giggled while looking at my face. I'd never heard another Warden giggle, my sister hadn't.

Once my jaw worked, I said, “He wasn't like that at all when I met him in Kirkwall. He'd back away from even flirting for years.”

That made her look at me in surprise. “Hmm, that doesn't sound like the mage I knew. How about I give you a guided tour of the market inside Orzammar? That's not usually available to humans or elves, unless they're Wardens.”

Relieved at the change in topic, I agreed. Our entrance into the dwarven thaig, the most prosperous and largest, was almost anticlimactic. Sigrun was greeted by name or as Warden and I was mostly ignored. Looking out over the bustling and echoing market, I had the very odd feeling of being the tallest in the room. This wasn't exactly a room, more like one of the largest spaces I'd even seen. I was underground, under a mountain actually. This was the first place where tons of rock overhead didn't, quite, make me cringe while waiting for rocks to start falling.

We talked a little as we looked at what the merchants had for sale, partly about mabari and Paws. Sigrun had only met a few over the years, as few Wardens had mabari before they Joined. With that comment, she changed the talk away from Wardens and Joining, and I didn't think it wise to admit that Anders had told me much.

I heard too much of the sounds of commerce all around us to panic just now, and paused to smile down at Sigrun as we walked. “I'm not that used to being underground and not having darkspawn lining up to kill me.”

I'd been glad to see that like Howe, she didn't feel the need to be in the blue and stars uniform. I know I had mixed feelings about it, because Anders hated what it represented to him and I suspected that it would look good on him. Bethany had always wanted to feel part of something bigger than our shrinking family, part of something better. I shuddered now to think if she'd been in the Gallows bodies Orsino 'harvested' at the end.

Sigrun grinned up at me, “Sometimes it takes me weeks to relax up here again. It's so bright!”

“Not to forget noisy,” I admitted, putting my hands over my ears for a second. “Ogres and other darkspawn are all 'rarrgh' and roars, until they finally die, aren't they? Quiet is good, darkspawn make the oddest gurgles when they die someti...”

Sigrun'd stopped in front of a merchant's table, and smiled at him.

“Wardens! Honored to supply you with the best in weapons and... fine jewelry, much finer than the damaged things you might find in your duties.” The merchant smiled at us, and then more at Sigrun.

I was about to correct that when she elbowed my leg.

“We do want to see your weapons, Legnar, and anything new in the way of traps. My friend here, has some loot off a skirmish too,” Sigrun said while examining some trip wires nearly hidden under a pile of daggers in many styles.

That prompted me to start bringing out the things I was planning to sell, including a few things too expensive to sell since we left Kirkwall. He wasn't interested in where they came from, and provided me enough gossip on the King here and his policies that were ruffling the clans. Legnar was scandalized that there was even talk of allowing surface clans to be remembered, or get respected.

Bartrand was an impatient fool, but I was sure Varric would find this ironic if he didn't already know. Time could win him all his brother lusted for, as little as Varric did.

Legnar didn't care about Towers or Grand Marches or Qun, only buying and selling. I was selling and I bought a few things too, mostly parts for grenades. One set of armor looked better than what Anders had, so I'd have to ask him later if he wanted it.

We visited more dwarven merchants for several hours and I bought some potions, mostly stamina ones. One tried to pressure Sigrun and I into teaming in a special proving in the Warden Commander's honor, but she stopped smiling and slapped that down before we moved on.

“What was that about?” I asked her once we left and went above ground again. “What's a proving?”

“Blood sport to amuse the commons, and let the rich bastards prove who's got the deeper vein,” she said with a grin. “If we decide to clean up on the betting we can enter. It's better if they don't know who you are when they place their bets.”

“I'm not some duelist or mighty warrior,” I objected. “Varric Tethras did a lot of embellishing in his stories. We all worked together for combat, unless we were bickering and threatening each other. Isabela is the duelist. I don't fight for honor or inside silly rules,”

“That's fine, not that there are many rules in a Proving. We can think about it later, if someone offers us enough of a temptation to enter. No one here doubts that it was a Blight.” Sigrun was annoyed for only an instant, but then grinned again. “Since you're not a Warden we can get better odds if we let that fact out before the match. Not many want to bet against me or my students anymore, but they don't think much of humans as fighters.”

Thinking about how spare our purse had been, I changed my mind and said, “Maybe we should, as long as it's not to the death.”

Clapping her hands together, Sigrun looked eager. “Maybe can make arrangements with the Proving Master that Sparklefingers is allowed to prevent death. Not that I'm worried, since your armor won't look like proper protection to them.”

With that, we reached the smaller archway into the Warden tunnel with the griffin rampant over it. Once inside, Sigrun breezily ignored the young dwarven warden on duty as we passed him. Once in the hall I looked towards the tunnel where our room was.

Sigrun waved at me and said, “Go, find Sparklefingers, he owes me a drink and a sovereign still.”

Now that we were inside and I wasn't rushed with a collapsing mage, I saw the halls were whitewashed with the occasional wooden beam, maybe in deference the humans and elves for this post. I threaded my way back to Anders' particular assigned cave, through tunnels that tried to look above ground and bright. I really thought I'd find Anders sleeping, with Ser Mew napping on him.

No, he was sprawled out only partly under a blanket and humming, playing with a strand of his hair for a long moment. In the low light, the deep blue blanket was wrinkled and gathered around him as he lazily rubbed his chest. His skin glowed bright blue where the liquid flowed so slowly.

When I stepped inside and shut the door, I couldn't move. The glow outlined his muscles and bones, just a little. I knew what his skin felt like, the old scars and the often too-lean muscle. Looking back at his face, his was an easy, inviting smile.

Moving for the first time since I entered, his hand shifted, pressing down and the glow followed his fingers down his chest and belly. The luminescent liquid or salve dribbled off his side as he breathed, and he groaned as our eyes met again.

Whatever else was different in all the time since Kirkwall, only one thing stood out to me right now.

He smiled.

This was a happy smile, happier than I'd ever seen, his eyebrows didn't even droop like they so often had. I'd thought that was just his facial structure. But no, it was from all that had happened to him. Maker help me, he was happy now, more than for so long now...if ever that I knew him. My throat tight, I was having trouble breathing. Anders was happy and calm. It was obvious that Justice didn't disapprove of this 'distraction.'

Every bit of my self control, won hard from bluffing Templars and Varric was barely enough to keep my face calm.

Anders' fingers reached out, beckoning me and saying in a coaxing voice, “Hawke.” His lips were almost white from whatever he'd imbibed, and his irises were glowing blue. But Anders' skin wasn't cracking like when Justice was out and his smile was almost beatifically happy.

I smiled back at him, happy that he was happy; enough so that I could smile even as I let my eyes half close to hide my uneasiness. My eyes filled as I stepped lightly closer to sit on the edge of the bed. I could not look at his face for a moment as I blinked my suddenly painful eyes. My only thought kept circling: he was happier just now, when I was away, than he was with me for so long now. His being a mage had never loomed as high over me before.

Dregs of his affection would break me, but... I couldn't think beyond that. I didn't know if I was strong enough to see him go.

He rubbed his chest again and and the glow spread a little more and I could almost hear a purr as he moved so slowly and sensually.

"Love, 'Better come drink sweet dreams with me, face to face we'll get mellowly drunk," he said in tones so warm it almost hurt. Reaching out, he ran his hand from my knee to my hip in a familiar caress that made me lean closer without thinking.

I ran my hand along his arm, being careful to only touch where he wasn't glowing blue like lyrium, or an even brighter white. I shook my head and said nothing, though I still smiled a little. I didn't want to spoil his mood with my sudden melancholy, and I didn't trust my voice right now.

He trailed the glowing further, and I was fascinated with how specks of lyrium glowed between his chest hair and how tiny bits collected in his belly button. Squirming, he moaned the tiniest bit again, and I looked at his face for the first time in some minutes, blinking at his intent stare.

I loved seeing him like this, happy and at peace. Void take it, I'd never seen him this relaxed, and I felt my smile fade a little more.

“Dera,” Anders said in a seductive voice that made me shiver every time. Then his free hand slid up and grabbed my tunic and pulled me down with a sharply for a kiss.

A crashing of something small and tinkling glass on the stone floor got my attention, but I would swear he almost purred again as I turned my head to look. He started licking above my ear and mewed when I started to get off the bed.

“Anders, you're barefoot and bare arsed,” I said with a reluctant smile as I got up on my knees and felt around for more vials. “I want to clean it up before we forget. How many vials were there here in the blankets?”

“Four I emptied...” he admitted with a pout and reached for me again. “I want to share this with you, love.”

I evaded his reach, but caressed him before moving away to look for something to clean up with, “I need to collect the glass.”

“Then take off your boots, and shirt, and... Never mind, I'll help you with all that, Hawke,” Anders smirked from behind me.

Between the glow from the lamp and from Anders, I didn't have much trouble sweeping up while he kept quiet.

When I turned about, he'd pulled another glass vial from somewhere; drinking a sip, he poured out the rest onto himself to play with. He held the empty glass in one hand, making more glowing trails, humming contentedly.

Licking a finger off suggestively, he asked with a playful growl, “Wanna play?”

My breath catching again, I had to remind myself why it was a bad idea. “I don't think so.” I could say it with regret about something, another thing, we couldn't share. Would we have anything in common if he was freed from Justice? Would he remember me or again become the butterfly he'd described himself as, that Sigrun remembered so well a decade later? I wasn't some fair flower to attract someone like that as he fluttered free again. I'd had a life of tragedy and sacrifice, not flirtations and it showed.

Not that it mattered at this point. He'd burn himself out in some way if Justice couldn't settle so it had to be done, whatever the cost to me. Still I had to remind him that the lyrium was a poison to me, and I carefully took the glass from his hand to place on a table. “It is lyrium, right?”

“Oh,” he said with his face almost comically sinking when he remembered. “It's so much fun, and we never had enough to spare before. I think Justice is intoxicated, he's almost purring. Drink wine with me?” he finished hopefully.

Snagging a towel, I returned to the bed to give it to him to clean off the potions so I could join him. I undressed, desperately wanting to not disrupt his cheer. Mine was broken enough, even though I hoped he wouldn't notice in his state. “I'd be happy to drink wine with you, love, even if you are intoxicating enough.”

Anders' smile returned, brighter than the lyrium again.

Notes:

The chapter title was adapted from a quote by Christopher Forrest McDowell. Anders' rather learned quote when he's drunk is adapted from a poem by P Chü-I. One scene was inspired by a sketch posted by hawkeward on Tumblr on August 20, 2011.

 

Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 24: Taste No Other Wine Tonight

Summary:

The ambush outside Orzammar pushed Anders, until others intervened. A Warden outpost might offer them a brief haven.

Notes:

The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.

-- Orzammar, Grey Warden Outpost

Anders:

During the ambush I knew I bled, but I'd stabilized Hawke, enough for that moment. Now we had to win the battle and I reached, demanding more from Justice. There were too many if I couldn't deal with them quickly enough, so I summoned as much ice and cold as I could, praying and channeling energies in almost forgotten ways. Our enemies slowed as frigid winds hit them and ice formed even as they attacked. Slowing them gave me more time for other spells and even using my staff-spear with growing exhaustion.

Merrill was still casting when I heard more shouts and battle cries. Only as the first two slammed into our attackers, did I realize those were cries for the Grey. They were Wardens, I could feel it. Seeing the blue uniforms on them only confirmed what any Warden could tell by instinct in the dark of the Deep Roads.

They surely could feel I was too, unless they were very new. They weren't many, but that didn't matter for Wardens, and our attackers died quickly.

The bigger surprise was that I knew the one commanding them, someone I hadn't really expected to meet again. Sigrun was the most cheerful dead woman I'd ever met. By some miracle, she didn't decide that I deserved to die too when we spoke. I needed rest so after so much magic in the wrong armor; all I needed was sleep. Instead we got a quick march to Orzammar and Hawke was nearly carrying me when we reached some underground room with a real bed.

I didn't even remember undressing when I woke in that bed.

My thoughts had been foggy earlier, but now I was worried about dealing with Wardens again. No one had clapped me in irons on my arrival or while I'd slept, that had to be good. But now what would happen?

Mew woke enough from my motions that he wanted some attention, but Paws was gone, as was Hawke. Did I trust Sigrun? I felt only a mix of respect and annoyance but no anger from inside.

I dressed and put Mew on my shoulders as I prepared to look for Hawke, and maybe something to eat. They had to have food here somewhere.

Turning right outside the door, I found Merrill in a larger chamber. The room looked like a worn common room in an inn, with a few more homey touches. Tables and benches, as well as a couple of bookshelves with odd-looking tomes were scattered around the vaulted room. She had a few of the books beside her on the floor as she pored over a smaller one.

“Are any of those Dalish in origin?” I asked her.

She looked up and smiled. “I cannot be sure. This one does not match the lore I have been taught. It is a short treatise on some kind of arcane collection of abilities to strengthen a mage. The source was described as an ancient ruin of the People. There is no author listed and the binding has a griffin on it. Still it speaks of ancient ehlvan as 'elves' so it was done by a human. It is a fascinating puzzle, as some of the concepts are very much of how we are trained, not what humans would know.” Then she frowned and said with disapproval, “Of course it could be false delusions by some human.”

I had to smile, as her seeking lore didn't bother me at all, compared to her dealings with demons and blood magic. When I stepped over to peek at what she was reading, the writing was more in brief summaries and raw facts. Hints, but not the entirety. What almost made me laugh was that the handwriting was familiar to me. “I suspect it's not complete because the Warden who found it, recorded everything they learned without truly understanding parts. Wardens really don't work against each other on anything having to do with combat. Their lives depend on each other too much. It may be incomplete, but not wrong.”

Looking excited, she said, “I will need to copy this at least once. Are we staying that long?”

Shrugging I admitted, “I don't know, maybe long enough for one copy.”

Rising gracefully, she started chattering about finding materials to make a master copy at least and said she was going outside to the merchant stalls. That left me alone with Mew. I found another Warden, who was disapprovingly polite, but he did point me towards food.

And thank the Maker, I was directed towards a supply closet. I could collect things I needed, for combat and even for drinking, here between missions. Posted there were strong warnings about reselling supplies. Hawke might like some, even if I might only sip.

What made parts of me sing was an ample supply of lyrium flasks, dozens of them. I looked around, wondering if anyone was watching me. Then I scooped an armload and hurried back to our room to look at my booty. I almost felt guilty, but I left most of the vials.

Some.

No, I didn't feel guilty.

I could feel that Justice wanted some. I was still a little tired from casting and drank one.

Justice hummed in the back of my mind, and I remembered how much he liked that ring that the Warden gave him. I wondered what had happened to it when we fled Amaranthine.

My hands moved out without my intention and I asked, What are you doing?

I can feel the Fade with this. He almost sounded hesitant with a kind of echo.

So I let him go as he drank another potion... and then another. I felt warm, like I'd had a bottle or two, and we moved off to the bed to play with the next potion. The potion glowed with the bright blue light of pure lyrium.

I did not trust nor did I want to use lyrium potions made from the red lyrium I'd seen under Kirkwall. I'd never seen or heard of it before. I tried convincing other mages, but I had no evidence for my disquiet. I wondered if my word now about what Meredith had become with that tainted lyrium would carry any weight, but that faded into my pleasure at watching the liquid flow.

These potions had flecks of the bright and glowing blue in a viscous suspension. That material was the only secret about making lyrium potions, really. It had to be thick enough that the lyrium didn't settle out of the mix and not so much that it couldn't be swallowed. Some have used honey, but that had its own problems, like it attracted ants. The metal flakes gave it a bad enough flavor, that the addition of half a mouthful of ants looking for the honey made it much worse.

This didn't taste too bad, but it wasn't honey-based. I would have to find out what was in it, in case I had to make my own potions again. I pinched the liquid between my fingers, enjoying how it clung. I realized I was humming, but that didn't matter as I watched how the light reflected off my skin and the shadows of my scars.

I heard the door unlatch and Hawke entered with her dog. I hadn't noticed, but the room was brighter now when I looked at them. She looked different somehow, more like how I had seen her in the Fade, her hair darker, armor heavier and blood spattered. But still this was my Hawke and my skin vibrated when she entered the room with every thought and daydream I had for years. With all the lyrium in me now, she... we were in a timeless now that hadn't happened, was happening now. My hopes, my dreams, my love, I was so happy she was here with me. We had all the time in the world.

Her thoughts were on outside things, but I could be patient. I wanted her to see me as I saw her now, like the purity of the Fade but as real as the broken glass she was collecting. I had a seed of fear that what she saw would not be as joyful for her, but I could only feel hope... I was entirely a creature of hope right now, a distant hope for the future and hope for right now and sharing with my love.

Dera reminded me about it being lyrium and unsafe for her.

Justice sounded amused to my inner ear. She cannot subsist on the stuff of the Fade like a mage at a bowl of fresh cream.

Her being careful with the potion I had been playing with, made more sense suddenly and I wished there was some way we could.

I wanted her to be happy.

Happy like we were right now, not the tense and pinched forehead she'd had for weeks and months. I almost frantically cast about in my head looking for some way and could only think of getting her drunk.

Saddened and worried a little that she couldn't be happy with me, I was so relieved when she agreed to drink wine with me.

I didn't need much, but she did relax at least some before we made blissful love.

When I woke later with a headache that oddly echoed three times with every tiny sound, her constant worry weighed on me even more.

The headache did not respond to a healing spell, but I cast one for Hawke and she hummed in her sleep. She nestled closer, even asleep, relieving my fear a little. Enough that I could sleep again too.

Hawke woke me later, fully dressed.

“Come on, sleepyhead. I think Sigrun wants to talk to you.” Dera twirled her fingers around one of the braids in my hair.

I smiled before I was even completely awake, even with Hawke's warning. Underground like this, I had little idea what time of day it was, but this might be the first time I was happy while in a cave. I didn't feel any darkspawn anywhere close, and this place was newly carved without links to their tunnels.

Maybe this was just a carryover from last night, but I wasn't that worried about Sigrun either. “We can eat first, love. Wardens know food is important when you never know when you'll eat next.” I sat up and looked around.

The towels Dera had used last night were thrown into the corner near a washstand, and I could still see bits of lyrium glow. Looking down at myself I wasn't glowing, but there were spills all over the bed still. Worried suddenly, I pulled Hawke closer to examine her, especially her eyes.

There was the faintest trace of the haze in her eyes. I'd seen that haze much more often in Ferelden, but I knew she was careful to avoid lyrium. Remembering last night, she had to have gotten it from me. How much lyrium had I taken? My spirit was quick to tell me it was five. Five, and I hadn't used it for magic. Oh, Maker.

I'd never tried this or even wanted to, but I stood and took her over to a bench. “I'm sorry, love.” I scanned her, noticing where there were the most traces of lyrium in her system, where it had been partly absorbed by surrounding tissues. Absorbed but not used, like it was for me.

“What's wrong?” She sounded worried.

I cupped her cheeks and traced my thumbs over her tattoos, looking into her eyes which should have been her normal mossy green, but weren't. I had trouble saying it. “I poisoned you, a little, last night, and I have to try to heal it.”

“Oh. I see.” Her understanding showed in her eyes.

The only way I could think of was to use the mana in her flesh as part of my healing of her. It was like when I'd had to be careful to not do that when healing the elf. I looked in her eyes after I cast the healing spell on her, and they looked better. I supposed all Templars could have been healed if they were treated by healers the next day. But I really doubted many left healers willing and able very often.

My perception narrowed and I grasped the lyrium inside her again and again to drain the Fade-enegry, leaving only the metal bits to pass. I wasn't exactly tired when I finished, but I had a headache. Her eyes were green again and I hugged her tight.

Hawke looked into my eyes and said with a slight smile, “I guess next time you decide to overindulge in lyrium, you'll have to sleep alone.”

I had to laugh. “I doubt it will happen very often. I don't think anyone would expect that I would grab as many potions.”

“Anders... if you are going to steal, you really need to plan it so it's less obvious. Do you know how many Warden mages are staying here right now?”

Given the way my luck ran sometimes my answer had to be one thing. “Uh, none?”

“Very good, mage.” Hawke's lips were twitching with her amusement.

I washed and dressed in a hurry, putting on my own armor though only Paws wanted to come with us. No one here would be fooled by my role of a fumbling mercenary. There was ample food in a large kitchen, dried if we didn't want to cook. Some had been put aside and marked for mabaris. I'd never mastered that many recipes, all were for practical foods. I could have, if I had the time, never became a Warden or then fought for mages. Potion recipes would not be more complex than food. There was more than enough to cobble together a good meal.

After I gobbled down enough to really feel full, rare for me, I realized they had finished eating a time before. Even the dog had. “Sorry, love. I guess I was reminded of the Warden appetite...”

Hawke half-smiled. “That's fi...”

“Did Sparklefingers ever tell you about how he'd disappear for a couple days into his quarters with his favorites, some wine bottles, and a few cured ham quarters? The Warden started to wonder if we'd have to break the door in and only find withered corpses.” Sigrun arrived and built herself a plate of food.

Justice rumbled inside me, he'd scolded me then, especially if I missed a mission. But I rarely did.

Grinning, I shook my finger at her. “I think I got pretty good at guessing how long she'd disappear when that other Warden visited with messages.”

She laughed as picked up and weighed her plate. “That you did. Even if that left me with Oghren's crude comments and disapproval from the others. You owe me for that alone, I couldn't even read sometimes when that Dalish and Howe started complaining about you.”

Sigrun looked around the empty and open room and said, “We have more to speak of, in privacy.”

Her office looked like a cross between a library and a merchant's shop that sold oddments. One table had a pile of locks, and Hawke's gaze drifted towards them at least twice before we all settled on some chairs in front of the desk.

Sigrun ate a few bites before turning to place the plate on the desk behind her. “Okay, Anders. I don't know much about when you left Amaranthine. I do know there was a furor... the First Warden's representative, the Warden, even some Chantry-folk in Amaranthine made for quite a shouting match from what I heard. I do know after that the Warden was removed from command, officially and permanently that time, of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. But she was still Arlessa when she was ordered to Weisshaupt. We were told not to expect her back at a posting in Ferelden. Was it worth it?”

Her question had been slid in with the other comments, all with the thread of anger, and I didn't recognize it at first. “What?”

Hawke gripped my hand, but stayed quiet.

“Whatever the reason was that you slaughtered a whole bunch of humans and fled.” My friend Sigrun wasn't amused and wasn't smiling now.

“You ask as if I had a choice that day. Ambushed like any mage, despite being their 'brother,' he and his friends had been Templars and minions of the Chantry, not Grey Wardens that day. I was still Warden and healer and this should have been resolved with my conscription and Rylock.” I felt outrage as myself and from within. “They wanted to kill me, right then and there, and nearly did.”

Brushing off Hawke's attempts to calm me, I wasn't that kind of angry and took off my shirt. The scar was big and ugly, and they both knew how well my healing usually prevented that.

Sigrun winced at seeing it and leaned forward to see the old scar tissue larger than my heart.

Hawke put an arm around me and gave me half a hug. I didn't normally like the feel of her champion armor against my skin, but I met her eyes sadly as I put my arm around her.

“Why didn't you stay?” Sigrun's voice had a new emotionlessness to it.

My old anger had burned out, so much else had happened since then. “Before this, Jean-Maurice had made it very clear he favored the Chantry in this, the Orlesian bastard. If the Warden-Commander of Ferelden wasn't going to support his mage, who would?”

“What about Justice? We'd spoken about his being slain here. Well, after I returned his ring.” Sigrun's voice may have lightened a little, but her eyes were still narrowed.

“I remember.”

She looked sadder but said, “So Roland was right, that you did become one of those abominations, someone possessed by a demon.”

“I am not a demon, Warden.” Justice was angrier, but not violently so.

I realized Hawke was rubbing my back and we turned to look at her.

“Burned remains of a tent, melted armor, bodies torn limb from limb... how is that very different, Justice?” Sigrun was sounding angry. “You probably don't want me to name the other ones who can kill like that.”

Hawke's eyes showed again her uneasiness from Halamshiral, but I turned to look at the dwarf.

“We defended ourselves from Templar attack, mages are not... nugs to be put down at whim. We... I wanted to help the mages, who suffer under injustices. They hate, they fear, they hunt mages, even the harmless ones. We are not harmless.”

There was a long moment of silence while we looked at Sigrun. I wasn't thinking much, and only wondered in a distant way what she was thinking.

Finally she smiled, “Well, you can still make jokes, Sparklefingers. So you aren't one of those things that we'd killed by the dozens, even if you've lost all your dress sense. What's with all that black, anyway? I don't think humans have funerals for their Wardens like we do when we join the Legion, do they?”

Maker, that might have been where the idea came from. I made... I wore what I wanted for my funeral? Not Chantry-like robes or even Tevinter style, but something else. I prayed something else could be born from what we did.

I floundered, as I didn't want to say this in front of Hawke and make her worry about it now. Sigrun would probably understand it better than me. “It might be... have been a bit like that.”

“He did have a blue and gray set of robes he wore for years, but during his upgrades, bits kept changing or getting stained. I do like how he looks in blue better...” Hawke confided to Sigrun fondly.

Sigrun grinned, “There is Gray Warden armor. I'm sure we could have a set made up for him.”

“No uniform. I'm not a Warden now.” I didn't even think before I objected.

Sigrun snorted but let it go. “So that's why you left, what brought you back again? A darkspawn nest?”

A little to my relief, she and Hawke took over the conversation, talking about the spider-like construct and the spawn that had been blocked inside those ruins. They both pulled out their maps, compared and marked them on various points of interest after the ruins and markers for finding them were already noted. I was very glad they were getting along, that Sigrun didn't sound like she was reporting me.

Sigrun's map was much more detailed on the Fereldan side of the mountains, and she was narrating some of the places she'd been since reaching the surface. Most I'd been to or heard of: Silvencoomb, Haven, Cragscar, and Redcliffe. Sigrun hadn't been further east very often since I saw her last.

When they'd settled to swapping tall stories and techniques for dagger fighting ogres, I'd settled back only to listen for a while. I'd spoken only when Sigrun challenged one of Hawke's stories of our finding an ogre frozen solid like a kind of ice statue. She wanted Justice to verify it was true.

After a while, I noticed Paws look up and give a whuff. Head butting my knee, he glared at me for a moment. Hawke was just turning her attention towards us when everyone could hear a meow from the hallway.

Paws almost glared at me, while Hawke and Sigrun snickered. I stood up to open the door, and tried to look dignified.

When he entered, Ser Mew was glad to see me. I lifted him up to my shoulders after I put my shirt and coat on again. He made a small noise at landing on the feathers instead of the leather I'd worn of late. Before long, he was chewing on one of the feathers.

Or maybe he didn't like the black feathers either.

Their talk had turned to Orzammar and thaigs. Hawke had never been in any living areas underground. Thinking about it I hadn't been that much more. In Kal Hirol, we'd only been on the edges of the dwarven held areas, never traveling through them. Hearing the tales of things done to the casteless again irritated Justice. I had somehow thought dwarves had missed that kind of bias, since none I'd met really worried about mages. I'd thought Sigrun's tattoos were voluntary, like Hawke's had been.

Talk turned to Provings, and I'd heard about them from Attryne, at least from a human viewpoint. At first I didn't notice the intent of this talk was about the details a Proving.

“Hawke, you aren't planning to enter, are you? You haven't been trying to convince her of this, have you, Sigrun?” I remembered tales of violence, death, and cheating. Some of Varric's tales were worse.

The dwarf looked embarrassed, she had been.

My Champion patted my arm. “Love. She asked yesterday, and I said no. But I thought about it. We've been slowly dribbling away our money, and how often do we have the chance to make some money, gobs of money? Money for equipment, money to give mages we rescue, money for bribes. We can't get money from the Bone Pit or other investments and paying jobs have been scarce.”

Her money was locked up in Kirkwall and Varric had handled bribes for me. I may not have needed much money for what I was doing, but my friends had spent it freely around me.

“Don't worry, Anders. We won't brag who she is, but only Gray Wardens get any respect for a Proving.” Sigrun looked smug. “I can't get good odds anymore on my own, and if we accidentally let it out that she's not a Warden, the odds should get a lot longer. We'll clean up, between betting and prize money.”

“We can make this not to the death and maybe keep you nearby too. I'll be careful,” Hawke promised.

I doubted anything could be that easy.

Notes:

A/N: Chapter title taken from a quote by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Chapter 25: Lead Him to a Quiet Place

Summary:

The Warden Sigrun suggested a Proving as a way to earn money. Hawe is reluctant, but not as much as Anders is. But fugitves need money and they are boing careful to mention anything other than she not being a Grey Warden...

-- Orzammar, Grey Warden Outpost

Hawke:

Watching Anders actually chatting with an old friend was a revelation. With Nathaniel, their words were charged with old disagreements, maybe even contempt when they met again in the Deep Roads. The next time must it must not have mattered, as Howe showed up to fight in the Gallows, but they didn't talk.

Sigrun and he were much more friendly, after their conversation about his leaving the Wardens. She even took the news about Justice well. It was almost hard for me to believe they'd been separate once, but she'd addressed Justice too about some ring.

That Anders hadn't really mentioned these Wardens made me think. Did he really not have any more friends, or had he not wanted to tell me about them? Was I sad or angry about that?

But Anders relaxed after Sigrun seemed to accept what had happened before with the Wardens, and I got to ask her about locations along the mountains. I'd have to get more detail when Anders wasn't around. While they talked, I daydreamed a moment or five about Anders wearing the blue Warden armor, not that I'd tell him that blue and silver would look fine on him.

But when we talked about Provings, Anders realized that I wasn't just being idly curious, but gathering information. I was glad he missed the earlier bits.

“Are you thinking about entering, Hawke?” His eyes narrowed and he glared at Sigrun. “You haven't conned her into this, Sigrun?”

Touching his arm to draw his attention away from her, I spoke as soon as our eyes had met and I had his attention. This was my decision, not hers. “Anders, she asked me yesterday and I said no. Then I thought some more, and I might. We've been spending the money I managed to bring with us, and we've had little chance to earn more. We could use money for equipment, to give mages we free, or even bribes.” I knew I wasn't even in Varric's league for the well-placed bribe, so it'd cost more and not work as well.

Sigrun must have also seen his worry and tried to help. “Relax, mage. We won't brag about who Hawke is. Humans aren't considered good fighters in a Proving unless they're Grey Wardens. I've fought dozens of times since I came back, in mostly solo matches, and can't get good odds anymore. If she's not a Warden, the odds and profit will be much larger for us. We'll make a bundle between betting and prize money.”

“I don't want death matches, love,” I told him with a squeeze to his arm. “Maybe you can act as healer, just to be safe.”

I thought it might be a little fun. I'd fought so many that getting paid for it and no one dying seemed fine to me. I'd heard about Provings from Varric. Sometimes I wasn't sure I could measure up in combat without all my friends around me to help. I might be the famous Champion, but I wasn't sure if I really was any good. Was my reputation deserved, or was it just a facade?

To me, he still looked doubtful, and I knew he'd dismiss my worry because he was biased about me. I wanted to convince him. “I'll be careful.”

“You might be very careful, but they've done these for ages...” Cupping my cheek with his long fingers, he looked deep into my eyes, his own brown ones worried still. What he sought wasn't clear, but his lips brushed mine with a kiss. “You are not allowed to get yourself killed over a few coins. I'd rather go into the Deep Roads again.”

Making a rude noise, Sigrun said, “They don't have to be that bad. Their respect for the Wardens does cut down a little on the betting games and threats. If we do it quickly, before they have time to try something it should be safe enough for her. Bhelan would not appreciate the Commander of this post being killed either.”

“I don't like this, but I want to be nearby for healing,” Anders said with another flash of determination.

“Nearby shouldn't be a problem, but only combatants are allowed inside the arena. You won't be allowed to interfere if you're up in the audience. That they're strict about that, Lord Piotin Aeducan loves beheading offenders with his ax.” Sigrun seemed almost amused at a memory.

I didn't want him to worry, but I wanted to do this if I could. Looking at Sigrun for any objection, I added, “If you really think what she's proposing is that bad, I won't do it. But think of the story we can tell Varric if we see him again.”

Anders' eyes lightened a little and he smiled. “Can you imagine how he'd embellish it? There'd be a legion attacking you as you stood over the last with some kind of grand shout.”

That had been one of the things Varric chided me about, that I never really had a battle cry. I was too focused on my next blow to spare any effort to shout. Maybe it was because silence and being unnoticed was part of this rogue's stock in trade. Aveline, Fenris, and even Carter's bellows drew more attention from attackers. Dodging too many attacks slowed me down.

After that, we talked about Sigrun plans. With only two of us and me not a Warden, she thought we'd only have few opponents. I should watch a few Provings by some youngsters later today. I was to play the inexperienced human, wearing my old armor and let her talk. The negotiations should be done soon, before any surface dwarves present might catch on.

She wanted to know how often I'd fought dwarves so she could figure how competent they'd been. We could list all those times since I'd arrived in Kirkwall. I listed the Carta and even the dwarven members of so many other groups, from gangs I'd fought for Athenril to some deluded followers of She. The odder fights like how Bartrand had been maddened by red lyrium had her shaking her head, too. We talked until someone's stomach rumbled, and Anders pulled me onto his lap as we'd spoken.

He wasn't happy to miss the Proving negotiations and display of me as a slow newcomer, but both Sigrun and I were concerned about him being identified, even with the changes.

We then discovered from her that there was a small Circle 'tower' outside the gates in other caves, not even far from the Warden outpost. There were Templars there, but they had stayed quiet and barely seen by dwarves, Sigrun said they said that it had only a few mages and did research.

Anders looked both alarmed and a little angry that Templars were so close, but seemed reassured when Sigrun admitted her agents confirmed that the Templars were older and didn't interact with the mages. Justice didn't seem to react, and I wasn't about to question our luck there.

Or maybe he was still happy from the lyrium. A calm Justice was a good thing. I'd pay for that to happen more often.

Later I left with Sigrun for a real Proving, leaving Paws to keep Anders and Merrill company as they had tomes and writing supplies scattered around them.

Inside Orzammar, I couldn't quite get over the scale of the spaces they built. The preliminaries seemed kind of slow and pompous to me; so Sigrun and I added little comments to each other while inside a viewing box that we had to ourselves.

This was my chance while the one official spoke on and on, wearing clothing so stiff I could hear it crackle from here when he moved. “Sigrun, Can I ask you something, and you won't tell Anders?”

She stopped smiling and looked up at me in suspicion. “Maybe. Depends on why.”

This was her other friend too and I was almost afraid to ask. “It's about Justice. We've been avoiding talking about it because, well, I can't talk to Anders without Justice knowing everything too.”

Disapproval mixed with sadness colored her voice. “Are you planning to destroy Justice? The rumors about Kirkwall are pretty extreme. I don't see how even an abomination could destroy something that had been solidly built, even by surfacer dwarves. Justice fought more or less like any warrior and couldn't do any demolition in Amaranthine... What did they do?”

I could feel myself flush. I was part embarrassed, and more guilty. Biting my lip I took a step back to lean against the wall of the box. “I've never really asked, but he made something that exploded. They told me some story about a cure for Justice to get my help and later to place it... I think. We saw the a massive stone building fly apart in fire like some stone version of one of my grenades.”

Again I could hear the keening that rang in my head when it happened, and my knees wobbled. “I don't want to know how he did it, I really don't want to know. I just have to make sure he doesn't do it again.”

Sigrun had grenade materials in her office, that would be understood. She didn't say anything else.

“Anders told me long ago, maybe the day we met, that they could never be separated, not while he lived. But Justice keeps getting more violent and more likely to come out, risking hurting innocents, Their cause is... just.” I had to laugh, and heard a little hysteria in my voice and clicked my teeth when I clenched my mouth. After a moment, I spoke again. “I really don't want Anders to die. He, they, wanted to die for what they'd done. What abomination knows regret? But Justice isn't acting like Anders' few comments from his time with the Wardens. Your comments only seem to confirm that. If they can't be separated, I hope they can be cured.”

“He is possibly the most powerful healer I've ever heard of, excepting that Circle woman who helped fight the Archdemon.” The dwarf looked thoughtful, and thankfully not angry.

“I don't know if Justice would fight a cure. I think he would. I got frightened by the sheer violence Justice did in one town. There was nothing there of Anders. The dead were ripped apart and he was so cruel. Even Kirkwall wasn't cruel, but quick. He couldn't separate that Bartrand we mentioned, so I doubt another healer could help.” I doubted there was a more powerful healer, to heal him.

Running my fingers back through my hair, dislodging the red tie Aveline had given me, I looked down at the floor. “After Justice's violence, Anders was scared too and told me that I should do whatever I had to do.

“I don't want to have to kill him.” My voice was a bare whisper by this point.

Patting me on the shoulder, Sigrun said, “I can do it. He's not the first duster I've had to do it for.”

Lifting my head in a rush, I felt my teeth bare. “No, I'll do it, if it has to be done. I'd have to kill him, kill them twice, because Justice could control Anders' corpse easily with this many years' practice. Now I'm chasing a miracle, the Sacred Ashes. Anders said the Warden found them. Now we must.”

Whooshing her breath, Sigrun admitted, “Both the Commander and Alistair said they could feel something there like what the Fade felt like, but those Ashes cured the incurable.”

That was a relief, and gave me hope. “Justice is positively relaxed today after Anders pinched a lot of your lyrium supply. Can we take a keg with us? He's so much nicer today after he had some last night.”

She looked over the bout that had started while we were distracted. “I don't know what happened to the pure lyrium ring Justice had. It disappeared around when they did. I think he said once it sang to him. I don't think I can get that much for you to take away, but while you're here...”

“Thank you.” That would help, as even a few nights of relief, of Anders and Justice being downright cuddly was very appealing. How much lyrium could I manage to buy as well? “I believe in their cause, but I hope we can cure their temper. Any information you know about this Haven would be a help.”

She told me more; some was what Anders knew, some wasn't. Many of the differences were the things only a rogue would remember from a story: traps and decayed ruins more dangerous than traps. A dragon and a cult that was insane. Her stories about the final challenges were also sparse, to my frustration.

I watched the matches as we spoke, and a few of her comments were about that. But talking about duels was so much better than worrying about going into this search blind.

There weren't any deaths, even if some looked bad. Dwarves were tough, but they didn't have the nastier things like a Templar's smite or mage fire raining down from above. I wanted to get back to Anders while his spirit was in a good mood. After the matches some dwarves with snooty attitudes started sounding Sigrun out about Provings.

I played a little slow in my heavy looking armor with the great sword on my back, the well worn Celebrant that I reached for when they made insults. Mostly I looked at Sigrun as if to copy her actions and kept my eyes unfocussed and vacant. Sigrun got them playing her tune, offering solo Provings with her as a Grey Warden at first, as I was a guest. Then reluctantly she admitted that I wasn't a Warden and had never dueled...

That cooled the enthusiasm of some, but others were more interested in the action. Sigrun took us away before anything was settled, fuming and muttering.

Back in the Warden area, she grinned and told me, “Most of them are well netted now, though it might be a few days until I let them convince me about prizes and rules. The Proving Master will have his say and he'll want your name.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea.” My stomach had dropped at the idea of my name being announced to a crowd.

Sigrun waved that away. “No, the rumors from the Marches call you Champion. I had more information because of your sister being mentioned in dispatches from Ansburg. I don't think any of the newer wardens here know your clan name.

“The noble caste doesn't give a nug's piss for the surface, except for business opportunities. Every clan now has a few who directly trade outside Orzammar. I don't think they've noticed that wages have been rising slowly here as more go up. Dusters only care when they have enough to strike out on their own or sign up with a merchant going above and planning to quit once away. Between staying alive and their plans to escape to where there are no true castes, the dusters don't care much about what surfacers do as long as they pay in sovereigns.” She looked very pleased at the slowly progressing change.

“So, I'm just another human merc?”

Grinning she admitted, “Most of us can't keep track of your family names, they don't work like proper clan names. A lot of humans and elves only have one name, like they're so special they don't even need a clan. Now Anders' name may be common further north, but he made impressions on Voldrik and that idiot Dworkin. Dworkin passed through here a few years ago, hiding from the Qunari, so stories of Anders have made it to our bars from Dworkin alone. Dwarva swallow up most any stories about the Warden-Commander, which also include Anders, but I don't think too many know her name either.”

Well. I'd heard once in a while while I was young of other people named Hawke from different towns, even a thug from Gwaren with a nasty, dark reputation. If it didn't work out, the Deep Roads were handy here for escape. “Then calling me Champion seems the thing to avoid then, and just use 'Hawke, from Gwaren,' and I'll try to snarl and growl at anyone in public.”

By this time, Paws arrived and greeted me; Sigrun was called to do something official and boring from her tone of voice. I wondered if Anders would follow Paws. Last night's affection was something I would love to get used to.

Without Anders or Sigrun with me, one barrel-chested red-head about my age stopped me and wanted to know what I was doing wandering around in Warden areas. He was sure I wanted to steal their secrets, as if I wanted them. Maybe he was hoping to extort something else from me from his tone. He followed me around as I looked for Anders, him complaining at me the whole time. I got irritated after a few minutes, and wanted to tell him what he could do with himself.

Anders was in the common room with the tome he'd found when I entered with muck-brain trailing me like a bad odor.

He saw that I was pissed and asked sharply, “Why are you bothering my guest?”

“She shouldn't be wandering around, poking into Warden secrets.” Reluctantly, the man added, “Senior Warden.”

“Have you been assigned to watch for intruders? She's been killing darkspawn since Ostagar. How many emissaries have you destroyed?” Anders' voice had gotten dry, though the sarcasm was clear.

The idiot plainly didn't believe that and sputtered stupid reasons. His excuses started with my not being a Warden and slid into comments about Anders' large reputation as a lover in Amaranthine. And that all those he'd bedded were worthless, spies, or good for only one thing.

He wasn't even clever in his insults.

What all his excuses really meant was that he was more important now that he was a Grey Warden; he wanted to enjoy that feeling, like Templars, nobles, and blood mages did. I was getting angry and ignored the sounds of movement from the doorway. Paws had, and I trusted his judgment.

The next insult came like a door slam to my patience when he said I hadn't earned Celebrant. I'd earned it twice: once in combat, and before that when I was made the newest Champion. Maybe my glare made him happy as he finished with saying I'd earned it on my back or stolen it.

Silence rang for an eternity. Sure, I'd earned and stolen things, but I'd bled for my victories, all of them. That sword was mine, and anyone who wanted to take it forcibly would bleed first. I realized in a strange way I thought of it as Carver's blade.

“Won it from fighting a couple of revenants on a mountain. Do you want to try your luck, you ass?” I stepped closer, poised to go for my daggers.

Anders sounded alarmed that my words had intensified. “Love...”

“Don't worry, this won't take long, he reminds me of that ogre outside Lothering. Except the ogre may have been brighter.” I doubted he'd live long in the Deep Roads if his pride was this inflated.

The fool managed to bristle more, but his insults to my skill and sexual tastes got less understandable even if the tone was still very clear.

“Ednund.” This was spoken by a glacial voice that held no humor. Sigrun wasn't smiling now, and beside her another dwarf looked out of breath. “Anders is your sworn brother, she is his guest and partner. Grey Wardens don't get to pull the same crap as my folk about dueling.”

“I'll prove the bitch doesn't deserve to be in our hall.” Ednund wasn't listening.

Summoning a tiny smile that had no humor, I asked Sigrun, “Do you have a hall large enough for this? I doubt you want to let outsiders see your idiot.”

“I hear every surface village has one,” she replied.

Anders had stepped close enough to grip my arm and look at me searchingly.

I shook my head. I didn't care about my reputation, Varric had been the source of most of mine. What I did care about was that he treated a stranger as if they were dirt. Ednund would have said much the same things if any others came here. He wanted to humiliate, to make himself bigger. What was dismaying was for me to realize was Wardens could be asses too. I would teach him to not assume.

As I didn't back down, I followed the Wardens to a cavern. Sigrun laid out some simple rules and we started.

It was quick as I kept him off balance most of the time. He contributed his great skill at flailing around and bellowing. He wasn't afraid until I had him down with a knife at his throat and a knee next to his brains.

“Guess you don't deserve to be in the Warden's hall either, if a whore can beat you like this.” Shifting my heavily armored knee without moving the knife, even just my weight was enough to make him shriek. I knocked him out a second or so after.

Anders arrived and cupped my cheek for a second to look at me closely again, before he checked Ednund for injuries. Other Wardens had drifted in before and during the bout, and I noticed they were almost all dwarves and elves; none looked upset at the outcome. When he was done with Ednund, Anders hauled me back to our room.

“Love, he wasn't a real threat to you. He isn't supposed to do that, to hurt non-Warde...” Anders stumbled to a stop and flushed as he realized what he was saying.

I sighed, as this wasn't just me. It never was. “No, but did you see the other Wardens? They weren't there because they wanted me to win, they were there to see him lose. They were following those 'supposed to' rules about him being a brother.” My blood was boiling like it usually was after a fight and my mind raced with the focus brought from combat. I realized another thing, that he hadn't noticed that I always went for this kind of abuser when I could.

My eyes prickled with tears even if I was so angry. “How long have you missed this about me, Anders? Asses like him attack anyone they think is worth less than them. I smack them all.”

Had he ever even noticed that I helped not just mages, even if I helped them the most? I wanted to shout, to break something from my anger. I knew he felt for others, but I fought for them too. In the instant after I said this, I wanted to hit him again, like right after Kirkwall. I... would not, and then swung around, tossing a couple of daggers at a wardrobe as hard as I could. They sank deep.

A hand gripped my shoulder and turned me towards him. His face fallen, Anders put both arms around me tentatively and spoke, full of worry. “Love, no. I always knew you fought for others, even when I argued against it. First I was worried you'd get hurt just now. I only... then I remembered how the Warden insisted we weren't to bother non-Wardens, unless they attacked us. I... we haven't done any better than Ednund.”

I put my arms around him, and I wasn't quite sure which of us was leaning more on the other. Laying my cheek against his chest my heart finally started to slow now that the fight was over. I managed to mumble, “I can make a list of how you are better, but I don't know if making your head swell will help.”

Hearing me, he sighed and relaxed only a little. “I worry when I can't help you. I don't want you to die, especially from some stupid arse.”

I looked up into his eyes. This Warden wasn't the real argument. “I won't be alone in the Proving. Sigrun is experienced too and we don't want you or Merrill revealed by your magic if we can avoid it. I've fought many dwarves, from Bartrand's to the Carta's.”

“I know non-magical healing too; all the battles at the Vigil gave me plenty of experience before I arrived in Kirkwall... I can still do that kind of healing. I have to be close, love.” His eyes were earnest and worried.

His words would have been more fun if he was being more seductive, but he had an unfortunate habit of saying odd things when he was upset. Wriggling against him, I cupped his cheek and asked, “What was that last sentence again?”

Like one of those abandoned mine cars all around Kirkwall, Anders got stuck for an instant. Then his eyes darkened and he reached for the belts of my armor. His tone of voice was much more satisfying when he repeated himself. “I have to be close, love.”

“Fine with me.” Meaning both for our talk and for now, but I got distracted too.

Later he brushed sweaty hair off my face, he told me, “I am going to be near, and I will not promise anything about saving your life.”

“Okay, I don't really want to die. Just try not to be obvious about it.” I wanted a nap right then and had a feeling of disappointment compared to the night before that I didn't understand.

- x -

It took several more days for Sigrun to be satisfied with her negotiations for prizes and bets, and the Proving would be the next day. Sigrun and I had a practice bout with a few of the newer Wardens, though not that Ednund. It went well, and I was feeling confident for the match. Anders seemed to be feeling better about it as well even if he never got quite as cuddly as our first night here.

The pomp and tradition weighed much more than when I was in the audience. Some from both sides had a moment to examine the ground of the arena. I was looking at the stands and the audience, almost all dwarves, were roaring for the fight to start. The only times before that I'd fought with onlookers, was while we fought the Arishok under the eyes of the nobility, and mad Meredith in front of her own men. This time I had the chance to absorb it and feel almost nauseous.

Big Paws nosed my leg; he looked happy and I scratched his ears.

Both sides pronounced the grounds clear of traps. Anders was in his leather armor and smiling slightly when he spoke for us to the Proving Master. He stopped smiling when all non-combatants were being removed from the arena.

“There's a box, close by the judges but off the floor, Sparklefingers. Then you can watch with other Wardens, or you can stay in the waiting area during the bouts. We'll get to rest there between rounds, where those in the stands can't see us or get to us. It's your choice.”

He closed his eyes and asked, “Which is closer?”

“The waiting area.”

With one glare at me, he turned and marched towards the waiting area. I almost hoped he'd have some of the ale. No, the ale down here was bad. I sent Paws to guard him, just in case.

The first bout wasn't that much of a problem for Sigrun and I. Three warriors with axes or swords, two in very bulky and expensive armor, the third was less so and had black tattoos like Sigrun's. They'd practically chewed on their armor or shield in the last moments before the match began.

And then their rage exploded as they waved their huge weapons and charged to attack. As much as wrath controlled rage demons they knew little of tactics and went for Sigrun first. Tossing a flask at them to stun them, Sigrun tumbled back and missed it. It didn't work for very long but they lost their momentum and they were more wary of me now.

They seemed annoyed that I hadn't even used the blade still on my back, but daggers instead. Guess their mothers hadn't told them as often to never assume. They wanted to rage again, but we never let them have the time and took them out quickly as the crowd roared.

“I think they figured out that you aren't a warrior,” Sigrun said with a grin as we moved to the waiting room.

“It's the spiky parts of my armor. I think it confuse...” I stepped into the room and found I was an armful for my mage as he tried to squeeze the breath out of me. “...air.”

He let go, enough for me to speak freely again and checked for injuries. “Thank the Maker.”

Sigrun grinned, “You can thank me, too. I appreciate it, you see.”

“I'll thank you when this is over, Sigrun.” Anders growled that at Sigrun through my hair.

Taking a drink and pacing a little, she noted, “Let her drink something, Anders. The other matches should be fine too.”

Pulling his head back from me, he even had a glare in his voice when he said, “Don't feed me that. I heard all about Provings from Oghren, the Commander, and even you.”

I pulled away with a last squeeze, so I could find some water.

“There's Provings, and then there are Provings. Right now there's no other kinds of unrest and an empty throne. I only agreed to matches with teams with better reputations.” Sigrun explained yet again. Her patience over the last days was admirable, though she was initially amused at Anders' protective behavior.

Regardless of his fears, in a very few minutes we heard the deep clang summoning us back to the sandy arena. I left the great sword with him and Anders was bemused to have a great sword to watch over. I stifled a laugh as I left.

The second match was also quick as another trio approached us more warily than the first. The crowd was much more distracting this time, and the battle against them took longer. This group stayed back to back, making it much harder for us to get a good hit without taking punishing counterattacks. One was a dual wielder and nipped behind me once. It took an age, but we whittled them down, because their grenades never got us both and ours got them.

I felt like I was staggering as I almost fell into our waiting room to be greeted by Anders and Paws, both. I could feel him healing me while Paws tried to knock me down. “Good boy. See, I'm fine” I told him as I scratched his furry belly. Anders was looking at me and my mabari enviously, so I asked him. “You want me to scratch your belly, too?”

“Now that you mention it, that would be much better than waiting in here for that damned bell to mark the end.” He was very disgruntled, but stepped closer.

I pulled off one gauntlet and slid my fingers under his leather to scratch his stomach. He was nearly purring for a second, and looked much less irritated.

“Very cute, for humans,” Sigrun said. “I didn't realize that you became your own kitten, Sparklefingers. But she needs to replenish water badly between matches.”

“I'll get it.” Anders sounded a little better, and got another sealed bottle we'd brought with us.

It really wasn't very long until the rest ended, and I was feeling tired this time.

The other team didn't look tired, nor did they even look like they'd battled yet today. As we walked in, I muttered to Sigrun, “The odds better have been really good this time.”

“They were.” Her voice didn't show as much of her bravado as before. “We could have gotten better if we'd been more willing to fight to the death, but when I go to the Stone, I'm going to do the Legion proud. They don't think much of this shit, though the First Warden admits it's helpful to attract some for the Joining. Human and ehlvan Wardens who fight here remind the deshyrs that dwarva are not the only ones to fight the spawn.”

“The humans are the ones who forget,” the Proving Master said bitterly on hearing the last, with the other team also waiting.

“I haven't forgotten,” I insisted. “My brother died in the blight; my sister is a Warden. The last darkspawn I fought on the surface was only weeks ago.”

“Can you vouch for this, Warden?” The doubting dwarven warrior asked Sigrun.

“She has worked with several Wardens, and a different Warden has vouched for her.” Sigrun sounded a little smug as she said this, though her face was without expression.

Another of our opponents began to laugh, and pointed at me. “She is practically in the Warden clan already, or did you lie before this, Commander?”

“I'm no Warden, I have responsibilities.” I almost spoke of my visits into the Deep Roads, but stopped just in time.

“Then let us begin,” our one opponent said with a mocking and nasty salute. “Wardens are like the Legion and worthy of respect, but you...”

The Proving Master announced the match's start. This one was harder, not just from the group being five this time. Two had crossbows, and while they couldn't load them nearly as fast or accurately as Varric. The warriors tried to corner us and they nearly accomplished this several times before I realized that even the glancing blows from the crossbows had a poison that was slowing my perceptions.

It was taking too long to take the second archer down as he'd gotten stealthy and I lost track of him. Sigrun was keeping the two remaining warriors busy, though she was bleeding too much and one arm was held awkwardly as she knocked one down. I threw down a grenade to cloud the largest area around me, as I planned to go into stealth. Even as I did, I felt a dragon kick my chest.

The force of the bolt knocked me back a few feet, and through the swirl of mists I could see only the fetching of a bolt sticking out just below my ribs. I couldn't feel my legs and wanted to shout for Anders...

Still barely on my feet, I went into stealth and staggered out of the mists. There was the archer, looking at where I'd been. Only a few steps and I stabbed him, not caring that much if it was disabling or fatal.

Dizzy now, I turned a little as my knees folded and saw Sigrun was stabbing the last warrior.

The cavern ceiling wasn't really flat at all, not like a proper roof. The crowd in the arena got silent for a moment and I heard Paws howl.

Even as the dwarves got silent, one familiar voice was saying from above, “...eah, that's the Champion of Kirkwall. At least I made some of the sodding money back I lost on guards around her.”

Notes:

The chapter title is taken from a quote by Mark Twain. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 26: The Hours of Farewell

Summary:

The Proving in the arena in Orzammar is wearing on Anders, and not just because of the demanding mabari that wants to help. Even with winter coming, they cannot stay in this safe place...

-- Orzammar, Grey Warden Outpost

Anders:

I studied a book I'd found on healing without magic and took notes while Hawke was away, though Merrill had gone inside the mountain to look at a litter of nugs. I wasn't sure if she realized they were raised as food or she wanted a pet. I doubted they were good pets with the low opinions of them.

Hawke got back with a young man who must have Joined recently. I could barely feel the taint in him. With encountering more Wardens than I had in years, I realized that I could now feel how far their taint had advanced, in a way akin to disease or poison in my patients. Sigrun had the most, of course, and most of the rest were far less. I didn't quite feel my own the same way as in Ednund. That young fool followed Hawke through the outpost, but Hawke's irritation was funny. Then I saw they were spinning rapidly into to a fight, which alarmed me as Wardens aren't supposed to fight non-Wardens.

I'd hoped Sigrun would put a stop to it, but she led them to a practice chamber and let them fight. Why was Hawke doing this? One arse wasn't that important. I watched the bout, worried when I realized that Ednund was almost as big as a Qunari and Hawke looked so small. I'd never had the leisure to notice the difference in sizes during a fight, but now I had to watch. And do nothing.

She'd won and I was relieved, but I did not like that she was taking risks like this that weren't necessary.

We had to talk.

And we did.

Back in our room, it became an argument which I liked even less. I did not want her to risk harm for unimportant things. The foolish boy was unimportant.

But not to Hawke, and an old worry came back to roost: that she was a Champion and I could lose her to other people's demands. All those stupid tasks and problems that took her away from me. I should have had constant nightmares of Varric or even Aveline bringing me the news that she had died, if it wasn't for my lack of dreaming since Justice. So, I made sure I was able to accompany her on her tasks, even over Justice's rumblings.

I didn't want to lose her now, even to my own fears. I had to convince her that I supported her, no matter what, even if I thought something was a stupid risk.

Even as we made up, I wasn't convinced she believed me. I was that pathetically desperate.

The days until the Proving got to be wearing. Justice grew less pleasant, but I couldn’t afford to be in a drunken lyrium haze before, or worse, during their Proving. Finally the prizes and betting were settled to Sigrun's satisfaction. I wasn't as satisfied as they were, even after practice sessions with younger wardens including a more respectful Ednund.

The preliminaries almost made me want to scream: formal announcements as representatives from each team checked the sandy grounds for any sabotage. I poked the sands cautiously like I was feeling for something; I was, but I was feeling for magic. I only felt some very old traces, maybe from the lyrium that was more precious and dangerous than mere gems. I was happy to tell the sour Proving Master that it appeared clear, but not as happy when I realized that meant the fight was about to start.

I was escorted off the arena grounds. I wasn't happy that I couldn't watch and be close to heal, so I chose healing. Her mabari was sent off too. If a dog could look frantic with worry, Paws did.

Then came the agony of waiting. The only good thing was that Justice was quiet. I heard some noise from the crowd, but I couldn’t tell how that boded for Hawke and Sigrun. There was some dwarven ale, but when I tasted it, I decided to drink water from my own flask instead.

My wait didn't improve when Paws moved to the door into the arena and started to growl. He turned to look at me, then the door, and then barked a single bark at me.

Even I knew what he wanted this time. “Sorry, old boy. We can't help her.”

Another growl.

“Really! I don't like it either. It's supposed to be mostly practice, not to the death...” I felt kind of stupid to be talking like this to a dog. Ser Pounce and Ser Mew were much more dignified, they just napped in my room.

Paws ruffed, but I didn't know what that meant. Then he sat by the door and seemed to be listening.

I fidgeted with my staff, retying the leather ribbons and fur that hid the sigils. The crowd began to roar, and then Paws stood up before the door opened from the other side.

Hawke! was my only thought before I nearly ran to hold her even if she was still speaking. Then she couldn't speak for a moment. I could pretend that I was checking her for injuries, but I didn't even do that right away.

It seemed much too short a time until the deep bell rang for the second match. That went much the same as the first for me, aside from Paws standing right behind me as if he wanted to push me towards the door bodily.

The second time she returned to the waiting area, we very nearly knocked her down. They were more injured again, but not life threatening. Hawke and Sigrun looked so much more tired this time, and I couldn't even make myself remember how many rounds the Warden said they did for her Proving during the Blight. It had been more than two, but I hadn't paid enough attention.

Paws, the shameless creature that he was, rolled over for a belly scratch. I was protected and hampered in the damned leather armor, when Hawke knelt down to scratch his belly...

Her next belly scratch made me smile, especially when she found that spot where the dart in the leather was irritating sometimes. I decided to look away and ignore how much I probably resembled the slobbering beast with my first sigh.

A little bit later the bell rang for the last match. Hawke and Sigrun were tired now, even if I'd healed all their injuries. Hawke looked grim again, not her cheerful optimism like before the other two matches.

To the Void with not watching. I cracked the door out into the grounds, at least enough to see. Paws nosed at the door but that shut it. That got me another glare from a dog.

“No, we're not supposed to watch this, so we can't open the door more.” I could see that he didn't wag his tail at that.

When I peeked through the door slit, I saw one of the other dwarves give a sloppy, mocking salute, but Hawke and Sigrun didn't react.

I found that watching the match wasn't much better than my ignorance of the other matches. It was five against two, and I was finding it harder to not interfere when it seemed they were losing. It was getting hard to tell what was happening with smoke grenades being used. I wondered how well the audience could see that the other team was not being very careful about keeping this nonlethal.

Gripping my staff in my hands, I wanted to stride out there and blast these opponents and stop them from hurting my Hawke. It would be easy. Then I could gently heal her, the pain a forgotten Fade-dream. But I couldn't do that, or negate all the blood and pain Hawke and Sigrun had already endured for our goals; I had to wait.

Watching the fight, I saw that the dwarven archers were using poison on their arrows. I wasn't sure which poison from this distance, but I noticed both Hawke and Sigrun were slowing. They hadn't noticed nor went after the archers. I wanted to shout a warning to Hawke, but that would distract her even more. Three of their opponents were out of the fight and Sigrun injured, when Hawke finally noticed and swore.

I didn't know if it was in time. A concealing cloud appeared around her to my relief, when I heard the sound and cry from a crossbow bolt hitting target. I hated it, but I almost hoped she'd fall and end the match, so I could run out there sooner.

No body fell to the ground, but my heart was in my throat. Hawke appeared and finished the archer, and I saw the bolt still in her as she stumbled along. I couldn't heal her until I removed it.

The mabari was pushing at the door and I pushed back against him. “Don't knock me over, blast it!”

Hawke fell and rolled to her back. She looked too much like a corpse as Sigrun finished their last opponent.

Some official stepped forward, but I didn't care. I shoved the door open and ran over to Hawke. She was barely conscious and smiled at me; then she started mouthing something, but I wasn't interested in whatever foolish thing she wanted to say while she bled. I would stop her bleeding first.

I spilled my bandages and supplies out, and ignored the sounds washing around the cavern. After I fed her a potion to stabilize her, I spared enough attention to heal Sigrun a little after assessing both rogues' injuries.

“Thanks, Warden,” Sigrun said gruffly. “I guess I get to live, still. Funny how that keeps happening to me.”

I looked at her, annoyed. “Just because you're dead or still seeking death, doesn't mean I want that for Dera.”

“Calm down, duster. Look in a mirror sometime when you speak of seeking death. I'm not the one who was wearing all black.” Sigrun spoke quietly enough, despite her chiding.

I looked away, wondering if I should remake my robes again.

Then I noticed that the mabari was carefully licking Hawke's face.

She was going to be washed as soon as I was done healing. Slobber.

Healing Hawke, at least enough for her to leave on her own feet would take a few minutes. Doing the surgery on the bolt quickly was tricky enough, as ripping it out would make the damage worse. Before I was done, she tried craning her head and looking around.

“Hold still, Love. Or I might accidentally heal your nose on crooked.”

She stopped and stuck her tongue out at me. “I thought I heard someone, someone with a familiar voice just as you got here.”

I finally noticed the many sounds of dwarva talking, bragging, and of course, arguing. Most were above us, but at least a dozen were on the sands, examining the bodies of the losers. I was fairly sure most of their spirits had gone to the stone, or whatever they believed now.

After some careful stretches, Sigrun suggested, “We should finish up with the potions and bandaging in our waiting room. Can you carry her?”

In answer, I stood and helped Hawke carefully to her feet. Some voices raised in approval carried to us as we made our cautious way back out. Hawke leaned on me, even after we were in a private space again, so I lay her on a bench to double check. Then I checked Sigrun.

Once they were as healthy as magic could do in a short time, I sat back. I was trying to figure out a way to give them an ultimatum, but couldn't figure a way to say it without getting one or both mad at me. I looked at Paws, but that only made me realize how desperate I was for an idea.

Sigrun grinned at us. “We should get the winnings tomorrow, once the betting and prize money settle.”

“I could have sworn I heard that nuisance, Javaris... Javaris Slowtop? No, that's not right. That merchant who pretty much caused the Qun attack with his scheming.” Hawke's face was cross as she thought.

“Tintop,” I said at the same time as Sigrun. I turned to her to find out how she knew him.

“If this is the same waste of clean air, he's sloppy. He's got merchant and mining clans angry with him now, but one of the warrior clans has to be secretly funding him, even if he claims no real clan.” Sigrun looked and sounded disgusted. “He also has at least a dozen dusters angry, casteless guards that he refused to pay as they had no one to enforce any dispute.”

“That sounds like him, he's a bad employer,” Hawke agreed. “The idiot could not believe that the Qun were not going to sell him their explosive, secret weapon.”

Sigrun laughed at that. “I know that type. So he's hiding here where the Qun can't follow.”

The topic was making me uneasy, as the Qun might hunt me too as I hadn't died to secure their recipe from humans. “I'm not sure they'd even look for him. They considered him like a diseased rat, not something to waste time on.”

“Trouble is, he's here and he knows us by name, Anders.” Hawke looked worried. “How much do you think it will cost for someone to buy news on us from him? He might give it away, since he blames me for not getting him the gaatlock recipe and losing him all those profits.”

I knew he'd happily sell the recipe to the Chantry and Orlais, which could not be good for mages. The Chantry could annul a tower on a whim. I wasn't going to spread the recipe, as I didn't trust the Javarises out there. If I could, I'd ensure the Qun forgot their recipe too. “Yes, we should leave.”

Rubbing her hands, Sigrun smiled. “This should be fun. I'll take care of him if he's been a nuisance here and worse on the surface... I'll make it a training exercise.”

I hurried Hawke back to our room, past an excited Merrill who had been up in the audience. We had to to rest and wait for a departure I hadn't expected to be so soon. Once there I hustled Hawke out of her armor, leaving it in a pile for tomorrow and double checked for even small injuries before dragging her over to a tub.

I'd wanted this all day, but once Dera slid into the bath, the steam rising almost made me think she was an apparition and she'd melt away if I tried to touch her. It had been so close today, so close in Kirkwall. Some occasions since then I wished desperately for Varric, Aveline, or even help from Fenris in a fight; these were getting more frequent than I liked.

Hawke ended my hesitation by pulling me into the water with a splash.

All I could sputter was, “Don't do that again.”

“You can dry it, can't you?” Dera smirked as she quickly helped me out of the last of my armor. “I almost expected you to hiss like a cat when I...”

“Don't fight without me,” I said before kissing her. “Don't fight to entertain. Don't fight for money.”

She stopped squirming, even if I didn't mind that at all, before she spoke flatly. “I'm not sure I can promise all that. I can promise to try to avoid all three.”

A shadow of unhappiness flickered over her face and I realized that I'd spoiled her victory. As soon as I righted myself in the tub, I pulled her close again and said, “I'm sorry, Love. That was a wonderful victory by you and Sigrun. I should have said that first, but I was so worried, especially once I spotted the poison. Even your hound was trying to get through the door.”

At first a brief smile appeared, but then she looked over to the mabari who was dozing beside the bed. Dera started to speak, paused, and then paused again. “It seemed like a good idea and a way to get money without the Deep Roads. I'm not much of a hunter and don't have any skills I can trade to help sustain us over winter, especially once we lose Merrill's skills. I don't think I could become an assassin for pay and I don't have any skills to sell.”

Were things that desperate? I didn't think so, but she'd taken care of money for years and it would ruin our efforts to remain hidden if I traded healing as I used to do. “We'll find some quiet place for the winter.” I could feel a rumble from within, but I was already planning my next sentence. “Let's try the lyrium and wine again to celebrate? I don't want to think about what we'd get if we hired some dancers for our celebration; all that brings to mind is one warden who would stumble across the hall as if it was a pattern dance and never spill a drop until he retched out his ale. We'll celebrate with just us.”

--- x ---

I was hung over again in the morning, though my spirit was almost humming with contentment. Hawke didn't show as much contamination this time. After healing her and cleaning up, we waited. Merrill and I compared finds from the books collected by wardens and left here. The winnings were delivered in pieces to Sigrun, and it seemed like a lot and not enough. It took all day; the dwarves didn't really care about sunset on the surface, so we didn't leave until the following morning.

Sigrun brought the last of our winnings after we'd eaten breakfast and Mew was purring on me as I sat reading.

“Here it is, Anders. The last of our winnings was surrendered, that was the most profitable Proving I've been in. There were a few whispers about the surface, but I got some of my duster friends working on turning those aside. Tintop is going to find his credit is gonna dry up, sounds like he hasn't kept his membership up in the merchants' guild...” Sigrun's grin was almost evil.

I wasn't convinced he'd manage to finally get himself killed. Here he was limited. But I could not think of a sufficient Warden-scale reason that he should die. Hawke started packing up the last things into our packs and Merrill had already gone outside. Surprising myself, I said, “I think I'll miss you Sigrun. This has been much better than I'd expected when we started looking for some more Gray Wardens.”

She was my oldest friend now and I'd had so few.

“You'll make me blush Sparklefingers. As if that could really show, but I'd know.” Sigrun's grin was bright. Shaking her finger up at me she scolded, “You be more careful, mage. I'm expecting your company for my Calling in twenty years... unless I finish dying before that.”

I darted a look at Hawke, but she wasn't reacting so I hoped she missed that.

In that moment, Sigrun got close enough for a hug. “At least promise that you'll send me a note here once in a while. Make it anonymous if you want; got it, duster?” Her voice wobbled a little.

I had to smile, as I got a little choked too. “Maybe I'll sign them as Oghren and your students will wonder if you've gone insane?”

Hawke was sitting and watching us with a mostly neutral expression and a smile that was both approving and ironic and sad. She didn't say anything, so I wasn't sure if they were being polite or they liked each other.

Sigrun laughed heartily and smacked me. A few more goodbyes and we gathered our packs and left the Gray Warden outpost, skirting around the Circle entrance even if we both looked like greatsword and spear fighters in worn armor.

Leaving Orzammar was harder than most any other departure I could remember. For most of my life, I'd either been fleeing Kinloch's Circle or fleeing only a few steps ahead of even angrier Templars. This was perhaps the first time I had the chance to say goodbye, and it colored my mood for the rest of the day. I was leaving the company of someone who was a friend, even after all the events since we'd met years ago. All the other departures in my life had been far more bitter than sweet. I hadn't realized that I felt fairly safe in the Gray Warden post... until I left it.

The roads were clear, and we passed few travelers for the first day or so. We hurried back down into the lower elevations, as Merrill thought there was a storm coming and we wanted to get below the forest canopy where the winds would be reduced from the mountainsides. We didn't hurry once we were back on the Imperial highway; we traveled shorter days, visiting most inns for a meal or overnight.

As the raised road often had a good view of Lake Calenhad, I was surprised to find myself squinting for a glimpse of Kinloch. Had any I'd known there survived the Blight? Were they still sane? Did they remember me with any fondness? The only ones I knew who might have survived were Jowan and Wynne. Irving was dead, and Cullen gone harsh and embittered from the youth I'd known then. Was anything different for mages or their keepers, now or six months ago?

Looking across the lake couldn't answer those questions.

The plan was for us to spend the last months of the six I'd agreed to in wintering in some remote village with little to no active Chantry presence. I spent time in our room or tent in evenings, often updating a copy of our map with what Hawke or even Merrill learned.

We had a month at most before winter closed most roads aside from the highway. We made our way slowly down along the western side of Lake Calenhad. Frost and the occasional snow stiffened the tent's canvas some mornings.

Silvencoomb was a bit larger than some villages; it had many merchants and a market. It also had a Chantry, but it wasn't quite as large or gaudy as most. I felt obscurely better about that.

Hawke almost seemed to relax as we traveled, even her speech pattern shifted slightly. This was the first town that I saw more than one mabari out with their owners, and so no one even looked twice at Paws. We arrived before the market closed for the day, so Merrill changed direction, saying something about finding a herb or dye dealer. We purchased more dried food and Hawke looked wistfully at the trader with a pile of oddities, from some ratty books to a pitcher and bowl that had been glazed in a bright green. But even with the magic I'd used and components Hawke found for our packs, we didn't have much beyond necessary. Food, our tent, equipment... we couldn't spare room for too many of the oddities Hawke could find. After we finished shopping, we started looking for Merrill and found her chatting with a tall and rangy human who had that air of prosperous merchant.

“I know salt can be used as a binding agent, but I've not been entirely happy with how the dyes are absorbed into the fur, Leond.” Her brow furrowed in thought, Merrill added, “Some people get so scared of deep fur that looks like black and white stripes.”

The man laughed in a pleasing way, “What the buyer doesn't know then, won't hurt him, but...” He stopped suddenly and looked toward Hawke and me.

Then I saw the head of another mabari appear over the edge of the table, and it and Paws seemed to stare at each other for a long moment, making small noises I couldn't quite hear.

Hawke patted her mabari's head, saying quietly, “Paws, settle.”

At the same moment, the merchant seemed to restrain the younger appearing dog by the collar. “Trumps, sit. These are our customers.”

Mew clawed his way forward from his nest on my pack and started to leap forward. What was next would have been hilarious if I wasn't in the middle of it. By the time it was over, half the merchant's table had collapsed and everyone was scratched up and bleeding.

The merchant was on his knees and holding his mabari. Hawke was essentially sitting on Paws. I was bleeding from stuffing Ser Mew into the safety of his basket.

Sweet, innocent Merrill was untouched.

Notes:

Chapter title adapted from a quote by Jean Paul Richter.

Chapter 27: Reason Swept Aside

Summary:

As the fugitives travel along the Tevinter highway around Lake Calenhad they must gather information on a safe place to spend the hard winter of western Ferelden. Or so Anders thinks. Hawke is desperately seeking hope for them, despite disapproval.

-- Tevinter Highway, Silvencoomb

Aldera Hawke:

Silvencoombe hadn't provoked any bloodshed so far, which I counted a piece of Maker-given luck. Once the mess with the pets was settled, Merrill collected her purchase and we left for a small inn we'd passed on entering the town. There we rented rooms, even if it was only a brisk mid-afternoon in autumn. Anders wanted to move on to a smaller village for the night, but I needed more rumors and news; finding that village that Sigrun said was closest to the Ashes was more important than speed. I'd only seen a single Templar in Silvencoombe as we moved about; she was out of uniform, about my age, and not that clear-eyed anymore from lyrium. We should be safe to stay overnight.

Merrill wanted to refresh Anders' hair dye while I was going to work the crowd in the tavern. When I left, his face looked like Mew's after a sudden downpour: hurt and betrayed and wet. Merrill hummed something as she worked, but he glared at me.

The tavern had merchants and the people from their caravans, all trying to finish a last run before travel got too risky with the winter. This made for a noisy room as I tried to get more news about villages in the area, even those up into the mountains. I actually asked about winter stops, mostly to find Haven; Haven which had been an Avvar cult village before the Blight from what Sigrun told me. Beyond Haven were the Ashes, I hoped.

I just couldn't get much solid information about the villages further into the hills, settlements not served by the highway. I wasn't sure if it was because my armor marked me as a stranger, or they didn't know anything here either.

So I spent the rest of the evening and into the night eating and drinking as I talked weather and roads and crops and trade, hiding my real questions in with the chaff. A few games and bar challenges, I was careful there. Later as the senior merchants went off to sleep, I was able to question the younger ones more freely as the alcohol loosened tongues. Such was what I'd been doing ever since leaving Orzammar, even if I wished I'd had Varric's help for this; he made this a lot more fun. Reeking of ale and hopeful drunks every night really wasn't any fun.

Neither would climbing up to our cheap room under the eaves when I was too close to drunk.

When the last of them passed out or lurched off for bed, I left my last half-full mug on the table. I still wasn't happy with the things I'd gleaned tonight, and worried my careful way back up to our room. I didn't know how long Justice was going to be mellow after Orzammar. I didn't know if the Chantry had a permanent presence where the Ashes were found. I didn't know how long we had before winter made travel almost impossible.

My worries about this were starting to make sleep difficult every night, and getting drunk so I could sleep was a relief even if I could tell Justice disapproved. My greatest worry was that I didn't know how long I could keep this search a secret from Anders and Justice. I liked the ideal of justice, Thedas needed more fairness, but they were no longer just. Back in Halamshiral, I was scared even if I didn't want to admit it even to myself. What if they turned on me too? Anders wouldn't, but his spirit no longer had a semblance of calm like he had in Feynriel's dream. Would Justice see me as a threat if they knew? Would we even get this chance for a cure?

And my other worry was the fear that even a miracle couldn't heal my mage. The Ashes cured a powerful poison from what the tales said, maybe a magical one. But Anders' problem wasn't a matter of physical healing. I couldn't find any believable tale of other recent cures by the Ashes. I had no other ideas, and little hope if there was no miracle. We couldn't go on like this.

I reached the door of our room and leaned against the scarred wood, feeling almost defeated. It felt so cool and solid and real. Moving suddenly seemed a huge effort as the smallest sounds seemed to echo in the lare night silence. After a week or two I heard Paws' whine from inside, and I lurched to the side enough to open the door; then I swore when a stray splinter from the door jamb sliced into my forehead and bled.

“Hawke?”

I felt a nudge on my side and a whine from Paws.

Anders wasn't as polite as he paused in the doorway, probably to look at me. “Hawke, what are you doing? You reek of carelessness and alcohol. This is a distraction, you have been beguil... ” A tiny pause and then he continued, pulling me gingerly into his arms. “Don't do this, at least if you can't... stay with me, take Merrill with you.”

The burn from the splinter stopped suddenly, but my head was heavy and my thoughts more sluggish than I expected. Putting my arms around him, I mumbled into his neck. “Love you, not Merrill... well not as that way... she looks breakable and likes demons and blood and she's a girl.”

“I've noticed that.” Anders sighed but his voice had a smile. “Let's get you cleaned up and into bed.”

“Fine with me, I'm really sleepy.”

The next morning I was hungover, but once we were on the road I told Merrill and Anders about the towns and villages near here, and why they might be promising... or not. The next town on the highway's loop around the lake was Cragscar; a den of thieves with such a reputation that we had no plans on stopping there. It was just too dangerous. Others like Hybluff, Dreadon, and East Uzmoor, each had some potential as a place to hide. Haven, I didn't mention at all to Justice. I'd heard rumors that people were living there, and they weren't that friendly.

I didn't know anything about these people, supposed to be Avvars, other than they were barbarians rumored to not follow the Maker. A town of people like that should be a very safe place for Anders and Merrill. Or the people living there could also be a Chantry's worth of Sisters and Templars, and possibly the worst place for us. My being Champion wouldn't help here even if I announced it.

I'd steal some of the Ashes if I had to. I thought Andraste would understand necessity.

A cold, freezing rain came in the afternoon and travel got risky so we stopped early for the day; I hid in our tent with a tiny brazier as I added to our map. We planned to wait out the squall, and hoped it was only a warning of winter. I thought we were about a week from Haven, at most.

The road was cold, clear and dry in the morning, though there was some recent debris on the road from other travelers, maybe heading for Redcliffe and the Bannorn where it was slightly warmer. The roadbed was getting lower as we got closer to the lake, though I doubted we'd see many others.

Anders didn't do anything for my headache in the morning. I suspected Justice was being a pain again.

We marched along the Highway, sometimes debating whether there was a better word than marching. Other than that we didn't talk very much. Maybe it was the threatening weather and cold breeze, but I didn't think anything about not seeing locals on the highway. They'd know the customary weather better.

Then I heard a shout and the deep thrumming of far too many bowstrings, a sound I hadn't heard since Ostagar.

I'd never wanted to hear it again.

During my first seconds of panic, I looked about for darkspawn and then to Anders for which direction had the biggest threat. Then I heard shouting as warriors, human warriors in unmarked armor, swarmed over the western, uphill wall of the highway. That this wasn't darkspawn was only sinking in as I heard a second volley of arrows.

I tossed a grenade as I was moving towards the warriors, then I spun at the nearest with my daggers. The Celebrant sword was only a bulky prop. The first warrior, a red headed woman who reminded me for an instant of Aveline was choking when I killed her. I'd killed my third before I realized there were more than I'd realized at first... dozens. Scores.

Too many.

This already was a larger company than anything I'd faced since the Qun uprising and at Ostagar. A weight settled on me. I hoped to take as many as I could with me into the Void. And hoped that Anders and Merrill would get away.

A bolt just missed me as I spun to locate the leader; it felt like an oddly quiet battle. Our opponents shouted oaths, grunted when knocked over, and their armor made sounds, but none of them spoke otherwise. No one made threats or even said why they were attacking us. Anders and Merrill chanted spells and Paws was close to me, ripping the throat of someone I'd already injured.

Him, I commanded to get over to Merrill; she'd get him away and take care of him if we died.

A sudden electrical storm struck among our attackers, with lightning so close that my hair stood up enough that I could feel it under my helm, even in combat. The wind picked up strength, making missile attacks chancy now. Anders finished his spell and the wind rose even more, into almost a gale force and a wave of sleet hit the bulk of the company attacking us. That slowed them at the least.

That still left a dozen too close to us.

The next warrior, wet and singed, skidded into his attack; I killed him quickly. After the next few went down, I had seconds free where I could look for the leader. Kill her and her men would worry if they'd get paid or they'd lose morale and run. At least that's how I got to be Champion, more or less.

I charged into the closest clump of warriors, so using a bow was too risky for their own men. Already I could taste the coppery blood from the fighting and I'd already lost count of how many I'd killed. I kept moving: tumbling, tripping them, and scanning for my target, ever scanning as I kept moving and between kills.

Some more grenades, grabbed at random and tossed; one exploded with the nastier cloud of magic into the middle of some archers and they screamed even as they died. I couldn't think about it or even pace myself, they were too many. The next one was a smoke and I used my brief cover to check on the battle again.

Anders looked white as a sheet, with sweat all over him as he forced himself to cast spells in that armor. I felt a surge of healing magic before one of the warriors exploded into stinking gobbets nearby. Paws was over by Merrill; she didn't look like our attackers had gotten too close, but I could see a red haze around her as she cast more spells.

I couldn't afford to get upset about that right now.

We were holding our own, and amidst the shouts and armor I heard a straining voice barely through the winds. “Andraste, save us.”

I rushed in that direction before the accent truly sank in.

It wasn't far and I knocked that stupid armor over the edge of the road with some shout I didn't remember. I followed, with my anger pulling me after him.

I landed beside him and shoved against the solid breast plate before he'd managed to recover from his fall, knocking him to the ground again. He, and his kind had been the source of most of the bad things in my life, from my father's early death to our desperate gamble in the Deep Roads where I lost my sister. He would not have lifted a finger to help her, despite how she helped avenge his family. I stopped whatever I was shouting to fight in earnest.

I knew how he fought, his bow as an awkward club at best and rarely did he use a dagger. He knew my style too and I lost one of my daggers. Both angry, I don't think we bothered with anything but fighting snarls as we were too close for anything but hand to hand.

Sebastian might be taller than me, but I'd fought too many much bigger than him... and I had several more daggers. I didn't have to think after this many fights, I just wanted all the hypocrites to feel real pain, not their imaginary phantasms and fear mongering.

It was vicious with cuts and blows deflected by armor or a last instant dodge. But some still hit, on both our parts. But finally my greater experience at knife work gave me an opening. The enchanted Qun blade slid right through the chain-mail mesh into his stomach and slid easily until it hit something harder than his guts.

Surprised at what I'd just done for an instant I didn't finish the drag to gut him, I looked at Vael's face and didn't feel anything right then.

Blood spilling out from his wounds, his hands had gone to vainly staunch the wound gushing even if I hadn't pulled the blade out. He looked surprised too. “Hawke, how could you betray... ?”

Betray? Me? I saw red again and clenched my fists. “You ass. I'm the only one who hasn't betrayed anyone or any vows. I spent almost ten fucking years trying to fix the problems of that city. From rescuing youngsters to killing the murderers of your family. I tried everything I could to protect the innocent, even if it put me at risk from magistrates and magisters. Where were you most of that time? Did you step up on your own and put your own ass at risk for anything for other people, or only when you wanted vengeance? You're part of the Void-blasted problem! You hid in the Chantry unless dragged out, instead of helping to make things any better, you Useless. Piece. Of. Shit... ”

I wanted to pound his face. I needed to. I'd put up with his prejudiced... no, evil opinions for too long. He would have killed me, killed us, destroyed Bethany only because he was scared like a little child. Well, I'd make him fear death and pain for real, not some delusion about magic. He should feel the agony and the grinding of bone against bone without any magic for him to blame. He'd stopped looking snotty... finally.

I blacked out, my fists slippery with blood.

-- x --

Anders:

When our attackers came into view, I lost count; they were much more than a score. I regretted that I was in the wrong armor, but now it was a matter of fighting or dying. This wasn't some bandits wanting our money, or Maker forbid, pillaging. They didn't even ask.

They didn't panic either when Merrill and I cast our spells, they were expecting magic. At least they didn't seem to have magic or Templars, so Justice wasn't angry.

I cast my magic, but there were too many now; I needed to tap that nearly-lost cold spell again, even if Hawke wasn't dying... yet. Justice, help me now!

He didn't argue and my mana flowed a little better as I brought a second storm on our attackers on the heels of Merrill's. Any melting snow would make Merrill's electrical magic more effective.

Then I alternated cold magic with other protective and targeted spells, feeling dizzy between castings. We knew couldn't afford that weakness, not if we wanted to help the mages. Steadily, we wore them down, with Hawke taking care of the stronger and the stragglers that our magic didn't finish. There were less than a dozen left when Hawke shouted, and I looked over to see her knocking one off the highway and she leaped after him.

Another few spells and Hawke didn't climb back up. I ran over and saw the end of a fight between Hawke and Sebastian where she had advantage. Breathing a sigh of relief, I took a quick look over at Merrill and she was finishing the last of the prince's hirelings.

The sickening sound of a beating, of bones fracturing and cries of agony, pulled my attention down again.

Hawke was beating him, even if he was now helpless and had a fatal injury. She never did that. But now she was beating him like she was enjoying it, with unholy howls of joy.

My heart breaking at seeing how we'd broken her, I leaned over and cast an old spell that wasn't useful in a fight. Dera wasn't an enemy, but I had to make her stop.

Feeling like I was an old, old man, I climbed over the wall and carefully dropped down beside them. Hawke had collapsed, partly on the body, but she breathed steadily. When I got closer, his eye struggled open and widened from some emotion, fear or anger was hard to tell.

His bleeding had gotten more sluggish and he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even spit at me.

Ignoring him for the moment, I lifted Hawke off and laid her out a step away, outside the pool of his blood. She had only minor injuries, nothing worse than I'd healed many, many times. I lifted a strand of bloody hair off her face after I healed her.

It might have looked like I was thinking, but my mind was empty. Even my spirit was quiet while I wasn't thinking. When I turned back to the dying prince, his eyes tracked my motion. Maybe he expected me to rant or snigger or gloat at him, but I healed him. First enough to stabilize him, and then I removed Hawke's dagger from his gut, healing as I did. I wasn't pouring healing into him, I didn't know how much longer I would be conscious myself and I wasn't about to heal him that much.

His voice raspy, he grated out a single word. “Why?”

I had no good reason right now, and smirked. “I'm a healer... you're an idiot.” I wanted him to chew on that for a while.

Or not. I didn't give a damn what he thought.

But Dera shouldn't kill him like that, and witnessing that as it happened made me sick. I put him to sleep and tied him, with my eyes dragging shut over and over. Paws led Merrill to us and she insisted I drink some potions despite my reluctance.

One wasn't a lyrium potion and I found myself fully alert again.

“I suppose I needn't ask why you and Hawke did not return to the road.” Her voice was deliberate as she weighed the arrival of Sebastian. She smiled at me and added, “This was a rather small army, certainly not enough to destroy Kirkwall.”

I sat next to Hawke and carefully held her in my lap. I wanted her to wake, but she looked peaceful. “It was nearly enough for his plans.”

Kneeling beside us, Merrill asked gently, “Why does Hawke sleep? What happened?”

Bracing myself, I admitted, “She wasn't just going to kill him, but wreak vengeance for... I don't know, everything she and her family suffered even if he wasn't involved. That wouldn't be just.” I felt a pang as I said that as well as a faint approval within. “I hope she isn't possessed, but I'm afraid to check.”

“I don't remember agreeing to some demon's suggestion,” Hawke said dryly from my lap before stretching.

Glad that she'd calmed down, I kissed her, ending only because her mabari shoved his head against mine. I sputtered. Paws slobbered her face. Hawke pushed him away with a scold and then a snicker.

Then she stopped and asked in surprise, “He's tied up?” Dera's voice was cold with rising with disbelief.

Merrill looked at both of us and moved over to the steps up to the road that I hadn't noticed earlier.

I could hear no sympathy or guilt, so I carefully answered. “Yes. I didn't want him trying anything when I passed out.”

“Why's he alive? He's part and parcel of the problem, sheltered by power and money of both his family and the Chantry. I'd have thought Justice would have burnt him from the inside out, slowly.”

Was this really Hawke's voice saying that? Her sweet voice suggesting something that cruel? “He's also a pampered child with no persistence. Some new offense will get his butterfly attention and he'll invade Wildervale for insulting his family's memory...”

Hawke started showing more emotion. “That is garbage. He's never really made something or made the world better. Destroy some bandits. Find some plotters. Destroy a city to avenge one woman. Has he ever done anything as useful as building a bridge or sponsoring an orphanage? Did he personally help any of the meek or humble people like his Chant proclaims? You did. Did he even consider building a chapel down in Darktown, where people needed hope and jobs that Aveline won't arrest them for? No, he tried deal-making with the nobles to help him chase power, ignoring the influence he had.”

“Hawke...”

“No. I spent how many years hoping he'd see just how rotten the Chantry edifice has become. There may be good people there, but most are lazy bigots who can't even follow the words of their prophet. Why didn't the Circle get encouraged to start a clinic like yours? Why was that idiot of a First Enchanter the only one free enough to help fight the Qun? Are they that stupid to think the Circle mages would prefer to become Sarabas?”

I heard a faint wheeze from Sebastian's direction, and realized I should have gagged him. I spoke, hoping to distract her away from her anger. “To be fair, not many know about the Qunari mages.”

“Yes, but he does. And considering the Marches against them, I really hope the Chantry would be training its sisters and brothers especially after what happened in Kirkwall. Many mages are believers or persuadable, but not the Qun. The Qun seem to respect only martial power. The laugh is that they thought I had it.”

“You do, Hawke. You somehow defeated Meredith and escaped the city.” His voice was weak, but the princeling could not shut up, even while he was tied.

She leaped over to haul Vael up and snarl into his face. “My friends and allies stopped her and the idiot Orsino too. When someone goes insane, sane people step up to stop them! Where were you? Wallowing in your rage throughout the emergency? Looking for someone else to act for you? Adults have to put the things aside when lives are at stake.”

Vael glared at me for an instant. “He caused it. How many died who weren't... Elthina?”

“Do you argue about a pickpocket inside a burning house? Anders was standing right there and he confessed. Did the lunatic Templar arrest him? Did she even try? No, why bother with arresting him after he admitted what he did, she rushed away to kill all the others, the innocent ones. She didn't care about guilt, only about destroying innocent mages; proving that it isn't about mages who behave, only about exercising power, the same right to kill innocents like Tevinter has always done. How can you even pretend that is morally superior?” Dera was shaking him, but not poised to slit his throat.

“Elthina was not Meredith...” Sebastian protested.

“No! She was in some ways worse. She set Meredith in place and refused to remove her. How many times did we ask for her help? Even for moderate action to calm both sides. You were there when I tried to convince her to go, she didn't listen to either of us. Sloth or pride, she refused to see the truth about the dangers. Did Andraste sit on her ass when Tevinter ruled the world? Did she proclaim that the magisters and slaves would work it out on their own like the Grand Cleric did? Why would the slavers bother with compromise with Andraste before an army was gathered, they held all the cards in that game of diamondback until there was an army. Meredith did in Kirkwall, too.”

I wanted to grin. Some of this was like what was in my manifesto, but some wasn't.

“If Elthina made a mistake, it was to allow the Champion's pets their freedom; that doesn't mean she should die. She... was a good woman.” Sebastian was trying to get free, but not getting very far.

I knew very well how hard it was to argue when bound or chained. Watching him struggle amused me. He had never suffered what every Circle mage had.

It is right for him to suffer what mages endure with no recourse.

Yes, but we can't keep him like this forever.

Leave him like this, right here, to die alone like the mages do!

That bothered me. Vael was angry at the murder we'd done, the deaths we always knew weren't just: students and any innocent visitors inside the Chantry. They deserved justice too. He wasn't really afraid of mages like Merrill and myself. I'd sometimes thought he might become an ally as his fear was just Chantry teachings, and not fear from his gut.

“... just a single mistake. She would not admit that her so-called plan wasn't working anymore, if it ever might have. Outsiders could see it was failing from hundreds of miles away and came here to warn her to leave Kirkwall for her own safety! You and I tried to convince her too! She said the mages and Templars had to learn compromise like small children, but did nothing to make the bully agree to any change. The mages needed hope, and she not only refused to do anything, but denied them even a hope of improvement in the future by her indecision.” Hawke sighed and seemed to realize the strangeness of their argument and dropped the archer back to the ground.

Sebastian wilted when reminded of Nightingale’s warning and didn't really seem to be listening when Hawke wound down to a stop. Hawke looked at me without the destructive rage she had earlier, a rage that I was afraid would destroy her.

“We need to talk,” I warned her.

Hawke nodded and noticed that Merrill was gone. “Paws, bring Merrill here.”

Between the Dalish mage and the mabari, Vael wouldn't escape.

When she arrived with the mabari, I pulled Dera off into the brush. We moved uphill and we could see Paws and our prisoner through the autumn denuded trees and brush. I pulled Hawke into my arms and held her tight.

“What are we going to do with him, Anders?” Hawke's voice was muffled against my chest. “Why isn't he dead? My blade went through him.”

I didn't quite have the words for my fears when she'd gone berserk. “You were so angry, too angry, Love. I don't want you to become Rage...” I rubbed her hair and tried to smile. Rage was demonic. “One of us with spirit problems is enough.”

“He'll never forgive you for killing Elthina. He was closer to her than his family. He will keep throwing money at assassins to hunt us, and he has a better chance than strangers.” Dera didn't lean back to meet my eyes.

I was afraid to as well. “I knew that I would be hunted, and accepted that months before we left Kirkwall. There is some justice to it, even if I still want to live.”

“It should not have been necessary. They left no peaceful means of change, not even an election of a new Viscount. How can we change things if we can't even convince one man who has seen most of the insanity?” Hawke laughed oddly. “Though he missed Meredith and her enchanted statues.”

Bringing a force to kill us was the first time I knew of that he acted. I suddenly thought it was terribly funny and started to laugh.

Hawke was probably startled and didn't say anything for a bit. She leaned back finally and was irritated. “What is so funny?”

Another snicker or two and I managed to speak clearly. “Don't you think this might be the first time he did something, really did something, without some nanny or minister to make it happen for him? How funny is that? It had to be funny with him dealing with the problems of a bunch of archers and swordsmen instead of retiring to pray.”

Dera's chortle was a relief. “I wonder how much equipment he had to buy? Aveline was always overunning the budget to equip new Guard, which was normal. They all looked like sell-swords, didn't they?”

“They don't look like any kind of trained and drilled troops like the Silver Order in Amaranthine or Aveline's guard. They'd have their own officers.” Justice was sure of that.

“I can just imagine him trying to quote from the Chant while a drunken brawl was spreading in front of him. Few experienced warriors are that interested in listening to a Sister when their blood's up, or when they are trying to enjoy their free time.” Hawke leaned against me again, hugging me close.

She was happier now, or as happy as she'd been for some time. So I had to get back to the hard question.

“What are we going to do with him? Do you really want to kill him?” I did and I didn't want to, and hoped she had a better answer. While he preached the Chant, he had not reported details to the Templars or Chantry about myself and Merrill, as far as I knew. He was biased and repeated their dogma without rational thought, but he was as reluctant to act there as he was in other things.

Hawke sighed and rubbed my back. “Not really. I've never had to kill someone I knew. I don't think we can let him roam free to raise more assassins and warriors.” She was silent for a few minutes.

I had no idea and just kept an eye on Merrill and Sebastian down below us,

Finally Hawke admitted, “It may be that the only way we could trust him is if he gives his word.”

“I'm not convinced he would keep his word about me.” I thought he have might trusted Hawke if I had died.

“I know.” Hawk finally spoke with dark humor. “We'll make him figure out what we should do.”

Leaning back, I had to grin. “He'll want me dead and you to become a Sister, shut away from the world for your sins at best.”

“Those are not on the table.” Shaking her head, Hawke took my hand and started back.

We moved back down and I checked his bindings, enough to make sure they weren't doing any real damage. I healed some of the strain from the bindings but refused to say anything as his glares.

Merrill had folded some blankets under him while we were gone. “He has been terribly grumpy while you were gone. Not even Sir Mew could cheer him up.”

Sebastian glared and stated as if for the tenth time, “I'd asked to be released.”

“You attacked us,” Merrill said pragmatically.

Hawke settled on the ground and said it baldly to Vael. “What do you think we should do with you, Sebastian?”

The surprise on his face was worth it.

Notes:

A/N: Sebastian's story in "Vengeance's Flight" takes place before this chapter, of course.

The chapter title is taken from a quote by David Lloyd George. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be treasured forever.

Chapter 28: The Importance of Facing Demons

Summary:

Now that Sebastian Vael has finally chased Hawke and Anders down, comes the question of what to do with him. He had been a friend and events warrant some outrage...

-- Tevinter Highway, north of Cragscar

Hawke:

I looked at the prince. Well, maybe I glared at him. I was still angry, even if I didn't want to gut him as much now. His record of defying Elthina's edicts made any negotiations with him difficult to believe. I also thought his righteousness might allow him to ignore any agreement with those he considered traitors to the Chantry. So he had to be honest and convincing. I didn't want to kill him but I was running out of options to not kill him.

I would not allow another attack.

“We could unbind him so he can clean himself off. His bright armor might stain with... pink blotches? If it doesn't get cleaned.” Merrill sounded almost cheerful about Sebastian being here, but not exactly.

Sebastian frowned at her, but didn't say anything.

“Right now I don't trust him.” I stated it aloud to put it out in the open again. “He came here to kill us, and came close enough. He was willing enough to attack a city and kill how many innocents just to get at us. That was what he swore before the Maker.”

Vael flushed, but rebutted. “He is a murderer and abomination and should be treated as any other.”

Anders took my hand again and squeezed.

As he did so, I told Sebastian, “That is not up for discussion. What can you offer to convince us why you should live after trying to kill us?”

Vael made a face. “I am not bribing you to live.”

I laughed. “While money is useful, I can't be bought like that.”

Looking like he tasted something sour, Anders commented, “The Hero of Ferelden took the oath from the Crow hired to assassinate them when he lost their battle. I believe that he visited the Vigil, even after the Blight ended.”

As Anders said that, I watched Sebastian's face. It showed more dismay than calculation.

“Would you abide by some oath to not harm us nor aid others to do so, and fight defensively if we are attacked?” I wondered if I was missing some loophole. I'd never read too many of the old romances where the Ser was captured and had to swear an oath like this. The twins had loved those for differing reasons as the captured chevalier was both a mighty warrior and earnest lover.

Angry again, Sebastian said, “I am not taking arms against the forces of the Maker if, no, when, they catch up with him.”

I frowned. While we hadn't fought that many since leaving Kirkwall, there had been some. “Most of our opponents have been bandits or monsters since we last saw you...”

“Some attacked without any idea who I was, they were just attacking any mage who was walking down the street,” Anders put in with controlled wrath. “How many hedge-mages who can barely cause light have been killed like that?”

He was showing the faintest sign of glowing with his anger.

“I don't think we will be able to travel very far with him trussed up like a large bird like some kind of feast.” Merrill was showing worry and looked at Anders as she spoke. “Though their plumage is usually much more colorful... until they are plucked.”

Her image must have caught Anders' fancy and he chortled, calming.

I had to agree with this fundamental problem. “That is an important part of what we must decide. If we cannot trust you at our backs... we can't take you with us like this.”

In a quiet voice Merrill allowed, “Enemies should be changed to allies or corpses, for the good of the clan.”

Looking surprised at that harsher statement, Sebastian insisted, “Where are you going? Or are you merely cowardly fleeing justice for your actions?”

Waving that question aside, I repeated, “That isn't important for you right now, you are the question.”

Sebastian looked pretty angry and demanding for someone still tied up. “Are you seeking Haven?”

I wasn't looking at Anders, but his hand in mine froze and then gripped me painfully tightly.

“What makes you say that?” I'd hoped I'd been more subtle in my information gathering of late. But maybe I hadn't.

“Other than hiding in the Wilds, there aren't many people or mages here to support his cause He canna attack many Templars or Chantries in these lands. Why would a murderous abomination with his goals come here?” Vael seemed honestly puzzled.

“I am not an abomination.” Anders gritted through his teeth again. Then he pulled my hand so I turned towards him.

His stillness said that he wanted me to look at him, but I kept my gaze directed at the ground. I was sure he was looking at me searchingly.

I was afraid to meet his eyes. I'd felt so guilty to keep this secret, so afraid they would get violent because they saw my plan as a threat. At least that hadn't happened... yet. I tried to smile a little when I looked up, but it felt forced.

His smile didn't look forced and he gripped my hand firmly again, tracing my palm with his thumb.

It was so much easier to smile now. He... they weren't angry at me.

“We had once spoken about the Blight and the false Ashes being sold in Lowtown, Hawke,” Sebastian said with a bit of wistfulness.

That made me feel better about him finding us for a moment, no other people hunting us would know that kind of detail. This still left us what to do with him. “And if we are going to Haven, how does that affect your willingness to swear an oath? Are you more or less willing, then? You haven't kept many oaths, have you?”

“Neither has that murderer...”

“How much was that different from the number of murders that came from offering pay for an entire mercenary company to be murdered for your revenge? That's a crime not approved by the Chantry either. Your hands are bloodstained too.” I dearly wanted him to admit his hypocrisy.

His was the face of so many of out opponents over the years.

“Love...” Anders said quietly.

I gritted my teeth for a moment before I spoke again. “If we are going as pilgrims to the Ashes, are you willing to swear an oath to Andraste that you will support that journey and will behave in a trustworthy fashion?”

“I will not fight the Divine's troops,” Sebastian insisted.

“I doubt they will find us. I believe you were the only one sending anyone near us.” Merrill spoke quietly. “Didn't you send those assassins and bounty hunters near Orzammar?”

Looking proud, Sebastian agreed before looking more upset. “Yes, but they died today .”

That was another issue. “How many more are out there? Any who attack us will be killed. You will probably have to fight them too, as none have stopped to chat.”

Looking ill, Sebastian said, “Not that many. Some were sent to other regions.”

“So you will swear a pledge to your god?” Merrill asked him as sharply as any Keeper I'd heard.

Sebastian looked unhappy, even for someone still bound.

“Ha! He's probably wanted to go the Ashes as soon as he realized where we were going!” Anders crowed, in good humor to poke Vael's faith again.

With visible regret, Sebastian closed his eyes and admitted in a whisper, “Yes.”

I watched Sebastian but I could feel that Anders had taken my hand in both of his, just holding it without any other demand.

Merrill caught my eye and rubbed her wrists, which still showed a little blood from the battle.

They might be reminding me that an oath when bound isn't as binding, or just supporting my decision. I slid over and cut Sebastian's bindings. I watched him carefully as I moved back. “Will you swear to work as an ally while we go to find the Ashes and a bit after? If a Chantry force finds us on their own, will you leave any battle to them and move away?”

“What about Templars? They must be hunting him.” Sebastian gestured at Anders with his chin and he rubbed his wrists.

“They are a menace in their pride and lust for temporal power. Even in these more remote areas, I have heard of annulment threatened in towers where the mages weren't revolting, places where they have strong-armed non-mages to get what they want without regard to Chantry law. Attacking random travelers was forbidden. Interrogation of non-mages by torture without evidence was outlawed in Blessed:41, wasn't it?” Those hours or reading that tiny writing of Chantry history was now worth the headache.

Anders muttered, “Meredith was sodding nuts. She made the Gallows statues come to life and attack everyone in the courtyard, not just us, because she was relieved from duty by her second in command.”

Sebastian's eyes bugged on hearing that. “I did not hear any of this...”

“Cullen probably doesn't want to publicly admit to it,” I allowed. “But you knew all those involved so he might confirm it for you. Aveline can too, as could Bethany if you'd believe her. The others all saw her command the statues during the battle.”

“All that could be heard from the city was the sound of metal ringing against stone before falling silent. How could she do that, she was a Templar who had no magic?” The prince was shocked.

Anders' voice was flat. “Tranquil have no connection to the Fade either and they can enchant weapons and armor. Her sword was made of lyrium: raw, tainted, powerful lyrium.”

“Then it was the fault of the lyrium that she went mad!” Vael sounded joyful to have a reason for Meredith's actions.

He couldn't be allowed to shift blame away like that, she was responsible for commissioning a blade out of a poisonous artifact. “No, she made her decisions over and over for how many years? Other Templars were as cruel and didn't have that excuse, she abused her power before the blade could have been made. The blade commissioned by her of a poison, just gave her more power, power enough to ignore even Templar rule in her pride.”

I thought the lyrium made it worse, but if she hadn't commanded the statues, it would have become a civil war within the Templars. I didn't want that for the better ones like Cullen and Keran, I just wanted the cruel ones stopped. Humans did need those like Templars who could hunt bloodmages who killed others for power. But not all mages are corrupted.

“Arrogance and pride...” Sebastian muttered

Rubbing where the bindings had been, Sebastian sat up straight. “On my honor as a son of the Chantry and a Vael, I will assist you in getting judgment for your actions from the Maker. I will step back if a Chantry force finds you for mortal justice. But I will see you face justice.”

Anders jerked his hands holding mine and I turned that way quickly to see him shake with laughter. He was about to speak, but I squeezed his hand. A version of justice was part of our problems, but Sebastian was unlikely to appreciate the irony.

Now was the first test of whether he was going to be trustworthy. I stood, without any signal to Paws to relax and turned my back to the other rogue. One of the stairs up to the Tevinter highway roadbed was less than a bowshot away. It was much smaller than the one in Lothering had been, but still well enough.

I could feel warmth at my side, so Anders stood too. I'd bet my toolkit that they were glaring at each other, but glaring alone wasn't a problem.

“If you want to check and send anything later to next of kin, you will have to do it quickly. We should move the bodies away from the road. We'll burn them and you can say a few words if you want.” I hoped this wasn't going to revive his opposition, but we rarely had the leisure to do this after a fight outside Kirkwall.

I flicked a glance back at him, and Sebastian looked both pleased and uneasy. The uneasy was fine with me. He led these men and women to their deaths; and not only did he fail in his goal, but he survived. He couldn't quite bring himself to object to waking up after he lost, even if we were maleficars and puppet. That we sought Andraste's Ashes for our miracle also didn't fit with his belief that we were damned.

He was bright in other areas and he should have time to chew on that.

It took a while for us to move the bodies off the road, even with a couple of crude litters. It was ugly and messy and hard work. I got a dirty look from Sebastian when I looted them and took his valuables and money from where Paws found the cache.

“Hawke!” Sebastian's outrage was hot.

“What? They attacked us and we loot the bodies, just as we have done for how many years?” I had to remind him that this was not really any different than any of our other battles. He had been the one on the wrong side. He hadn't objected to looting before.

The pause meant he remembered and so he spoke, imploring now. “Those are my things.”

I turned away from an expensive book to look at him. “I seem to remember that captured chevaliers retained only their weapons and armor. Can you remind me otherwise?”

Sebastian flushed and actually stuttered when he spoke. “My... daughter gave me that book. May I have it back?”

Daughter? Vael was about my age but I'd never heard he had any children before. I looked towards Anders, but he and Merrill were out of hearing range right then. My face must have shown my surprise.

“A moment,” I warned Sebastian. I looked at the book, it was a straightforward book of prayers despite the expensive materials. It was lovely and worth many gold.

But.

I wasn't going to deprive someone of a family memento like that. I missed Bethany.

“Here,” I said as I handed it to Sebastian. “How old is your daughter anyway?”

“A dedicated seventeen year-old.” Sebastian's flush hadn't faded, though he ran his fingers over his prize.

Even as he said that, Anders and Merrill had returned and were close enough to hear my question. Anders' face was lit with humor, but all he mouthed was the word 'daughter' as he shook with laughter at the former priest.

Merrill was much more excited and cooed, “A daughter? How sweet. A baby with red hair and those eyes would be so adorable. Is she still as sweet now that she is almost grown?”

Sebastian smiled faintly. “She is very wise for her age and has been sheltered from the court within the Chantry.”

An heir to a prince who did not have the throne? That was not a place I envied the girl for. She had to be a bastard, as he hadn't been married.

Not that it was my problem, really.

Merrill and Sebastian spoke more about his daughter as we worked. He plainly didn't know much about her. I wasn't sure if that was because nobles weren't involved with their children, or he'd been in Kirkwall most of her life and hadn't known she existed. Anders was spoiling to poke him about it, but I stopped him. We could learn more later if Merrill's artless conversation didn't reveal it.

After Sebastian spoke a brief eulogy, Anders lit the bodies with magic, repeating until only ashes remained. We were all quiet. I hoped the smoke wouldn't attract more trouble, but something like a funeral would remind Anders and Sebastian of the costs for their actions.

I remembered the ceremony for my mother, where I'd had no body to focus my grief on. My pain was a bottomless, dark Void. I knew then that I was a bringer of death and my mood couldn't get more black at the size of the pile.

Once the remains were only embers, it was afternoon.

Sebastian had an emptier pack now, without the gem and coin that had probably been pay for his troops. I wasn't worried at him replacing it later when he went home... or even any major city where he had friends or boot-lickers.

I had to hide my smile as we marched with Merrill and Sebastian talking in the lead. We had plenty of funds now, without any more Provings.

We approached the town of Cragscar only a little before full dark. Here was where the shortening days and the time lost to the ambush really hurt our plans.

“Are we staying here, Brana?” Merrill asked carefully as we paused with outer buildings in sight.

I sighed. “I think we have to, we won't be far enough beyond Cragscar to reduce the risk.” To Sebastian, I added, “This town seems to be the center of smuggling and brigands around the lake. We had planned to be well beyond it before dark.”

“Understood... ” Vael looked like he'd tasted something sour. “What are their names?”

Merrill's smile was still sunny in the dusk. “Oh, I'm just Merrill. Humans don't really remember our names very often. He's Hesyal.”

Anders' leather armor and spear finally sank in to the prince before he spoke. “Hesyal.”

“First place that looks relatively safe, we'll take a room.” I took out a thin purse for speaking to the innkeeper. I wasn't fool enough to bring out the larger packets of coin.

The second inn we found, one with an unreadable sign-board, took the silver I paid as surety for a larger room and we got a hot meal before we went to our room. The lock had a suspiciously large key, I thought Merrill could unlock it and put a noise snare on it. Anders and I crowded on the larger cot; our pets wanted close too, but Paws didn't fit.

Late at night Paws began to growl and barked a few times. I woke and rolled out of bed, drawing my weapons as I heard the others rouse to alertness. Not bothering to quiet my voice while I stood near the door, I said, “Yes, puppy, you can chew on their balls.”

The nearly inaudible noises at the door stopped, evidently they didn't trust their skill against awakened targets. I gestured that the others could sleep again once I was sure they were gone, and I kept watch until I woke Anders after a while.

Merrill woke me after dawn and we left Cragscar, heading up the river. An hour later, after an awkward silence as we walked, I knew I had to make an effort to break it.

“Well, Sebastian, how did you meet your daughter? I would have been willing to swear you didn't have any children...” I kept my tone light, hoping he wasn't the kind to abandon his child knowingly.

There was a pause before he answered. “She is serving as a Sister in the royal chapel, and I met her there when I... wanted guidance.” He laughed without humor. “I didn't realize who she was until after we'd spoken for a while.”

“You must have been very happy to have family again. It is hard to lose family.” Merrill sounded sad, even if she'd never mentioned her own close kin.

I'd lost most of mine, and Anders had lost his long ago. I almost felt jealous of Vael for an instant to have gotten more family. I'd always thought I'd become a doting aunt.

“She was well cared for and is a wise young woman. It is a joy to the Maker for the young to embrace the Chant.” Sebastian didn't quite sound joyful, almost forced when he quoted someone.

He had changed, and I wasn't sure if he'd realized it yet. Anders drew breath and I swung to touch his arm and then take his hand. No fights for a bit. We had days, maybe weeks, to get through and should try to avoid some brawls. I knew I'd start a fight too if I mentioned how many times I'd suggested that he go back home after the plotters were exposed.

We walked in silence again for another hour. Squeezing Anders' hand I asked Anders to tell a story from the Blight. I'd been hoping he'd tell of the Crow, but instead he told stories about a dwarven fighter who was always drunk, even in the Deep Roads. Our mood was lightened, and everyone laughed at the warrior's propositioning Amaranthine nobility, married or not.

As we climbed up into the hills and away from Lake Calenhad, two men stepped out of the brush and demanded, “Your money or your life.”

I wanted to laugh. After yesterday's attack, this seemed so funny. “I don't think so. Heysal, how many pieces can I make of them?”

The leader shouted and maybe a dozen appeared out of their hiding places. Anders didn't use any magic this time. Perhaps from our recent talk of his time with the Wardens, he'd shouted 'For the Grey' once. One attacker blanched at that but none were smart enough to flee. We looted the bodies, and Vael said a few neutral words to the Maker this time after we dragged them off the road. This group was just bandits and could rot. I divided up the few coins they had before standing to move on.

“Hawke?” Sebastian asked in surprise at his small pile of coins.

“Trustworthy means you get a share now, just like any other missions we've done. You know I hate slavery of any kind.” I really didn't know what else to say and turned away; not giving him a share felt petty.

“Hawke.” Anders pulled me into an embrace.

I relaxed there for what felt like the first time in days or weeks. I whispered to him, “I'm so proud of how you're doing.”

“It's getting harder again, Love,” he admitted just as quietly. “I don't really want to relax too much with him here. I don't think we can trust him that far.”

There was a spritz of rain as we walked that was just enough to steal away some of my warmth. It dried long before we made camp. That night was the first time in many weeks that Anders wrote again with a too-familiar intensity. Sebastian was suspicious and Merrill worried. Sir Mew didn't understand why they couldn't play.

I nearly wanted to panic, but was afraid to confront them with Sebastian present. I left him write for a while as I thought in circles. Finally I decided this couldn't wait. We didn't know what would face us in Haven, a corrupted dragon would be less dangerous now than Chantry.

“I'm going to have to interrupt this,” I told Merrill and Vael. “Could you keep Paws and Mew with you, Merrill?”

“So what?” Sebastian said with some anger. “At least he cannot destroy a Chantry here.”

I looked at him, “He hasn't done this since several weeks before we left Kirkwall. I don't want him going down that path again...”

“He shouldna be alive to go on any path after that many innocent deaths.” Sebastian's voice had the slightest of tremors of grief.

Now I was glaring at him. “I will not allow him to do that again. I am made his jailor and he... they will not repeat what happened in Kirkwall.” My stomach was full of acid and my dinner not settled.

“So the Grand Cleric and all the people in the Chantry weren't important enough for you to end the danger, to bloody your knives?” Vael taunted me, though he made no moves for his weapons.

“His act was not wicked or cruel, much more merciful than destroying minds leaving a walking shell like some kind of zombie, cut off from the Fade and the Maker's call. How can...” I cut myself off before I was tempted to act. “Anyone who doesn't glory in cruelty and power deserves a second chance if they repent. Isn't that the word in Transfigurations?”

“Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift...” Vael started to say.

“It is a gift then, and not a curse, not a reason to be ashamed and imprisoned when they have not turned it against His children! What about the verse that says 'without provocation' that is forgotten by the Templars and Chantry? Show me verse from the earlier Canticles, most influenced by Andraste and her direct followers that mages must be locked up even if they have done no crime. Child mages certainly don't deserve prison.”

“Child mages cause many deaths and loss of property, that is how they are discovered.”

Fear and lack of training caused that. Bethany grew out of that, thank the Maker. “Accidents or childish tantrums are trained out by parents, right? Parents guide and don't lock them up for the rest of their lives for one mistake. Making errors is part of growing up, and how many sword trainees injure someone by mistake but that's just part of training. Wouldn't you try to escape if you were imprisoned against your will, even if it wasn't unpleasant?” I'm not sure if I could live in prison like that, and one of Anders' comments once said that many died far too young by their own hand.

“No, I...” Sebastian choked on that and stopped to swallow. “Yes, I did, but I am not a mage. I cannot destroy...”

“You and an army can lay waste to another country, even without magic. You had no more choice in whether you are a mage than Anders did. He worked hard to help people as a healer and even Warden for a long time before today. He's controlled that spirit for how many years now and I will help him as long as he keeps trying to make things better...” I stumbled to a stop and felt very tired suddenly. “That is my hope, my 'unquenchable flame, All-consuming, and never satisfied,' to free him from his dark spirit. I'm going now with a palliative, which is both dangerous and in short supply.”

“I will watch your pets, Hawke.” Merrill said calmly.

Reminded of what I was planning to do, I could feel my face warm. Anders would soon be very affectionate, and I wondered if he got drunk this way too. I grabbed a torch, our blankets from the tent, and whistled for Paws to help guide me to a sheltered brush away from the camp. Anders didn't seem to notice me doing this as he hunched, scribbling in the light reflected inside the tent.

When I was ready, I snatched the quill from his hand.

“Hawke, I'm busy,” he said gruffly, reaching for it absently.

“You've been writing long enough for now.”

He roughly retrieved the quill with his longer arms, fairly easily. “Nothing has changed, despite our visiting terror on them in answer to theirs. They must be ground into dust until their acts have been returned to them four-fold. They rule by terror of magic and so they must learn real fear.” Anders was glowing without his mage staff being active.

“They cannot learn if they are dead. Change will take time, Justice. Other Circles could not be prepared when you acted. Or they will do stupid shit like Orsino did.”

He closed his eyes, looking a bit sad even if he still glowed. The sadness had to be Anders more than Vengeance. “They tried to fight, those mage corpses we saw in the courtyard. It was not just for them to be condemned for our actions.”

“We will try something else, something to help the ones who want their freedom, once we know who wants it.” Waiting was hard enough for me and I had years of practice.

“They have been cowed and made Tranquil for so long they know only fear. They cannot be free as long as Templars exist!”

“Templars are the army of the Chantry. Violence cannot erase fear, that's not how emotions work. For now we must regroup and heal.” I pulled out the first vial.

“I will not be tempted away from my cause...”

I sighed. “You must rest, in case we are attacked by our enemies. Drink this, please.” I felt so very cheap doing this, somehow.

Anders' eyes widened and head wavered. “We don't have that much that we can do this.”

“We don't have that far to go.” I was pinning all my hopes on the Ashes now. I pulled him up to exit the tent and towards where our blankets were. It was going to be a chilly night, but frost was better than company.

Lighting his staff, he saw that Merrill and Vael were sitting around the embers of the fire. Anders grimaced and I might have seen a flash of Justice, but he, they smiled and followed me into the brush, hand in hand.

Notes:

This chapter title is inspired by a quote by Stephan Jenkins. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 29: The Last Miles of Pilgrimage

Summary:

With the addition of Sebastian, the last days of the pilgrimage to Haven are not very peaceful. But Haven is not that friendly to pilgrims.

-- West of Cragscar and Lake Calenhad, the mountain road

Anders:

Keeping my temper had been like dancing on the edge of a dwarven ax all day. The princeling had been pushy about the loss of that woman too often. I regretted, no, deeply mourned, the loss of children or other innocents inside the Chantry that day. But his heavy handed mentions of the too early deaths of the Grand Cleric and other Sisters surely did not have the effect he expected.

He never lamented the deaths of those without vocation, like children or cooks, only Elthina. Nor did he even remember that many of the mages who died during the Templar attack at the Gallows were innocents and children too.

Hawke left Vael and I sniping at each every so often, but didn't contribute much. I tried not to feel betrayed, but the grasp of her hand told me she agreed with me.

She is not dedicated to the mages, no matter what she says! Those blades are dull and must be honed to be of use.

Shut it.

Are you still convinced she will fight for mages, or will she waver?

She will be killed too, just for helping us.

We cannot remain idle like this, the Templars are closing their fists while we wander. We must take the fight to them!

Her plan for six months is sound.

We must make plans, take advantage of their weaknesses, and rally the mages to the fight.

What do you think we can do to take advantage of their flaws?

Back and forth that went for the last hours of our march. After we ate, I dug my book out of my pack and started jotting ideas for other Circles.

My fingers were sore and ink spattered when Hawke stole my quill.

She has yielded to sloth and is only an obstacle to us freeing the mages.

Of course not.

Justice wanted to argue with her despite my objections, but he stopped objecting quite as strongly when she brought a vial of lyrium out. I already was quite fond of this: him shutting up so I could have uninterrupted time with her.

Once I'd downed two of the vials, I could only hear a humming inside. The air was cold until we were wrapped in the blankets and bedding, or was it that I was wrapped around Dera? At last she stopped shivering, but her expression bothered me. Then I realized that she hadn't really spoken since we left the camp.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts even as my hands slid along her thighs. Finally I managed to slow and ask. “Love? What's wrong? We're far enough from Chantry-boy, unless you think Merrill will manage to seduce him. … No, I'm not sure Andraste herself could get Vael to loosen up that much.”

That got me a snicker and a brush of her lips against my skin.

Still, something was wrong. I couldn't resist holding her close, but secrets were too often dangerous. I understood why she hadn't told me of her plan. Justice didn't really believe, but now... Merrill didn't react, so they had already spoken. And I'd bet she's pried all she could out of Sigrun too.

Did she have more secrets? I'd given her permission to do what was necessary, but I'd expected a quick execution if I lost control again, not secrets. I could not like this distance that had not ended when I learned where we were going.

By this time we both were still in each others' arms.

Would she, could she, tell me if she had any more secrets?

“Hawke.” Why couldn't I find any words through the humming? I pulled back. One of the hardest things I've ever done. “No secrets. What's wrong?”

Dera spoke in a bare whisper. “You began writing, with the same dangerous intensity as for your manifesto. You sounded like Justice was angry again when we spoke. I'm not sure I can...” Her voice petered out.

She couldn't find words either, which made me feel a little better.

Breathing a sigh into the crook of her neck, I admitted, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” As for the bronto I feared was in the room, I was now afraid to ask. What could she do but lie? I'd built her mistrust brick by brick and promised I would do whatever it took for her to trust me again after Kirkwall and still I grew closer to threatening her every day.

I kissed her forehead and then her lips, praying the Ashes were a miracle and not just magic like one dwarf thought. I didn't want to tell her that. “Everything's fine now, you should rest.”

As hard as it was to say, her sigh and quickly dropping off to sleep told me that she had been afraid more than she wanted admit. I finally slept after another vial.

I was slobbered on enough to wake me in the morning, and it was cold. We gathered our things and returned to the camp. Our food supplies had been replenished with rations from Vael's force, so they were already eating. We ate quickly and set off again climbing into the hills, passing quickly through a hunting village late morning without any problem.

Mid-afternoon, we spotted a group of travelers ahead of us. We were traveling more quickly than they, much more quickly. I could see why as soon as we caught up with them.

The travelers were a pair of older Fereldans, familiar with each other in the way of kin or long lovers. They weren't wealthy and had no weapons. The one was having trouble walking, but he only had a crude crutch, freshly made. I didn't like his color either.

Hawke hailed them, though I drifted over to the older man, reminded of aging and the unlikelihood that I would reach his age.

“We are safe enough now, through Andraste's grace.” He spoke with the concentration of someone in pain. “I am Donel, and this is Kendil. We faced a threat and were blessed enough to overcome it last night.”

Eying the blood that visibly soaked through some of their clothing, Sebastian asked, “Maker's blessing on you. What attacked you?”

Kendil spoke with the slight slurring of exhaustion. “A wolf, huge wolf. It weren't afraid of the fire until I kicked the embers at it.”

“Yes, Kendil saved us. You are wise to travel with a mabari, my friends.” Donel smiled, even as he slowly settled onto the ground.

I traded glances with Hawke, and could almost hear her warning to be careful.

She waved at me, saying, “Heysal here did poultices and surgery on a pirate ship, or so he claims. Maybe he can take a look at your injuries.”

“We have nothing to pay you, we are pilgrims for Her blessings,” Donel said.

That shouldn't have been surprising. “No need. I am experienced with bandaging, as she said. Could someone get water? I need to clean the injuries before I get the salve out...”

Their wounds were dirty and poorly bandaged, but that I could repair easily. More tricky, with these pilgrims and Vael watching was for me to use only the barest trickles of magical healing only after I applied the poultices. They were good recipes, which would have done much alone.

By the time I had treated Donel under his friend's watchful eye, Hawke was looking over the terrain and speaking with Sebastian and Merrill quietly.

The salve eased his injury, and Kendil gripped my shoulder. “Maker bless you... Surely Andraste looks over us to bring you here.”

He was much more talkative about the Maker than most of those I'd cared for in Darktown, or less bitter, and I was careful to not look at Sebastian. We'd probably argue.

Hawke stepped over and said, “We should probably stay with you, for tonight at least, and give you some time to heal.”

Sebastian fumed for a second, but then stopped when he saw the relief on the pilgrims' faces. “We will accompany you at least until the next village, where you should rest before continuing.”

With the slightest of grins, Hawke took Sebastian with her, and they came back with enough branches and saplings to make a stretcher. Vael was volunteered along with Kendil to carry Donel. We soon left, and I hoped we might reach the next village before dark.

We weren't far, and made some torches to cover the last distance to the small inn. Hawke ordered the smaller room for the pilgrims and we took the larger. Once we'd eaten, and they were settled in their room, Sebastian entered our room and his hidden fuming came out into the open.

“Do not think that healing like that will balance the scales in the Maker's eyes for what you have done!” A brief pause and he added, still loudly, “Heysal. Spreading bloodshed, death, and destruction of innocents makes pirates like you unfit. Nothing you do now can make up for those deaths, you cannot buy your way to the Maker's side.”

For an instant I wanted to laugh at this speech as he had seemed to like Isabela, despite his words now. But he was abiding by his oath, even in his disapproval, and I hadn't denied that I would pay.

Forcing myself to speak quietly I told him, “I never thought it would, that's not why I do it. I have studied herbs and poultices for most of my life, only rarely as for the pirates, have I been able to practice my skills where people need them.” I looked at Hawke in warning. “I will probably die in the darkness, alone.”

Sebastian looked puzzled. Like the others of the Chantry and Templars, he could not understand that I wasn't doing this for power or wouldn't stop for some cookie the Maker would give to beaten Circle mages.

Hawke looked annoyed again at my reminder that I did not want her to go into the Deep Roads with me when my Calling came. She shut the door, while Merrill seemed to be ignoring our argument.

The argument appeared to have ended, as my agreeing with him had taken the wind out of his sails. But I seemed to have ended one, only to start another, as Hawke was angry at my plans for my Calling. She could have a better life for twenty years or more after me.

My wonder was that I had been with her so long already.

Stepping over to her, I slid my hand down to hold her arm and tried to coax her out of her irritation. “Love, are you still hungry? We could find you a sandwich.”

Dera smiled slightly at her old private joke before frowning and poking me in the chest with a finger. “You know better.”

I didn't know how to convince her, but I was happy we weren't going to fight about it again. Sliding my arms around her, kisses were as far as I thought we could get with Chantry boy in company. Dera didn't like others nearby even if I didn't mind as much.

In the morning we arranged for the pilgrims to rest here for three days while Donel healed. I checked his wounds one more time and showed his companion how to treat him before we set out. Once we were back on the dirt road, it was a relief to stop being the pirate healer, though Sebastian was being silent and moody.

Merrill and I discussed the herbs I'd used and which to watch for as we traveled. The herbal I'd studied in the Orzammar outpost used some plants more common in these higher elevations. Hawke was talking more to Paws.

It took two more days of uphill travel into the mountains where we found a small inn, a cleaner one than usual. The innkeeper finally confirmed that Haven was further into the mountains after Hawke slipped him some extra silver. We'd need to take a side path that veered further south, though it was now the more traveled path because of pilgrims who heard tales of the Warden, the Arl, and the Ashes. He was the first who had information or interest.

We set out in the morning and were ambushed just outside of the village. Justice was enraged when he saw that the one attacker had worked at the inn last night and he killed them quickly. I wrestled control back before we could charge back and attack the innkeeper.

Hawke looked up from the bodies, and said unhappily, “I'd prefer to leave them to rot like most bandits, but their kin are only a stone's throw away.”

Sebastian put in with disapproval, “And perhaps they need to learn true charity towards pilgrims as well.”

It was a pleasant change for him to disapprove of someone else.

There was wailing from some and anger at us as being brigands to attack their people, but Hawke with her large blade and Vael with him speaking as a disapproving Brother of the Chantry settled the angry ones. Sebastian offered to speak for a funeral service if it was soon.

The innkeeper's reaction was not of surprise and the anger came too late, but he hadn't spoken.

“You knew, or you told them to attack! How many have lost their possessions or lives?” I shouted, trying to outrace my spirit's outrage. I don't want to destroy this village, they are not all guilty!

He has caused how many deaths? He has not paid for his betrayal of travelers, of us.

We cannot kill innocents!

During the seconds of my distraction, Hawke had Celebrant out and pointed at him. “How many pilgrims have you done this to?

“Just the wealthy ones, with armor or coin,” the innkeeper said, eyeing the blade tip only inches away from his face.

“Or maybe the ones that appeared wealthy?” Merrill asked quietly as some of the other villagers started to understand what was happening.

“Look, supplies are expensive up here, merchants don't visit much and we need it to survive the winter.” The innkeeper made the too familiar noises of justification.

“Those who do harm their brothers and sisters, to their livelihood and to their peace of mind are not beloved of the Maker. I suggest you find a different way, before you lose everything, my son.” Sebastian looked down his nose as he spoke.

The argument shifted as those who hadn't known argued with the few that did.

After a moment, Hawke whistled. When the talking quieted she told them, “We aren't staying. If you want the brother to do a service, you can argue later.”

We lost another couple of hours for the service, but Hawke did confirm the path to Haven with several of the others this time. We should reach Haven tomorrow or the next day.

It wasn't tomorrow, we had an autumn storm blow up and rain became sleet. We used an extra tarp that we acquired to keep our crowded tent nearly dry.

The last slope into Haven was a steep wash, with loose stones and slippery mud until it leveled out in a small village. The first local I spotted was a teen, chopping wood inside a fenced yard. He didn't hail us, but hurried inside the nearest home.

Remembering bits of what the Warden said, I couldn't help feeling uneasy. Finding an extra insane version of the Chantry like she did was not what I was hoping for. A barking dog was cut off with yip and a belfry I hadn't noticed on the house roof began to ring. Quiet noises of industry, churns, wheels, and bellows that were barely audible stopped. The only noises I could hear from around us now were livestock.

I looked at Hawke and gripped my spear, lowering the point for quick action. She looked wary. Even the Chantry-boy was frowning. Maybe he expected some grand building and crowds of fair maidens to throw flower petals in front of his feet. Merrill stepped quietly, managing to blend into even the autumn landscape.

A man in the simpler and sturdy clothing of areas far from cities, came outdoors, tying a cloak on with dark stained hands. “You've reached Haven, what business brings armed strangers here so close to winter?”

Hawke stepped forward to say, “We are pilgrims, armed for protection against attack, seeking the Ashes of Andraste.”

“Isn't everyone?” he asked rhetorically. “Your trip may be in vain, as no pilgrims have gotten to the Ashes for some time. There are many protections and dangers in these mountains and few have ever passed further than the hostel that was built a few years back. Visit the hostel, pray over relics they have if you want, but winter is almost overdue so you should return to the lowlands for your own safety.”

“Aren't there any Sisters here to help pilgrims and care for the Ashes?” Sebastian wondered, sounding a little scandalized.

The other man looked shifty for a moment, but answered quickly enough. “Yes, Sisters and warriors arrived after that Brother took word to Denerim. Few have remained very long when faced with defeating a glacier.”

The sun was descending rapidly on this side of the mountain, and Mew dug in and warming my neck as colder air blew down from the mountaintop. The path continued up the mountain, a wide and traveled wash that was cleared of any underbrush.

I wasn't exactly sure if I wanted to face Chantry and Templars when I was tired. I wasn't here to fight them despite the growing anger within, so I remained silent as Sebastian asked about the Chantry and Hawke asked about supplies and an inn.

Ignoring Vael's question, the other man waved up the hill. “We don't like strangers coming here to display their faith like a shining bauble. Some have been a menace, and our families were nearly wiped out by pilgrims bringing their sins with them years ago. Life is hard here, and we have just enough for our families. Pay your respects and move on.”

Relics are often on display and various Chantries argue over which one had this or that piece of remains. I had read of many even while still a student, wondering if any of the miracles were really healing mages like myself. But this was unexpectedly hostile. Were these pilgrims after the Blight, or was he referring to the Warden? I didn't think I should mention her.

Sebastian looked like he wanted to charge up the hill immediately, but even he seemed disquieted at the man's attitude. This wasn't the eager greed that crows around true or false relics, but resentment over our arrival.

The longer this talk had gone on, the more the silence from the buildings around us bothered me. I stepped a little closer to Hawke, taking a sip of water from my flask to disguise my wariness. I didn't spot any children and nothing other than a few wild birds or insects were moving.

Forcing some cheer I finally spoke. “Then to the Chantry we will go! I will say that sleeping in a warm bed would be a great improvement over the rocky dirt of the last few days.”

“I will be glad to visit the Sisters and Brothers here,” Sebastian said. He looked a little sour to be agreeing with me, but he would have no qualms living in a Chantry.

I wondered if he could manage to keep to his oath, and what would happen if he failed.

He dies first. Then we will sweep through this outpost.

That wasn't a surprise, and we probably could. This could be a problem for me if there were still some kind of tests in the Gauntlet. I was careful not to think about the tests that the Warden had told campfire tales of. I doubted I could pass any Chantry test. Vael's knowledge would be much deeper than what Hawke had been studying.

The local man told us we only needed to go uphill to reach the Chantry, and he walked alongside us as we moved through the silent village. One building looked like a store of some kind, even if it lacked a signboard. It was not pointed out as we passed, showing a severe lack of interest in pilgrim money.

No one else came into view until a larger building was visible. It looked like a Chantry, but not quite as it was made mostly of wood without even the pretense of stone. There were two large statues beside the entrance, along with the usual banners and fresh paint. But the building was off in some way, and some of the smaller statues were different in style and pose. Bits of what Attryne told me were at the edge of my memory; some Brother who'd been searching had been captured and nearly killed here... a cult that should have been ripe for a March if the Warden had not destroyed what was in the way of fighting against the Blight.

The man who led us uphill didn't enter, but hurried downhill.

Inside the layout felt off, even if we were greeted by a young and earnest Sister in the familiar robes. Sebastian took over the conversation and nearly glowed with his happiness at being inside a Chantry.

What seemed odd to me was that she was nearly the only female introduced from the Chantry people as she gave us a tour. Many were wearing a different style of robes, aside from the differences for the cold. Sister Marjorie introduced us to the Mother who was in charge, but it had to be nominal because of her age, and that there was a Brother that the others deferred to just as much. Vael warmed to him as almost an equal.

That insane cult Attryne mentioned might still exist; they worshiped dragons as Andraste reborn. I looked at Hawke, but she was only wary. Sebastian was lapping up the respect being given to the Brothers here. Merrill was being curious. They didn't know. Hawke had relaxed ever so slightly on meeting the Sister and on not seeing any Templars.

I couldn't. A Twisted version of the Canticles was not any better if dragons were involved.

I hadn't read many of the tales printed about the Blight, but just now I realized how little was in the ones I read about events here in Haven. The only thing that was in every version was a greater dragon and smaller ones blocking the way into where the Ashes were, how the Grey Wardens became dragon slayers almost as practice for the Archdemon. That didn't match the Warden I knew so I'd ignored the stories.

Soon we left the Central halls of this Chantry and we entered colder spaces that were the plainer bunk rooms common for Chantry housing. There were study areas and chapels and private rooms; not many, so they were crowded for the people here, and as little privacy as in my Circle days.

Sister Marjorie hadn't guessed that Hawke and I were together, or maybe that wasn't allowed, so she showed us to four bunks that were fairly close to a fireplace, before showing us the common areas for study, prayer, and eating. The chill and strong drafts away from the Chantry itself said that the place still wasn't repaired from the long damages that the Warden had shivered at telling.

I was going to be cold and unable to use magic to warm myself, making my mood fouler. Now there were Templars about, as we got further into the complex. They were alert, but only some of their attention was on us, some was further in and away from the entrance and the Chantry. Their clipped tones and hard eyes reminded me of the darkest days at the Vigil, when attack was immanent.

The Knight-Captain Ormonde's voice was flat when he told Sebastian, “I'm sorry, Ser, but it is not safe to seek the Ashes now. It would show wisdom to pray and study briefly before seeking another relic.”

Hawke finally spoke, “It was not safe to travel here with brigands and wild animals. There are more pilgrims who we passed on our way.”

His face falling, the Templar said, “You are welcome to remain here, but we are awaiting reinforcements so I cannot say when you will be able to visit the Ashes.”

For a moment I wondered what it was, dragons?. That quarry near Kirkwall seemed to be one of their favorite nesting places. Was this another one?

Merrill wondered before I could ask anything, “Did you eat these Ashes too? What did it do to you, to taste your saint?”

That made me look at Vael and the Templar to see if either would get angry at one of her questions. While the prince looked angry, the Templar didn't.

He smiled serenely and said, “The taste wasn't different, but Her grace was wondrous. I came here to protect the Ashes not long after the Blight, a way to serve in my last days as my vision clouded and reason faded. But then I Saw, and I have served here ever since.”

Hawke asked, “So you have been to the Ashes yourself? What I've heard is conflicting and even unbelievable.”

“I'm sorry, I do not remember much that would help you.” He sounded like he meant it. “I probably did not have long left until the lyrium finished clouding my mind and others bore the brunt of the challenges,” He paused a moment and looked searchingly at Hawke and then at Merrill who was close.

“We must do something...” Sebastian started to say, but then he floundered when he realized that he forgot what name to use for her.

Interrupting him was almost too amusing. “Brana, I don't think we have a choice.”

Gesturing at our worn weapons and armor, Hawke said, “We're experienced mercenaries and have fought terrible beasts.”

“These are not just beasts but dragons, and have already killed too many, pilgrims and Brothers. I pray that the Knight-Commander will call the faithful here in this time of troubles. You will be safe in the shelters and Haven has not caught their attention aside from the occasional stolen livestock.” He seemed honestly worried about us.

We exchanged glances, with Sebastian looking the most uneasy. I realized that he hadn't been with us in any of our visits to the Bone Pit when there had been any of the dragons. He looked a little apprehensive, but didn't look like he'd bolt.

I would have preferred Aveline be with us or even Oghren, but we didn't really have a choice.

Hawke almost looked like she wanted to pat the Templar's shoulder. “We've faced a dragon before, my first was during the Blight after facing darkspawn. We'll leave in the morning, if we can leave some of our bulkier equipment here, Ser.”

My stomach suddenly dropped out as sounds became hollow.

Let the drake eat them all! They should not be protected!

Notes:

A/N: The chapter title was inspired by a quote from John Donne.

Chapter 30: The Less Reasonable the Cult, the More Violent their Dragon

Summary:

Knowing that you will face a dragon can be a strain. Facing a bunch of them will be a mess for Hawke and her group.

-- Haven, Chantry Hostel

Hawke:

I wasn't that happy to be facing a dragon without the help of either Fenris or Aveline. That last Varterral was different, we didn't know about it ahead of time. Nor was I familiar with the terrain. We'd fought so many dragons around the Bone Pit, I knew the terrain. This was new.

But then my attention was caught by seeing the skin around Anders' eyes start to crack and blue light shine through it like he was only a broken window.

I was afraid, afraid this could happen now, just when we were so close!

Jumping over to Anders, I gripped his shoulder and pulled him towards me. “Don't, just don't, damn you!”

Our eyes met, only inches apart, and they didn't have his warm brown for what seemed forever. But they slowly changed back and he sagged for a moment. I hugged him tightly, briefly, barely noticing that his staff had dropped to the stone floor.

Quietly he whispered to me, “I'm tired, Love. He never rests and I cannot dream anymore.”

I rubbed his back, mourning with him. “I'm here...” The words I wanted to say might be a lie and I choked. I didn't want to let him go, but I would if it would be better for him.

When I returned to paying attention to the people around us, Merrill was asking about the dragons and chattering about the ones we'd fought. I hadn't heard her mention Kirkwall or the Bone Pit, but my attention had not been on their talking.

Without the work of setting up a campsite, we had some time free to relax or read and more light to do so. I kept an eye on Anders when we spent time in a small library, which had some very old tomes that looked like they hadn't been read in ages. I read through a few of them and found a really old and worn Orlesian romance with fainting damsels and a brave younger son. Sebastian read from that fine prayer book his daughter gave him. Merrill found one that looked even older and was intently copying it. Anders was writing, which alarmed me after the last time, but he was thoughtful and revising what he wrote, not frantic.

None of us spoke much through the evening, it felt almost like a vigil. I was surprised that Sebastian didn't spend the evening in some chapel, but he seemed to be thinking or praying.

We had bunks in a colder area that was considered safe, though there were a few holes somewhere in the walls that hadn't been well patched. Once the few younger Sisters or Templars had settled into their bunks I slipped from mine and crowded with Anders into his.

Anders woke enough that he sighed and gathered me close so that we both balanced on his bunk; he slipped deeper into sleep again.

I stayed awake for a while, my worries about him increased by the heavy weight of knowing we would face a dragon tomorrow. Despite waiting for so many things, knowing when wasn't much better. Too much depended on getting past the dragon.

Had it been less than a year since we faced the last one in the Bone Pit? Thinking back, it was, but so much had happened since then. So much, that that battle had 'only' a dragon, as terrible as it was.

The Ashes loomed higher than this one too, but I had to help Anders get free from his craving for vengeance. Freedom was the important fight, and living free would be the best revenge.

I was woken earlier than I would have liked by some bells. Sebastian scrambled to attend a service and tried to convince me, at least, to go.

He seemed surprised at my foul mood when woken that early, but no posturing now would change the Maker's favor over our hopes. While he was gone, we packed and repacked our supplies. The Ashes were truly only a walk away, and we would not need all of our bulky camping and travel supplies. We would need our fighting gear, healing supplies, and a little food and water.

When the service was over, a communal breakfast was available. It was finer than we'd had, perhaps since we left Kirkwall, but I was anxious to go and filched some of the more portable rolls and dried fruit for later in the day.

Ser Ormonde came to lead us inward shortly after we finished eating. He seemed surprised when he saw us in our true armor. We could not afford to use our weaker armor against a dragon. My Champion set was much more obviously expensive, with bits of gold inlaid and smoothly part of the enchanted armor. He even looked wary at seeing Anders, who was back in his dark robes.

Anders was quiet and thinking when the Templar arrived, but mock saluted Ormonde when he noticed.

Sebastian looked almost embarrassed but didn't say anything.

Clutching a book, Merrill earnestly asked Ormonde, “May I have this book? It is very enlightening and I would like to study from it longer.”

Ormonde took it and frowned until he saw the binding. “I will have to check with Mother Erda while you are gone. We cannot afford to pay you for opening the path to her Ashes... but.”

Merrill looked happy at the promise of an old book and nearly bubbled her thanks.

While this was happening, Sebastian fumed a little at the reminded weight of who we were and the secrets he had to keep. Or maybe that his pure white armor was no longer the prettiest.

Maybe I was being petty.

Along with two other, younger Templars, Ormonde led us through a wide corridor that was made of recent construction like most of the hostel, but the passage was slightly dusty with disuse.

Looking at us again Ormonde gave me a large key. “Don't you need your blade against the dragon?”

I looked and him and forced a smile despite my growing tension. “My sword cuts down on thugs trying to intimidate. Now it's just dead weight. If we don't...” I stopped because I had no one I could leave it to. “Give it to the Wardens.” They didn't hunt mages and Bethany would never want it.

Paws was sniffing the air and growled quietly. I considered leaving him and Ser Mew here where it was safer, and even opened my mouth to say it but my mabari's gaze was so serious as he cast about for the scent. This wasn't Darkspawn, that Anders could warn us about before we saw them. He reached up to pet his kitten and I remembered his stories of Ser Pounce. I doubted a dragon was any more of a threat than hoards of Darkspawn. Maybe I just didn't have the willpower to leave Paws behind right now.

"Love...” Anders called me from my thoughts, looking serious.

Shaking it off, I noticed we were alone now; the Ser must have returned to the safer section. Forcing my hands to be steady, I unlocked the doors. Through a double door was a short hall that opened up into a vary large hall made of stone with the the brisk air of outdoors.

We stepped into the hall and I could see that it had either been only partly rebuilt since the blight or it had deteriorated since the dragon came. The windows were mostly broken and there was a large hole in the roof. My imagination told me that a dragon tried to land on it, but there was no evidence. There was a very large statue of Andraste in the hall looming over the pilgrims. There was more seating for services like in Lothering, but I doubted they'd need more than seating for a hundred pilgrims despite the large space. Cold air and even some snow flurries blew in through the hole, but the hall seemed disused rather than dangerous.

“Maker, thy gentle wind refreshes our hearts in every fiery trial and anguish, be our protection and shelter in time of need. Andraste be our help in affliction, our comfort in adversity...” Sebastian spoke quietly, but with more intensity than his usual prayers.

Maybe I wasn't the only one feeling strain.

Anders threw Vael a dirty look, but I was jittery too, and I had faced many more dragons. There were doors off to the side, ones that had plainly been nicer once. The one hallway and its rooms looked like they had been stripped, leaving only painted decorations and small statues aside from the usual furnishings. The other led to several rooms with fewer decorations and even a few damaged armor stands.

They had smaller images of Andraste and other kinds of shelves. Anders confirmed it. “Templar quarters.”

More was left behind, including a few chests that were still full, but I found myself unwilling to disturb them.

The last doors from the ruined Chantry were along the far wall from the entrance and were locked. The key I was given worked without any resistance, and I wondered how long they had abandoned this section. This area was much nicer, with even gilding and almost elegant seating. It felt like the entryway of some Hightown estate.

Checking the two side passageways was as quiet as the areas behind us. One side had what looked like very fine rooms at an inn. There were no personal possessions there and nothing valuable or small enough to tempt me to grab. The other side led directly into a ruined hallway and huge pieces of ice and rock that seemed to be in the process of destroying the hallway completely.

Further in was another statue of Andraste, wearing different clothing. Bare of anything but decoration, I paused to look back down at her from the balcony before leaving and wondered just how old that statue was while Sebastian said a quiet prayer to himself.

I looked at it for a moment before I realized two things. I coughed. “Something's not right here. There were a few cobwebs in the other rooms in protected nooks, but none on this statue, and worse...” I wanted them to see it first and pointed at the thin tracery in red on Andraste's cloak. At first glace, it might be assumed to be bird wings for her flying to the Maker or something, but this wasn't that.

“Cultists?” Anders sounded as doubtful as I felt.

“Anders, I had thought that your Warden had killed the cult during the Blight. I really can't see how they could confuse dragons and your prophet.” Merrill seemed like she was about to laugh.

“Blasphemy within the Chantry! She went to the Maker's side. She would not return as a monster.” Sebastian looked like he wanted to knock down the offending statue but wasn't sure if he should touch it.

Choking a laugh, Anders added, “We actually agree on something. Hawke, there must still be some cultists here in Haven. Attryne had told us that she knew of no survivors when they came through, but that they saw few out in Haven. There must have been survivors, now hiding among the Chantry and Templars.”

Sebastian added after a double-take, “The Templars must be informed so they can be rooted out.”

“At last, a duty the Templars should be doing,” Anders grinned.

“Gentlemen, you're missing that we don't know how long they've been here nor how long they might have been encouraging dragons to live here.” That was far more dangerous than the average cultist we'd fought. “Come on, Sebastian. We can tip this over and hope it breaks.” We'd have to speak to the Knight-Captain on the side when we left. I couldn't think of any way to separate cultists from most in the Chantry, and I wasn't convinced there was that much difference. Both could pretend to be friendly.

We rocked the statue of the cultists' Andraste until it finally fell over onto its face. The cloak with the more leathery feathers was more visible. An arm and some other bits broke off before a more serious break at the waist, it looked like the statue had been made in two pieces.

Once we were done, I called up to Anders and Merrill where they were on the balcony. “We're missing Varric or Isabela, they'd think of something extra rude right now. ”

That got me some chuckles and giggles. Then we returned to the door that went further inward into another small chamber, bare of any objects but for a few stone benches. The major decoration was painting after painting, covering the stone walls, all showing old, nightmarish scenes of Tevinter slavery and abuses. From what Fenris had said, it looked like little had changed despite the existence of the Black Divine.

Anders moved close and took my arm. I put mine around him. I didn't want mages to be the abusers either.

Sebastian glared at all of us again. “This is what free mages become when they have the power to enforce their whims on the rest of us.”

Tensing at the provocation, Anders demanded, “Non-mages abuse power too. How are Magisters different than how the elves, those not shoved in the Circle, are treated in the Alienages of most cities? So-called good Chantry nobles can abuse them in almost any way, even sell them into slavery during the Blight?”

Speaking for a change, Merrill wondered, “Have you spent much time in the Ehlvan neighborhoods, Sebastian? They cannot own their homes like humans do. They cannot become guild masters or nobles. They cannot even serve in the guard. All because their ancestors did not worship as you. When will the humans stop punishing them?”

I gripped Anders' hand. Merrill's argument was more one that might work on the prince.

“No, they should not be harmed like that. When have I ever approved of that? This is about how mages still abuse their power in Tevinter.” Sebastian rallied. “There will be nothing to prevent that without the Chantry and Templars.”

“This isn't Tevinter. We all agree what Tevinter sucks.” I tried to stay calm; attacking him physically would negate any oath he gave.

“Power corrupts! Magisters have no limits on their abuse of power, but for the Chantry! How many have they killed with their blood magic to increase their power? Hawke, didn't you find evidence that the streets of Kirkwall once flowed with the blood of their victims. Countless victims, like he left behind?”

Gripping my arm painfully, Anders returned, “When have I ever approved of Tevinter's abuses? We'd probably be safer there. Hawke would be praised for defeating the Qunari, and I... for what happened in Kirkwall and for being a mage. Note we went in the opposite direction.”

Sebastian sighed. “Yes, I had not expected that, and some of my agents went to Minrathous.”

“I want something better than Tevinter, someplace where mages are simply taught and expected to be responsible citizens. Some place where we can work and heal others or build soaring temples even, we should be able to build a home, marry, and have a family...” Anders caressed me briefly as he spoke.

With disapproval, Merrill added, “These are all the same things my People cannot have either, we find only ruins of times when we did not have to wander to keep what freedoms we have.”

“The Alienages are horrible,” Sebastian admitted reluctantly.

“Have you ever done anything to help if they are so terrible?” Merrill asked.

He flushed and didn't say anything.

“Enough,” I warned them. “Paws is smelling it more strongly now.”

They quieted and we moved forward, spaced apart slightly. There wasn't even a door this time, just another shrine to Andraste, with dozens or even hundreds of candles and tiny offerings, some coated in dust.

Two archways went right and left here and I chose the right one only to discover that these rooms continued the instructional scenes painted all over the walls. Once we went through the door the images in the first room had been gashed and damaged to the point where the walls had crumbled. I looked around to see if there had been enough structural damage to make this way dangerous.

Not quite, but Sebastian's gasp alerted me that I missed something. He was looking closely at the undamaged sections of the paintings. When I looked I saw it was a representation of the early days of the Chantry, with battles and martyrs. Hacking at this would not have been allowed. I slipped to the next room while the erstwhile Brother tried to identify the people who had once been honored. The next room was about the invitation to build in Orlais and the first Divine.

I had little fascination with the material, but the damage to the second room was worse, to the point of some rubble. Anders would approve of the damage and Sebastian would argue. When I returned to the others I said, “It's worse in the next room. They seemed to have been trying for structural damage.”

The other hallway turned as it told the story of Andraste's life. This area was clean and nearly dust-free. Moving forward, the hall way turned on itself several times before joining with the other hall again.

The smell of dragon was getting stronger and I forced myself to take a sip of water.

We passed though some kind of monument hall with identical statues in alcoves, and beyond a stone door was another room with only the shattered wooden fragments of furniture of some kind. There was no door into a more roughly hewn passageway, and the smell of dragon drifted towards us even more strongly.

“That, Sebastian, is what dragons smell like. If we... no, when we find them, you stay with Merrill and Anders. Their defensive magics will help you too, and you can watch for other threats to the three of you.” I missed Varric, at this point in the Dalish caves, he could be counted on to say something funny.

He looked down a little at me, and asked, “What about you, Hawke?”

Pulling my blades out, I grinned without feeling funny. “I do what I usually do now, keep their attention on me long enough for spells and arrows to kill them. I just have to move fast enough to not get hit too much. That's why I got the pretty Champion armor, isn't it?”

The contrast between my mostly black armor and his white armor might have been profound, but I wouldn't think about it.

Once we left that smaller room and the passage got rougher. The finished appearance of hallway and chamber disappeared. It wasn't ruined, it looked like it had never been there.

I wondered if the former Brother knew, and asked, “I can't remember any Chantry teaching on stone tunnel meaning, that they wouldn't finish and decorate the path to the Ashes. Do you?”

“Perhaps it might symbolize their coming out of slavery...” He sounded doubtful as the not very wide tunnel got narrower as it turned into what looked like a storage cave. The next tunnel and second cavern looked as unfinished. The third had a few humans beyond a pillar as well as a couple of smaller dragons.

Those we knew how to fight.

The dragons still had the softer hide and no experience with things that fought back. The enemy had only slightly more. The best thing was that they didn't have fire yet.

We took the wider passage in a hurry as I thought that would lead outside. What we found was a hatchery with eggs not far from a banked fire.

Merrill brightened up. “They are so beautiful I wish I could keep one, it would be ever so much more useful than a kitten or a dog. I could travel like Asha'bellanar with a friend like that.”

I think the rest of us were alarmed the same way at her trying to raise a dragon. “I don't think that's a good idea. She changed form instead, and if she couldn't domesticate one...”

“That is true, but it is a shame.” Merrill considered the damaged pens. “Anders, didn't the Wardens fly with griffins?”

His face going neutral as it usually did when the Wardens were mentioned, Anders said carefully. “I'm sure it took them many people and years for a project like that. And they died out between Blights. Weisshaupt might know more, but they don't share well.”

“So we must show them mercy, for this is not where they should live.” Sebastian was solemn.

It was ugly work, butchery only, but we destroyed the shells quickly. Let the cultists have to track down another source of eggs. These were now broken masses of goo and partly formed bodies.

The other passageway wasn't that wide, larger dragons could not get through. Eggs, people, livestock, and very small dragons only. The passage split, and we went straight ahead, where the smell was stronger, though Sebastian knelt long enough while examining the passages to say that both were in frequent use.

I ordered Paws to guard the cavern entrance as soon as we approached it. He wouldn't even be a bite, as much as he wanted to come. More importantly, he was slowing, with the inevitability of even the slow mabari aging. Anders also put Mew into the basket on Paws, they didn't have any magical protection from fire that our armor had.

This was a larger cave, with a large exit to a ledge outside and another dim tunnel. These dragons were larger, too big to go to that hatchery we'd just razed.

The cultist was in robes, Chantry robes. And I realized that she was that Sister Marjorie we'd met yesterday. She'd seemed normal to me at the time, but Sebastian got angry now.

“Foul traitor to Andraste and her Chant! You pervert her words and devotion to the Maker.” He seemed nearly as angry as he'd been in Kirkwall. His armor seemed very white in the dim light of the cavern.

Petting the large foreleg of the dragon next to her, the woman wasn't that calm either. “You seem to think She would abandon Thedas, become remote and forget her people as the Maker has. She was purified by the flame as the Chant says, she is given back of the flame too. Beloved, she is given a form that cannot be afraid of flame nor sword when she claims her power, we must find her and welcome her back.”

Sebastian sputtered on hearing this and started quoting something about Andraste's role as wife and beloved singer, but I was watching the dragons.

I was never quite sure if dragons, real dragons unlike that Flemeth we met, were intelligent at all or just cunning in the way of beasts. They were tough. These lifted their heads and seemed to look at us, still damp from breaking up the eggs.

Then one surged forward to attack, interrupting the shouted argument to snap at me where I stood in front of the mages. That snapped us into action, and I rolled aside shouting Vael's name.

He pulled up his bow, even as I heard spells from both Anders and Merrill. We hadn't moved far enough into the room that we could be surrounded, so only two of the three dragons could attack the mages at all, but I was out in the middle as was Sebastian this time.

The cultist was as much a fighter as most in the Chantry, but like that bitch Patrice she encouraged the dragons. I didn't think that they listened, but I was a little busy.

These dragons were still small enough that their long necks were flexible and fast. With all three trying to bite me, I could only thank the Maker they didn't seem to have flame yet.

Slowly, even with my jumping around like a grasshopper, they died. The largest, slowed by a heavy crust of ice from one of Anders' spells, I nearly decapitated with the longer Qun blade. The stump gushed blood as it collapsed.

I looked around in the new silence and took my first deep breath since we entered the cave. I was bloody, despite Anders' healing by then. I called Paws in when he barked and scratched his ears.

Wondering what happened to the cultist, I saw her body, with an arrow embedded deep in her skull, in a eerily similar way to how Patrice had died. I couldn't remember if Sebastian had been there that night for the parts in Lowtown, but if he hadn't, then he would have been in the Chantry and might have witnessed it from the higher balconies.

Anders came over to heal me, saying, “Do you think that's it? She could have been encouraging the entrance to be shut down as one of the good Sisters.”

Bloody for a change, Sebastian said, “I doubt it. The safety would have been the decision of the Knight-Captain and he would have been trained at a full Chantry, not here as they might have. The Templars are few here, and there were more Sisters and Brothers here to hide among.”

Tensing a moment, Anders busied himself with wiping the blood off me before giving me a kiss.

Looking in his clear brown eyes that showed some strain, I hugged him tight for a moment. “These seem a little decent for Templars, so far,” I whispered. “He has to have guessed that Merrill and probably you were mages, but didn't say anything.”

“I know that, Love. But I must fight about the rule of abuse, not the exception. That doesn't mean staying calm has been simple.”

A cough from Merrill, of all people, told us it was time to move. I checked around the room, and there wasn't much here, and nothing of any value beyond a few trinkets on Marjorie. Leaving her body here with her pets should be convincing to the Templar.

I was beginning to think that speaking to him could not wait until we finished with the Ashes.

A darker tunnel was opposite the ledge, and we carefully moved into it. In the next chamber were some very small dragons in large pens, feeding. Another pen had some frightened mountain goats.

Merrill was distressed and and tried to calm them, though we simply butchered the dragonettes. I wondered if we could get them out where they wouldn't be dinner for something in an idiot cult.

We backtracked and went down the one straight passage since we left the finished sections. A finished chamber looked like it had recently been a shrine, but had been remade into a small bunk room. No one was present, and there were a few small statues along the lines of Andraste being a dragon, a woman with dragon features or the other way around. It looked too like the legends of the dragon gods once worshiped in Tevinter.

I quickly went through chests and a single wardrobe, looking for anything valuable. There were a few items, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to sell them intact to possible cultists or just sell the expensive materials. I hurried, because the more open iconography made me leery and I wanted to leave.

The hallway became a rougher tunnel again, and I could see natural light coming from another cavern ahead.

Sebastian was still fuming, and muttered a bit too loudly. “Heretics and apostates within the Chantry. I'm surprised you aren't joining in to overthrow the Chantry, abomination.”

“Oh, yes. All mages secretly want to be eaten. I so look forward to being chomped into two pieces with all my guts spilling out. Being stabbed in the heart with a sword isn't exciting enough.” Anders laid the sarcasm very thick. “Becoming a slave before that honor makes it all better, now doesn't it?”

I wasn't that surprised when Merrill rubbed her forehead, I was getting a headache too. Looking around, this chamber was relatively bare, having several pens with a small herd of goats. A broad passage went outside and had a few remaining statues inset into the arch of the exit.

“You just want your 'freedom' from any kind of Rule and control. No one is free of some limitations, and mages have proven over and over in Tevinter and beyond, that they cannot be trusted without controls.” Vael's voice was rising.

Merrill pointed back at the passage we'd come through, and curved little horns with her fingers over her forehead. I waved her to go, Anders and Sebastian could probably argue for hours and I needed to make sure it stayed at arguing.

“The Chantry did not stop at laws and mere safety, they keep grinding down on mages and even their families and then act surprised when anyone tells them Enough!” Anders eyes narrowed. “Andraste worked to free other slaves, those that were not valued and abused, people that couldn't marry or own a home or even their own bodies and future. How is that much different than what is done to mages? Have you even read of the Chantry historian's book supposing that Andraste was a mage?”

“Blasphemy!” Vael waved it aside. “Magic should serve man, never rule...”

“I don't see the conflict there. I don't want to rule man! I just wanted to heal people and travel freely. What good is it to chain me up? Karl didn't even want that much, he was just a scholar and teacher and those bastards destroyed him for nothing!” By the end of this, Anders was just slightly beginning to glow.

I stepped over and put an arm around him. It took a minute, but he relaxed and put one around me.

Sebastian still glared at Anders.

“I think we can agree that these cultists are idiots and evil to raise dragons close to other people. That's what we're here for right now.” I rubbed my now throbbing headache, when it went away.

“Sorry, Hawke,” Anders said sheepishly.

Vael looked shamefaced, but didn't say anything.

“With the dragons dead, I think we need to quietly bring Ser Ormonde out here, without those like Sister Marjorie knowing...” I didn't want to be involved in internal Chantry politics. How did that happen?

Anders added, “The largest dragon the warden fought here was outdoors.”

Of course.

Notes:

A/N: The chapter title was adapted from a quote by Rousseau.

Chapter 31: Do Not Leave the Nearby Dragon Out of Your Calculations

Summary:

Defeating dragon-worshipping cultists doesn't mean the way is safe to the Shrine of the Sacred Ashes. Someone wishes to warn the Templars before moving out onto the open mountaintop. Beyond lies the Gauntlet and the tests within it...

-- Haven, Cultist's Hatchery

Anders:

Hours had passed while we explored the closed off sections and no dragon cultists remained, unless you wanted to count the mountain goats. We were divided on whether we would go out onto the mountainside and cross to the Gauntlet, if we would return inside and warn the Templars. Vael, and to my surprise, Hawke, wanted to go back.

See? She is like all the others to support the Templars against us! We can destroy them and travel to the nearest Circle to aide them!

No! Hawke has not turned against us.

He was getting harder to restrain again and I was afraid at how close he was to seizing control lately. The lyrium's calming didn't last long enough this last time.

I could not like the unhappiness on her face. “Why, Hawke? Why now, when... I don't know how long I can...” I could not finish the sentence.

Sebastian would be happy to kill me, but Aldera would not allow that until it was too late. Justice had always seen her as a threat to our plans; with her gone, he could have as much destruction as he wanted.

“This won't take that long, Anders. I just want to warn them so they cannot be ambushed by cultists. I want us rested before we might gave to fight a larger dragon, so the delay won't hurt.” She was looking at me with worry.

Some rumbling came from within me, but I did not want to force her to always do my wishes or I'd be no better than Vael thought.

Gritting my teeth I told them, “Fine, let us finish this quickly.”

The walk back to the main part of the pilgrim hostel took maybe half an hour now that the way was clear.

Once we were back at the doors that had been locked, Hawke gave a ghost of a laugh, “Too bad I can't just change the locks, that'd keep any remaining cultists in and out. They must have a copy of this key.”

“You can only warn him, Hawke. He must decide his own future as he does every day.” Merrill's voice sounded much like after Sundermount when Marethari died.

“This is not a matter of choosing to be faithful,” Sebastian objected. “This is a matter of hidden dangers, like a poisonous snake in your bedding. These cultists are only betrayers of their fellows! They break the trust of their bothers and sisters every day.”

I controlled a wince, even if he wasn't yelling at me this time.

With almost a glare, Hawke stared at us, her eyes unblinking. “He's been decent to us, and I simply return that when I can.” She turned to unlock the door before fading out of sight. “Stay here, I won't be long.”

I wasn't happy that she was going among Chantry and cultists, even if Sebastian was fuming a little too.

It wasn't long when I could hear the long familiar sounds of an approaching Templar who was trying to be quiet.

Once the door was locked again behind him, he seemed surprised at the evidence of the dragons and hatchery on our armor. “What did you find? What required that only I know about this? There were dragons, correct?”

Sebastian clapped his shoulder and said with sorrow. “The dragons were brought here by dragon cultists...”

“Under your watch. Or at least they are being bred and fed by them,” I had little patience for breaking it to him as gently as Vael wanted.

“Some members of the Chantry here are secret cultists and a danger to you. We fought some of the cultists and their pets, but we can't figure out how many remain hidden.” Hawke took my hand as she spoke.

I concentrated on the grip of her hand.

“How would you know we have traitors?” Ormonde asked.

“We can show you, Ser,” Vael said with a little anger.

The trip into the caverns to the first cultists and their smaller dragons dismayed him, but when he saw Sister Marjorie, still wearing her Chantry robes, he looked shocked.

Hawke added to this evidence. “There is a bunk room with different robes too, maybe for ceremonies, even if she didn't change into them.”

“I think that she did not believe that we could have fought dragons before, or even that many,” Merrill said with a small smile. “But we have fought one much larger, once.”

The Templar looked ill and then angry on seeing the Sister's corpse. “I wasn't sure what to do about your visit. With the current unrest caused by some mad mages in the Marches, I wanted to summon help for the dragons. Now I must, even if for a different reason. They will take a week at best to relieve us and you would be long gone if you mean ill. I will summon them now for this, and pray they have troops they can send, or better yet, a Seeker to determine who has been tainted by this blasphemy.”

He looked directly at Merrill and I. “You have done a great service, and you are welcome to stay here; it is a place of peace for pilgrims, but if they send a Seeker, I will have no authority over them.”

Hawke sent a small smile at me after his words.

Giving a blessing, Sebastian said, “Maker, bless this servant's search for Your truth...”

I didn't pay attention after that, as I had heard too many years of that that I could have written out the words for him. He wasn't very original. Suddenly, Hawke's idea for disguise seemed almost possible. I knew the kinds of platitudes and enough bits of the Canticles to sound like Vael. I could avoid saying the things I hated, but I could probably dribble blessings better than this.

Hawke smiled at my rolling my eyes. I'd have to tell her later when I was sure we were alone.

When Vael was done, Hawke said quickly, “We will continue on, there might be more cultists or dragons. I thought you should know before we do.”

Ser Ormonde rubbed his chin. “Yes, if you return from the Gauntlet publicly, things will become more lively, ripe for trouble or attacks. Over half of our Sisters grew up here, only a few were trained at larger Chantries in Denerim or Amaranthine like I was.”

At the mention of Amaranthine, I looked more closely at him. He didn't look familiar, but I had gotten careless gradually while I was with the Warden. Templars were no threat to my goals then, of enjoying my freedom and charming my way into others' beds.

You have a responsibility to your fellow mages.

You told me that too many times at the Vigil. I can't forget it now.

Strike a blow against your oppressors! See to it that they can harm no one else!

This one has no mages here to harm. We should find the oppressors to help the most mages.

I felt only rumbling after that while Hawke gathered us to return to the stockyard. She and Merrill even checked the food and water for the goats before we went outside.

There were the remains of a fine roadway, leading steeply down the mountainside. Once, some kind of earthquake or great magic shook the land that made even the remains of arches and pillars lean like this around us. The roadway just ended, like it was cut off with a knife and then eroded, slightly above a shallow bowl of dirt between ridges of stone.

Across on the other side of this open area was a building that looked like a very old Chantry carved out of the rock with a path between pillars at the entrance. Not like the dragon worshiping cult made it, it was just old.

I almost expected to see a Sister or even one of the antique robed Divines from the Circle lesson books, marching in a procession to visit the relic, like I heard they did for finger-bones or moldering robes every year.

But no, this was just a small flat valley between our group and the old shrine. We were still high enough on the slope that we could duck back inside. Dirt and scree had been kept clear of growth by the passage of people and dragons so much that there were no winter-dead plants or even blown leaves. But something seemed so familiar...

We walked down the steep tiled path, reaching the slight shelter of the pillars near the bottom.

Hawke stirred, and started to dig in her pouches. “I almost forgot. Do you have poison, Sebastian? We can use the spider venom this time, since it's not that Varterral. Flame grenades won't help as far as I could ever tell.”

They applied the poison, and I regretted I never learned how cold grenades had been made at the Vigil, since the opposite element seemed to help against fire users.

After working with the damned drake-stone for so many hours, I knew the scent reaching me, even if it was faint; there was still a dragon left.

Hawke looked wary and back at her mabari. “Paws, guard Merril.”

This bowl of dirt and platform looked so familiar, even if I wasn't looking down on it this time. It was different than the Bone Pit in almost every way, but I knew the dragon would land in the dirt bowl to block the shrine.

“What do you see, Warden?” Hawke was on edge, as she rarely ever had called me that.

I knew I didn't want her to be standing out in the middle for the dragon to simply land on. “I hadn't expected the campfire sketch done in the dirt with sticks to match this. They stayed out of the bowl... I mean their warriors didn't stay back.”

It almost felt like I stuttered the last, as Hawke was the closest of us here, who fought like that. The Warden had the Templar.

“But we don't have any like that with us. We will have to cross the valley at some time, won't we?” Merrill wondered.

“Let's just get this over with,” Hawke muttered, moving forward into the bowl. “If the Maker smiles, we already killed the dragons I smell.”

--- x ---

Hawke:

We stepped carefully down the still colorful tile on the slope, with my waving them back when I got to the bottom. I had to hope my armor had enough enchantments. High dragons were somehow scarier than spider constructs, no matter how tough those were.

“Do I hear something?” Sebastian asked us doubtfully.

I hadn't heard it, but the hood of my armor reduced my hearing by the slightest bit. That was why I preferred to have it down when I didn't need the protection. I never understood why Vael never wore anything.

“Yes,” Anders said absently while scanning the limited horizon. Then, he pointed down along the valley where a dry stream bed ran along one side. “That way.”

I stepped forward, even if my palms were trying to sweat inside my fancy gloves. Looking in the right direction, I saw what looked like some odd bird at the distance. I wanted to go for cover, but then it would target Anders and Merrill. Paws barked, edging forward.

“Paws! Guard!” I ordered him back, praying he'd obey. He had no armor or protection, and I bitterly regretted that I hadn't made that a priority when times were quiet.

In my moment of distraction, the bird became something more dangerous, circling toward me. The pillars, even leaning, provided the others a little cover. I watched its approach, hoping to spot the beginnings of a dive enough to avoid it. Its roars now carried clearly, and I gripped a grenade in one hand; smoke cover was my friend. It was so big, even a grenade couldn't hide its position, but it could not see me as easily.

Seconds passed so slowly as I waited for it to move in, seconds where spell chants and a prayer sounded far away.

It began a dive and I leapt further from the others. Maker, it dropped so fast I had no time to think, and I threw the grenade as soon as the ground shook from its landing. The roar filled my mind.

Or maybe it was my screaming at her.

I couldn't reach high enough to hit anything vital, not yet. When she was slower or injured I could try for a death blow on her spine or head.

Dashing inward to slash at her with my daggers, I tried to find a softer place on her belly, but her armor was tough, even for my blades. I then concentrated on drawing blood, and hoped the poison would hurt her. The joints of the legs were also tempting. They were spined and armored, but like my armor, it had to be thinner to allow flexibility and had to be a weak point.

I wished Aveline was here.

I could feel the edges of spells that were cast, but didn't pay much attention. Arrows appeared in the dragon's hide, and I paid even less. My second smoke grenade was blown aside by a flap of her wings and a small burst of fire engulfed me for a moment.

Screaming as I tried to roll away from her claws and her maw, I felt some healing but couldn't hear anything over the dragon's roar. My next attack wasn't the most noble or deadly, but I severed one of her claws.

This roar made my head ring and the faintest of shouts reminded me to keep moving.

The dragon launched herself up and away from me to a cave ledge, maybe the one where we fought Marjorie. She barely fit in the arch, but then she was out of range of every attack but maybe bow.

She roared again and I wasn't happy to hear others in reply. I frantically added more poison and felt some healing. Tossing a smile at Anders, I scanned the sky and saw more birds coming this way from different directions.

What bothered me was that I heard deeper roars that echoed from a greater distance.

The new dragons were fresh, but less dangerous than the larger one that was resting, as we could not.

Paws' whine and bark made me notice that she wasn't on the ledge anymore. I couldn't look for her in the sky while the last of the younger ones was still trying to kill me, but when it was weaving and about to fall, a mountain fell on me.

Her roar gave me the slightest of warnings, or I got lucky as I was caught under the joints of a couple of her claws. My armor held, enough that I could still breathe a little, but I couldn't move, Then I was dragged across the ground and rocks and I could feel the decorations that were merged with the armor catch on embedded rock. Would the shoulder spikes tear off, or would my arm, I wondered as I was ground into the mountain.

She stopped moving and roaring; everything got cold but for the claws holding me down. I was feeling dizzy from pressure and lack of air, when she lurched towards the raised area where the others were.

That was not the plan! All I could do was roll over and try to get enough air in.

The dragonette had died while I was pinned and the greater dragon was breathing fire at the others. I lurched after her, their defenses didn't all last long and I had to get her attention again.

Her tail was swaying slightly as she moved away from me and attacked; she must have thought I was dead.

I eyed the tail and brought my enchanted blades down, severing a good length raggedly off. A sword would have been a cleaner cut, but I really didn't care.

The bleeding, still-long stump got her attention on me again, but I didn't even have the time to peek at the others as I tried to move back. I had trouble breathing despite feeling a bit of healing while I was pinned.

She didn't seem much slower and I watched her carefully. I remembered how an earlier bite nearly cut Fenris in half another time. I didn't think my armor was up to my being shaken like a rag doll. I managed to dodge one bite that was close enough to drip burning saliva too close to my skin.

I slashed and stabbed at her, hoping to hit a tendon or artery, and I got clawed and near misses of flame. Tumbled aside when she launched up again, this time the other, deeper roars were too close. Two more were circling in the air.

These were big, too, even if not as big as her, and I frantically nearly inhaled a healing potion and was just pouring more poison as the first dove.

But he didn't land by me, he swept his wings and knocked Anders and Sebastian off their feet. Merrill was gripped by her magical vines and remained upright.

I couldn't watch or do anything more as the second landed by me, drawing breath for fire. I ran away and toward his back, pulling a grenade. I didn't have time to choose, but just threw it.

Anything would help. Well, almost anything except fire. What exploded wasn't something to give me safe cover or stun it, it was just one that tarred him. My grenade wasn't big enough to slow the whole dragon, but it did explode near his head. The thick stuff slowed him only a little, but having crap on his face really confused him.

That gave me time to back away and pull smoke grenades, enough that I'd be very hard to target as long as I kept moving. When his still-tarry head finally found me in the thick smoke, I stabbed the larger blade of my Bassrath-Kata into its eye.

The dragon wasn't dead, but his roar made my head ring as I rolled away. One eyed, he couldn't target me as well, and soon I noticed spells and arrows hitting him as well until he fell.

The bodies of several dragons of differing sizes now cluttered the valley. Some of the smaller ones had been swept a little to the sides of the bowl by the larger ones. I didn't really want to have to fight among them. They might provide a bit of cover, but they would also limit where I could move and might still trip me.

Now that it was again just our group in the bowl, the biggest dragon seemed almost reluctant to come down to us. I'd moved back, so we could talk, and I saw that one of the arches behind us was now fallen.

“We can't leave this here,” I panted, holding my still sore ribs.

Anders drank a potion and looked better, and Merrill was putting a vial away. Paws looked a little singed, but okay.

Sebastian drank a potion too and asked reluctantly, “Do you have more poison, Hawke?”

This wasn't the time to laugh, but he had not approved of any of my darker skills. I gave him some and I applied more to my blades too, trying to keep watching the dragon.

“How can we convince her to come back down? She could just fly away for a few days or weeks,” I asked after I was done preparing.

“We could bring down some of the goats. She's used to being fed by those idiots,” Anders offered.

Merrill didn't look happy, but Sebastian suggested, “Whatever way those heretics managed to train a dragon while it was young, they would not want strangers reaching the Ashes. A predator may not feed if it is not hungry, but a challenge to its territory will always be acted on.”

Grinning, Anders joked, “I don't suppose the goats are trained to cross over to the shrine on their own?”

“No, they are quite stubborn and if afraid will not be easily herded.” Merrill watched the dragon and looked up the steep sloping path again.

Well, that narrowed our options. I didn't want her to have time to recover. “I'll move toward the shrine. If that won't lure it, we can go back inside to the hatchery and attack from there.”

I dashed over to give an unhappy mage a quick kiss, whispering, “Love you, always.” Then I loped ahead of them as I heard the chanting begin again.

About three-quarters across the dirt bowl to the shrine and into a clearer space, shouts told me she'd launched into the sky again. She didn't circle as long, and I moved slightly back towards the others. The wind from her landing would dissipate any concealing smoke, so grenades had to be after I avoided getting crushed again.

But she landed between me and the shrine, with all of us in her field of attack for her fire breath.

“Spread out!” I shouted, throwing my grenade, hoping the haze might choke the dragon along with hiding us. Running along the dragon's side, I scanned again looking for something vital to hit while it was briefly paralyzed by a spell.

Then buffet from the wings sent a strong wind that pushed me against the dragon's side and the rear claws nearly dragged me back to the ground. I heard lightning and wind but was actually sheltered slightly by the bulk above me.

Standing, I slashed at the belly, not drawing as much blood as I wanted. Another roar and the dragon twisted, trying to turn to face me, when some kind of ice storm surrounded us. I used the cover to move away from the head, but the bulk of the huge tail swept, blindly, through me, knocking me off my feet.

The tail spikes and force made it hard to breathe again as I struggled to my feet. I had to get further from the tail.

The storm thinned as it breathed fire above us, trying to stop the magical storm. That cleared my own vision enough that I saw its foreleg at a different angle as it braced to attack the sky where lightning crackled and a near blizzard fell. I stabbed into the center of its joint with my longer dagger, in the back where armor had to be thinner, and put all my strength into moving it side to side.

Another roar, and the leg actually slid and the weight of that and maybe even its body started pressing on me. With a snap, the last of the joint gave way and the sky blackened suddenly.

Under dragon: BAD.

Notes:

The chapter title, maybe a little too long for posting, was inspired by a quote from Tolkein.

Chapter 32: Where Will Defies Fear and Duty Scorns Compromise With Death

Summary:

At last Hawke and the others reach the Gauntlet, where the dangers are not that of a dragon falling on Hawke...

“Where will defies fear and duty scorns compromise with death...”

-- Haven, Mountaintop bowl

Anders:

Hawke cut into the dragon's knee as I poured down my spells on the High Dragon. The leg really spouted blood this time, she had to have severed an artery and fire could not seal it. We had beaten it, even if it flew away, it would continue bleeding.

This dragon roared enough to make the ground shake.

The mabari took off, howling, as the leg separated. The dragon roared again and fell into almost a roll as the loss of the leg made it fall.

Hawke hadn't gotten out!

I beat at the pleased rumble within as I ran over. Merrill and Sebastian ran over too. The dragon had turned its head back towards the stump and Hawke; we could close to finish the kill on the other side.

That didn't matter to me, I had to get closer, close enough to make sure she lived.

To try to keep her alive.

Getting to the Ashes was useless if Hawke didn't live.

The foot and Hawke weren't visible, but I could feel a thread of life under the thrashing dragon. Losing one leg wasn't enough for it to die right away.

I dropped to my knees beside a frantic dog, and tried pushing healing energy to her and the thread strengthened. Now she needed air, she only had so very few minutes before she strangled.

The thrashing changed and I looked up enough to see several arrows in the dragon's eyes.

Merrill arrived, and asked breathlessly, “Where is she?”

I pointed, even as I fed more healing to Dera. I didn't want her to think she was dying alone.

Alone, like Karl had been.

Hissing a curse, Merrill could see that Paws was trying to dig to Hawke. “Big Paws... move aside.”

The mabari ignored her, and suddenly a larger chunk almost blew out from under the dragon. The mabari yipped as he flew back, and another load of dust and stones blew out, forcing him to stay back and howl.

This spell I knew the basics of, but Merrill was much better with earth magics and I had to concentrate on Hawke.

The dragon's bulk fell partly into the hole, but stopped and I could see the channel Paws had started digging. I gave Merrill the vial that I pulled for myself, and finally saw Hawke's life strengthen without my magic.

“She got some air!” I announced, finally noticing that Vael seemed to be praying.

I wasn't quite in the mood to mock him about it.

A few more minutes and I could see part of Hawke's armor, the decoration that the Kirkwall armorers thought such a clever play on her name. “Hawke!” I called, hoping she was conscious.

Whatever she responded with was still muffled, but I could stop the healing and help move dirt. More digging and shoving against the dragon, and we finally pulled her out.

Dust ground into her, I embraced her as soon as she was out, and whispered, “Don't do that again to me. You're supposed to get that sunny cottage in a remote village after I go to the Deep Roads.”

Hawke just shook her head and kept taking deep breaths, coughing out dust every few breaths. I made her drink and spit as well until it looked cleaner. Then I examined her more carefully while her mabari bumped into her for some attention, and she seemed healthy enough.

She looked around after a moment and found a dagger before sheathing it. Her other was missing, small price for killing a dragon but she looked upset.

“Love, we can get you another, a dozen.” I thought the dragon would probably rot here, unless that Ormonde had enough people experienced in butchery.

Paws bumped Hawke with his front end covered in dust even more; he had the hilt of her missing dagger in his teeth, with the gold of the cross-hilt being drooled on as I watched.

That got him a hug before she cleaned and sheathed it as well. What was it about Qunari weapons?

“Anders? Could you heal...?” Merrill asked quietly.

My face got warm as I healed everyone else of their injuries, even some small ones for Paws. Looking around, I didn't see Mew's basket on the mabari and worried.

“Your kitten's basket strap was broken while we fought those dragon young,” Merrill said sadly.

Before I could quite panic or mourn, she added, “I put him in a niche formed when the pillar fell. I think he should be fine.”

I ran back to where the pillar had fallen and heard its yowling. Letting it out gained me some fresh scratching and hissing, but soon he settled and I set him on my shoulders. One claw managed to get through my feathers as he clung, but he purred briefly as he settled at the back of my neck.

“There is something very wrong about fighting dragons with a kitten on you,” Sebastian said sourly when I got back to them.

Mew's fur rubbed against me as he purred.

A distraction from our cause! We dawdle here while mages die.

I told Sebastian, “The dragon, a High Dragon mind you, is dead. There won't be two close together, so kitty stays.” Turning to Hawke, I had to smile with my relief that Sir Mew was fine. “Not that he is the first to complain to me about that. You wouldn't believe how many times Nathaniel and Justice would complain in the Deep Roads...”

I still do not like the ownership or slavery over a living being.

I'm more his slave than he is mine, unless he's been making my bed and washing the linens when I wasn't looking...

Hawke looked thoughtful. “Tell us later when we camp. Let's go.”

When we started across what was left of the clear space to the entrance, I felt almost chipper. “It really is too bad we can't take some of this hide with us, I know of an armorer who could make the best rogue armor that looked very sharp...”

“Enough, abomination. You should be praying before you face judgment.” Sebastian sounded ever irritated.

“I'm not allowed to be happy that we defeated those idiots and their dragons, even for a little bit?” I made sure to overdo my pout, as I wanted to make sure that he got it.

That got me stifled laughter from the ladies along with a disgusted noise from him.

Then we reached the entrance, carved into solid rock with pillars leading to the arching door. It didn't look as weather-worn as I expected. It certainly had been repaired since the Warden came through. There was a door, without a lock, what would be the point? An entry let us in to a stairway up, leading us into the mountain. The air grew slightly warmer than it had been outside, but I saw no fireplaces or signs of such humble things as a campfire. There were a few banners brought here recently, which had not had the time to rot away, still I doubted much had changed in ages.

I could almost feel power in the mountain, and rumblings inside me grew silent. The silence around us was almost endless, even with the small noises that the mabari and Mew made.

We didn't have much choice about where to go, there was only forward.

At the top of the stairs there was a landing that turned and opened up into a small hall, and standing there was a knight whose armor was shining as if he was standing in bright sunlight while in a dim chamber. His armor was of a different style than I had seen before.

I wasn't even sure if his boots were touching the floor. I wondered if he was a spirit, somehow, but I could no longer tell.

As we grew closer with Hawke in the lead, he moved. He gazed at our group and said, “I bid you welcome, pilgrims.”

“Who are you?” Hawke asked carefully.

“I am the Guardian, here to protect the Sacred Ashes.” His voice was flat, but echoed with a whispering. “Only the worthy will be allowed to pay their respects to the Ashes of Andraste.”

Hawke's face fell and she looked down at her sheathed daggers. “And if we're not?” Her voice was very flat and wracked by some pain.

Like some kind of doom he replied, “Then you will not see the Ashes.”

Hawke looked at me, fear plain in her eyes. I didn't know what to say, as I doubted any worthiness on my part, but Dera was a Champion.

The Guardian added after this brief silence, “You shall see the Ashes, if you came to honor Andraste. If your heart is true, there is nothing to fear.”

Her heart was so very true, but I doubted my opinion meant anything on that.

Hawke collected herself and said, “Then how can we prove we're worthy?”

“You must pass four tests of faith on the path to be judged worthy.”

There was an exhalation of air from Sebastian, but I didn't bother looking at him. He was going to be useless here.

The door beyond him must lead to the tests, but Hawke asked, “Do I have to fight you to pass?”

“No, it is not my place to decide if you are worthy. If you are judged so, you will be allowed to take a small pinch of Ashes for yourself.” The echoing, whispery quality of his voice made it seem to be coming from all directions.

“May we pass, then, Guardian?” Sebastian asked.

“Before you pass me I have a question for you.” The Guardian's voice seemed almost dispassionate.

Hawke nodded curtly.

The Guardian looked piercingly at her. “Champion of Kirkwall, you have come a long way from the accolades and glory in that city. There is much suffering in your past, your suffering and the suffering of others.”

“Yes.” Hawke almost stuttered that.

So I reached out to take her hand. The knight followed that motion with his eyes.

“Your mother was taken, tortured, murdered, and desecrated by a mage, one who escaped from the Towers and flouted their rules against dealing with spirits and forbidden magic from the Fade. Did you fail to protect her from those who would use her as a plaything?” The Guardian's eye were not focused on us and had a cloudy look.

Hawke winced and I remembered those long hours when her grief was deepest and I didn't know what I could say to comfort her.

After what that blood mage had done, I was so afraid she would turn towards the Templar cause, that she would have had reason as only mages could have done that to her mother.

I was even more afraid she would hate me. It had only been weeks since Alrik, weeks of happiness I never expected in my life.

Not expected again, but I never expected. Leandra had made a few comments about us, comparing it to her early time with Malcolm, but this permanence was so new to me after so many flirtations and meetings in hidden corners or dreary inns.

I clutched her hand now, wishing I could hold her.

Hawke finally answered after only a breath. “Yes, I failed. I have failed too often in things most important to me, that the crowds could not possibly believe and I regret them all. I thought she'd be safe in that stupid mansion, with servants to help her. But it was all for nothing, leaving me only an empty home and no family.” She laughed bitterly, “The last of the Amells, despite her efforts for us. Some victory for Hawke, the Champion.”

Seeing her in that punishing grief again, my throat hurt. My voice cracked when I squeezed her hand and spoke. “You're too hard on yourself, Love, please don't ...”

Glaring at me for a moment, she added, “It was never much of a home again, just a place to wait through the night and sleep, right?”

For all the hours and months my Manifestos had cost and gained me, I might as well have made her happier.

Vengeance got angry at that thought, but Hawke pulled her hand out of mine to hug herself, looking so alone. I didn't know what to say.

The Guardian's gaze swung to me and I was reminded of all my regrets over the years.

“And you, mage of the Anderfels, the Scourge of Kirkwall, do you regret the hundreds who died in Kirkwall to serve your cause? Is there no limit to what you would sacrifice for it?”

I'd expected the first part, and had almost been braced for it. My spirit was quiet now, but the image that crashed in my mind's eye at the latter question took my breath away.

Gritting my teeth, I shoved the image of Dera away. “I regret and grieve for many of those who died that day. I wish I could have found a way to have gotten them away...”

The Guardian's silent stare demanded the rest of my answer.

“And yes, there is a limit to what I would sacrifice!” I ended up saying without any reaction from him at my shout.

Dera put an arm around me, an anchor within my own storm. She still looked upset, but that was an encouraging, if faint smile on her lips. Hawke still looked wistful as she always did when she remembered her mother's death.

Sebastian looked doubtfully at me, but the Guardian was done.

“Keeper Who Was Not, what brings you here to the holy place of another faith? Do you regret that your obsession frightened she who was nearly your mother so much that she did what she did?”

I glanced at Sebastian, and he showed a bit of dread as Merrill was spoken to. I gave Dera a quick hug; even if no one had said we couldn't dally in some corner, we were being watched here... by the mountain.

“Curiosity and learning brought me here. I grieve that I frightened her so much. I was taking that risk, the clan needed her so much more.” Merrill sounded sad with a thread of anger.

The Guardian prodded, “Did she not see you as her replacement, daughter, and so the future heart of the clan? Would she fail herself if the heartbeat was corrupted and failed?”

Merrill looked around with loss in her eyes for a second, but then her face firmed and she did not answer.

“How can you know these things? Are you mortal or spirit?” Sebastian demanded, all with a noble's haughtiness and something else.

The knight smiled slightly at him and said, “I was one of Andraste's followers and I was chosen to guard Her Ashes. I am blessed with what I need to do this.”

Hawke looked surprised. “You knew Andraste? I mean the real woman, not what was added in legend.”

“How long have you lived?” Sebastian asked almost in horror. He had never even liked the idea of that ancient merchant hidden in Darktown who lived only because of magic.

“I am afraid I lost count long ago, Prince. The years have been very long since Her passing to the Maker's side. The cultists who wish to claim Her are unworthy and have forgotten the trust held here. They are foolish or mad to think that She might return. I will guard Her Ashes until the Tevinter empire is no more.” He saw Hawke's frustration and added, “Yes, she had a glorious voice that charmed and convinced even the hardened, that remains vivid even over the years. But her battle is not over yet.”

Hawke and I exchanged glances. He was still waiting for the empire to fall, when nothing had truly threatened it since the Qun came to Thedas. I could not want their victory any more than the Chantry's.

A movement from Sebastian, and his face was showing the same thoughtfulness as Hawke's. He stated, “Ask your question then, Guardian.”

“Prince of a country that needs no prince, avenger of those who ask it not, what have you failed that you attempted? What was your responsibility as a Brother and not Prince?”

Hesitating, Sebastian admitted, “I could not convince the Grand Cleric to leave for her own safety. I failed to protect her from her enemies.” His glare at me was almost burning.

The Guardian didn't say more, just remained silent until Sebastian began to almost fidget.

“My duties as a Brother were to spread the Chant and minister to Her believers...” His face fell even as he said it, and he added in almost a whisper, “Are to.”

"The way is open. Good luck and may you find what you seek." The Guardian stepped back and glowed with so much light that I couldn't see for a moment. When I could, the door was open and he was gone.

My embrace of Hawke was much more desperate this time, our kisses almost violent. When I pulled back, I almost thought I saw a trace of envy on Vael's face. Merrill seemed amused, as she usually was.

We went forward and entered another hall, cleaner than what the Warden had told me of this place. Inside were several figures that we could see through, all wearing clothing from the Ancient times.

These were perhaps the first undead spirits outside the Fade who weren't violent, they simply seemed to be waiting. My spirit was muted, perhaps smothered by the power here.

Hawke went to the first, a woman with withered lips of the very old, or long dead.

She spoke in a careful cadence. “Not in future nor in past, I seem so long yet end so fast. I come from a shadow realm, whispering of things yet to come. I am forgotten when out of sight, swept away by dawning light.”

Merrill clapped her hands, saying, “Riddles! Oh, it has been too long since I have heard new riddles.”

Frowning, Sebastian asked, “Spirit, can you repeat that?”

She did, but Merrill's smile said that she already had the answer too.

“You are dreams,” I said.

A moment after I answered, and the spirit gave her name as Brona, and told of her great grief at losing her daughter Andraste. She was an embodiment of grief and loss.

I looked at Hawke, unsure of what to make of her taking that name as we traveled. She looked worried too, and I could not like this coincidence.

“We have seven more,” she said, looking around the chamber. “I wonder what happens if we guess wrong.”

“Can we ask the one of my people next?” Merrill asked eagerly.

The elf was the next in line, so I shrugged. Hawke stepped over to the spirit and stood there until he turned his face towards hers.

“Money cannot buy one, but hearts make their own. I'm not visitor or intruder, without one I'm pushed out to wander. Of what do I speak?” His lack of hair was almost distracting.

Merrill sighed and said quietly, “I know this very well, it is a homeland.”

The spirit nodded, and revealed that he had been Shartan, who rallied the elven slaves to Andraste. I wasn't sure if his betrayal was in that war or by the later Divine.

But Merrill told him, “We still do not have that, elder, after many ages. Promises are so easily forgotten when the need is past...”

He did not respond, so I wondered if these spirits were truly here or not.

Sebastian looked like he wanted to respond, but managed to restrain himself. Hawke and Merrill were quiet.

I wasn't feeling that nice. “Isn't that breaking Andraste's promise, to not only take that land away, but deny his deeds? He fought for Her cause and died when She did. Now he is a condemned and erased despite anything he had done.”

Sebastian fumed, but didn't say anything. The Orlesian and Chantry crushing of the Dales was centuries after Andraste's time. That was very clear even in their records.

Ignoring us, Hawke marched to the next figure, a warrior who looked worn and his armor simpler and more barbaric. I hurried after her.

The spirit spoke as soon as she got close. “A poison of the soul, a passion's cruel counterpart; From love she grows, till love lies slain in the dust. Of what do I speak?"

This wasn't very hard either, but Hawke sagged even as she gave the answer.

The spirit revealed that he was Maferath, named and reviled by all of the Chantry. He'd betrayed Her for his own lands and power, and I was reminded of what I'd done to Hawke for my people and their power. She could have died in my war, right then.

I may not have sacrificed her, but I didn't protect her enough from my actions.

Maferath spoke again, or still, saying, “Jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of all the Alamarri... Beside her, I was nothing. Hundreds fell before her on bended knee because they loved her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare with a god?"

Hawke turned aside and looked away into an alcove, standing very still. Aside from her shoulders shaking the slightest bit.

Ignoring the others, I stepped close and carefully put my arms around her. “Dera?”

She turned towards me, her eyes were wet and face shifting with barely controlled emotions. In a barely audible whisper, she said while looking at my chest, “Maybe when this is over, and you're better, we should go out separate ways. I'm not...”

Hawke didn't finish her sentence, and I was afraid to hear what was next. Still I asked, “What, Love?”

“I'm tired of sharing you. With Justice, with all the mages in Thedas. I don't want to become like him.” She finally met my eyes.

I felt like the floor dropped out. Despite more than approving rumbling inside, I pulled her close. “Dera, I'm sorry.” My first impulse was to repeat my warnings from around the Deep Roads Expedition, but I realized how stupid it was to say that. “You are what I cannot sacrifice, even for other mages. You will never be nothing, always the Champion to me.”

She sighed, and asked in normal tones, “Does that title mean anything? I'm sure it's been recanted or replaced by now. Not that it got me much outside this armor and a few ales.”

“It is a truth that no Divine can take away, Love. Maybe...” I didn't know what hope to express after the Ashes, it was a blank. “Maybe we can rescue a few kittens after this?”

I hoped she'd understand what I couldn't dare dwell on.

“Kittens were few in Kirkwall,” Merrill observed. “No one seemed to know the reason, and most places have many.”

“Blood Magic...” Sebastian muttered.

“That might be true,” I had to admit. “Few resisted it, and whatever you think of me, I've never done that. But I've traveled throughout Ferelden and some places outside and met many mages. Most don't. Well, most human mages outside Kirkwall.”

“How long does Tevinter influence linger in the rock?” Hawke pulled away from me and moved over the the next figure, a woman in rich robes, standing tall.

"Return unto others what was done unto... blood washes blood. The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?" The spirit's voice was angry and proud.

Hawke said in a clipped voice, “Vengeance.”

The spirit gave her account with almost righteous anger. "My husband Hessarian would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that she would die, publicly with Her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength. I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood."

I could feel my spirit swell in power and my skin felt too small. He wasn't smothered, but my head rang with his vindication. I beat him down in an instant that felt like forever where I was the battleground between the vengeance and justice the spirit spoke of.

When I came back to myself, Hawke was holding me awkwardly. Merrill had stepped back and Sebastian had drawn his bow. I almost quipped that Elthina had a quick death, but decided that was a bad idea.

I gave Hawke a quick kiss, so she knew that I was myself. I spoke to the prince. “I've never wanted blood, blood belongs inside. I want change for the better, not stasis where a servant gets more respect and freedom than a mage, inside and outside a tower. I was happy healing people I encountered and whoring my way across the country, that's how I met Isabella. Whatever else I've become is because of being hunted and seeing the harmless ones destroyed. You can't deny that I haven't hunted blood mages and the real abominations.”

“Was there much of a difference, just now?” Sebastian asked, his voice neutral for a change.

I had no answer.

Hawke stepped away, pulling me with her by the hand toward that first spirit on the other side. Four more to go.

This was another woman, whose voice was a bit more cheerful. “I dreamed I saw fairies dance upon the midnight sky. Where lights, like lanterns grew without a whim or why. Amid their joy, amid their dance, we came singing in their midst. But without a sound they flew away from us into the mist.”

Merrill spoke, seriously, “A lightning fly.”

The spirit's story of singing with the young Andraste didn't seem relevant to a test of faith as much so I just waited until the others moved on.

The next spirit had a robe that reminded me of early Chantry robes, but he was not a Sister. I wasn't listening enough for the next riddle and missed it. No one answered it and I asked the spirit if it could repeat it.

His words didn't seem familiar, “The Maker's creation is but as clay and strives to see Him, veiled as would His bride be.”

“Fog?” Hawke asked while I still thought.

The spirit transformed into a shade and attacked us. Only the surprise after only facing riddles made it dangerous. Once it was defeated, I looked around, afraid that failing that riddle ended our chance at the test, but the remaining two spirits ignored the skirmish.

Panting, I mentioned, “I think the answer was mountains.”

“Now you tell us,” Sebastian grumbled.

Hawke sat down on the floor to rest, When I sat beside her, she leaned back against me. Sebastian prowled around the hall, staying away from the last two spirits. Merrill was writing some notes, maybe on Shartan. For all I knew he might be an ancestor. Paws rested on Hawke, and Mew was chewing another feather off my pauldrons.

I would need to repair that soon or I will look like I'm molting.

After.

Hawke mused, “I wonder if they bothered to include privies for us pilgrims or if we'll need to keep an eye out for a dark corner...”

That made me laugh. “We'll have to watch for that, but this is only the second chamber. I doubt they'd expect so much danger to even get here.”

We sat there, leaning against each other, and I wasn't thinking much. After a bit, Hawke stirred and stood up, offering me a hand. Mew bit my ear when I lurched a little while standing.

The next to last spirit was in another set of Chantry-like robes, and he didn't have the thinner look of a life-long scholar or Brother. I thought I could see scars from some kind of battle still visible on his transparent skin.

He turned to Hawke and said, “Its claws make weak the strongest man, though no shield can fend it off. None can see it but all have felt it. Spawned from nothing it consumes armies like a fire.”

We looked at each other, wary about giving the wrong answer. Merrill rubbed her stomach, which matched my answer; Hawke nodded. Sebastian gave the answer.

“Hunger was the weapon against the wicked of the Tevinter Imperium,” he spoke with a ringing confidence. “The Maker kindled the sun's flame to burn the land. Crops withered, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters to wash away their filth. I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us!” He made a gesture of blessing and disappeared.

This left the last spirit, who wore a sword, a long one like Celebrant. But he wore armor much like what I wore in Amaranthine. Was he a mage too, as well as a swordsman?

Hawke marched up to him and waited.

His voice was hopeful when he said, “She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?”

This wasn't that difficult a question, but it was such a hard thing to remember. I looked at Hawke one of the very few I'd known to show this quality.

She looked at me, probably thinking along the same lines, when she said sadly while looking right at me, “Mercy.”

Reaching for her even as the spirit began his testament, I wanted to say something.

“I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end Her life.” His voice was a mix of shame, horror, and guilt that echoed in my ears more than the others, somehow. “I am the penitent sinner, the Archon Hessarian, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him.”

Hessarian, whose sword and flames became the icon for the Templars, though they have long forgotten any mercy but death. They preferred to make examples. A moment after he finished, his spirit also disappeared and the door opened.

We were silent as we looked at each other,

Stepping to the doorway, there were no alcoves and I was about to make a joke to Hawke when I saw a figure standing ahead of us, wearing mage robes and looking distinguished with gray in his beard.

Hawke shouted happily, “Carver!”

 

Notes:

The chapter title is adapted from a quote by Robert Green Ingersoll. Some riddles and quotes are adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.

Chapter 33: The Noblest Path to Wisdom

Summary:

Hawke and Anders hope that the Sacred Ashes will save him from the growing threat of Vengeance, but they have only only passed the first test of the riddles. Now they must face reflections of their pasts and themselves.

-- The Gauntlet, after the First Test

Hawke:

I still felt bad about getting that riddle wrong, I'd worried that not knowing the answers would end our task with Anders still doomed for trying to make the world better. The spirits' stories were much more the lessons than the riddles. I wondered if this had been any different for normal pilgrims like that couple we'd helped on the road.

But the door opened, even if the hallway beyond was not as brightly lit as the room where we'd answered the spirits' challenges. I wondered if all these tests would be as unnerving and troubling.

We stepped through the door and I saw a familiar figure gazing at a statue, even if he was slouching a little. I rushed forward, but pulled up short of a tackle.

He turned, looking just as I had last seen him, saying in such a calm voice, “Aldera, sister.”

“Carver, how are you here? I saw you after that ogre...” I wanted to hug him, my little brother who'd hated that for years, with all of the touchy pride of cocky young man. “I've missed you so much.”

He answered with a bit of his usual sarcasm. “I'm not in your shadow anymore, am I?”

This wasn't what I'd wanted to say to him, nothing about our flight from darkspawn. “Carver, I found swords you would have liked. I so wished I could have given them to you, and seen you become a general or whatever you wanted.”

He rolled his eyes and told me, “You know that I'm really gone, whatever you wish for, whatever you've saved for your baby brother, is useless now.”

“But, nothing's ever been the same, been right, since you died. You, Mother, even Bethany, who might as well be dead to me for all I've heard from her...” My eyes had filled and I wiped them with my palms.

“You have to let me go, Dera. Get over it. I chose to fight darkspawn and to save Mother. Some things only the Maker can protect us from.” His grin became a little mocking. “And you keep using such puny blades when you fight, right?”

I had to laugh at his old complaint from when we were in the army.

Carver's smile became less mocking and more real. “And you just had to fall for a mage, just like Mother, after all I told you.” He paused and looked up, “You have much to fight yet, Sister. When you fight darkspawn again, kill an ogre or two for me.”

He shoved something small into my hand, even if I could feel no flesh as I took it. Then he just... faded away.

Wiping my eyes again, I finally noticed there were other hazy figures about where Carver had been. I peeked at what was in my hand, and it was an old whetstone, the same as the one Papa and Carver had used for years.

Paws nudged my leg; I wasn't sure if he had seen Carver or not, but he could tell when I cried.

Merrill stepped forward, hesitantly saying, “Tamlen, lethallin.”

As she spoke, a Dalish with the blade of a sword showing on his back, grew more visible and solid to me. I'd heard that name before from her, but only briefly. Seeing him made him more than someone from one of her tales like the Dread Wolf, or Cennis, the Bann hunter.

He replied with a fond smile, “Merrill, Sweetings, it is so warm here in this place. I had forgotten the warmth of flame.”

“Where are you? What city did you find? I took it after you disappeared and Dorohel died...” She sounded full of a stretched grief and her voice wobbly.

“You cannot find me now, my track is dust, blown away before the Dread Wolf can find me in the Beyond.”

I looked at Anders, as listening to the normally sunny Merrill being nearly in tears was painful.

Her voice hardened. “I vowed to the Creators that I would find you and bring you back to the Sabrae. The Eluvian was made with a function, I only need to find how to remind it. Then the knowledge is not lost and worthless as you always tho...”

“Lethallan... What was for us is now only da'era, floating away as the seasons turn. I do not yet breathe and seeking that like a curious kitten will only lead you into death.” He sounded irritated. “There is nothing left for your seeking.”

“How can I not seek, when I could not even plant a tree over you?” Merrill asked.

Reaching a hand out towards her face before stopping, Tamlen told her, “Some of the lost can never be found, some mistakes can never be undone. You have suffered enough. It is time to choose something else for your unending curiosity.”

Merrill gave a small, suppressed sob.

“Take this, Sweeting. It is a small thing, but it should remind you when I cannot. Take care.” He faded away, just as Carver had.

Anders had taken my hand while they spoke and I gripped his more tightly. Merrill looked at what she was given, which looked like it was carved jade. She held it close for a moment before putting it away safely.

I was beginning to wonder who was left, and why it almost seemed to be too many figures left, even now. I looked backwards, wondering if we had been followed by the Templar or some cultist. But I saw no one, nor was Paws alert as if a stranger was near.

Anders leaned close to whisper with a grin, “Hold me, Hawke, I'm scared.”

I could hear a bit of nerves in his joke and squeezed his hand.

“Sebastian, last of a blessed line...” The man who spoke this was in fine clothing of an unfamiliar style. It wasn't armor or robes, unlike the rest we'd seen here, and his gauntness seemed more noted than the death that clung to the riddle givers.

Blanching slightly, Sebastian mustered up some outrage. “Begone spirit! I need no lies from demons or spirits!” Raising a hand he began a prayer, “Andraste, under the shadow of Thy robes do we make our refuge until these evils be past.”

“I am gladdened that my line remains true to Andraste and seeks not worldly power,” the man said with a brief smile. “But remember that I did not turn our people aside from Ironfist's way by edicts and commands, but by example. Ironfist was not inspired to deliver the blade of rule by force, but by our faith and steadfastness.”

“Ser.” Sebastian seemed to be struggling with admitting whoever he was facing. “I cannot stand by while ones like Ironfist harm others. ...It seems I am not inspiring as you were, even in the face of the murder of one of Her handmaidens.”

His usual glare at Anders and I was only brief, and I had no impulse to interact with his visitor.

This ancient Vael didn't glare at us. “The Maker gives you what you need, grandson. Ironfist gloried in his power, using it to grind our people until we gathered our faith and courage to act, without armies, without assassins. Did you think none offered that to the cause during the many days of our vigil? Each man or woman must decide when to say, 'Enough,' to any oppression. Ironfist's forces repented and joined us.”

“Malificarum must pay for their crimes,” Sebastian ground out.

Gently the spirit asked, “And do you, merely a mortal man, decide what the Maker's judgment is? Pride and rage are sins. That is what Elthina tried to teach you while you were a Brother.”

“So is sloth,” Sebastian objected, his voice raising in anger.

Anders laughed, and then added, “So it's sloth when it's not mages being hurt.”

I elbowed him and then put an arm around my mage. These were somehow private moments. I was glad when he put his around me as well.

“That's different!” Sebastian cried, turning to look at us. When the spirit was silent, he turned back and demanded, “They killed a Grand Cleric inside the Chantry...”

“They will answer for that when they face the Maker. Ironfist thought he was a king but ruled like a tyrant; none could speak for him as benefiting our people, he was losing before I began.” The spirit's voice showed some thought on the consequences. “You must be guided by your own reason and prayer. Be an example and hold fast to who and what is important, even if you are the only one on the steps of the Chantry. Lead by example and show mercy if you become a leader of others.”

The spirit looked at me this time, without any expression. I wasn't sure if he was encouraging Sebastian to start a vigil against Anders and I, or what.

Sighing, Sebastian gave up his disbelief. “Prayer and admonition over these months has not accomplished anything but betrayal and loss, Grandfather Kyros. Leading only left me an oathbound prisoner.”

The spirit shook his head, “I led those who believed as I. What was the quality of those you led and did they believe in and follow your example? Were you patient as the days passed on your steps?”

Sebastian flushed and shook his head. The spirit held out a hand as if to give him something, and Sebastian looked wary again as he held out his hand. The spirit dropped a handful of what looked to be dust at first. Then I realized that it was a large handful of mustard seed, which meant something to Sebastian.

I looked up and the spirit had left.

Merrill, without comment, pulled out something to catch and collect the seeds before they spilled and Sebastian thanked her absently.

The next figure to become more substantial was in mage robes and had a beard. For an instant I thought it might be Karl and I was afraid that Anders would pull away. I wasn't a mage, and a tiny part of me was afraid that Anders would have been happier with Karl if he had been rescued, that I had benefited from that failure.

But as the figure became more clear to my eyes, this wasn't the man I had met only after he had been burned with the mark of the Tranquil. This man looked older with a gray-streaked beard and slightly bent from his cares. The robes were rich and well made, and obviously of Circle style. I suddenly realized that my father's tunics were of similar dark hues and cut, despite changes needed for manual labor.

The spirit just shook his head and said, “Anders. You know what it costs us to get attached.”

Anders jerked and almost pulled his arm back from around me. “Irving, I haven't been under Circle rule for many years now. Wardens tried to recruit at Kinloch and found me at Amaranthine.”

Irving sighed. “I sometimes wondered if their cause would absorb your rebellious energy better than remaining under Greagoir, but I waited to be sure you could control yourself before suggesting it to anyone. You seemed bent on following your lusts and emotions more than anything else and that was a recipe for disaster. Wynne and Karl learned diplomacy and patience far better than you...”

“What did that get Karl? They did that butchery to him, even if he never wanted to become an apostate!” Anders was getting angrier now.

“Check your conclusions, apprentice! How can you be sure he was not changed by his time in Kirkwall? You changed so much in your brief time with the Grey Wardens, from apostate to near abomination. Did you speak long enough with him that you have proof he still was only the mild teacher you knew and not becoming one of the blood mages endemic in that city?” Irving's stern teacher's voice would have given anyone a pause.

Anders closed his eyes, “There was no time, and unlike him, blood mages wandered Kirkwall freely; that he wasn't working with them can be easily inferred. Fearing the Rite doesn't mean he was guilty of whatever delusion the Templars claimed. Ella and Gascard weren't guilty either.”

Smiling slightly, the older mage observed, “You rant about Circle and Templar rules, but you make similar judgments about innocent and guilty mages... Are you not in a small Circle now, with other mages and near Templars with blades and bow to guard you and guard against you? Maybe you want to be First Enchanter like me? Maybe I should have set you to different lessons?”

Jerking away from Irving, Anders sputtered for a moment. I hugged him a little with the arm that was still around him.

Anders looked at me and tried to smile. To Irving he stated, more calmly, “Mutual aid is not forcing us into a little box and using the threat of having our minds destroyed, our souls cut from the Fade, as whips. Even you needed aid outside the Circle structure that the Chantry imposed on us during the Blight. An apostate, a witch of the wild saved your Circle from a full nullification. You didn't survive Uldred, and how many under your care were like nugs to the slaughter? The outsiders spoke of it and the trained Templars did no better than you. You, yourself even became an...”

“I am quite aware of what was imposed on me,” Irving said sharply. “My belief in Uldred's benevolence was as premature and disastrous as your conclusion about Kristoff's heirs. You still have the chances to correct assumptions which are unfounded, apprentice.”

“Maybe then you can be called a First among mages, instead of rebellious boy.” Irving took a step closer and then dropped something into Anders' free hand.

I peeked, and it was a brooch, akin to the ones I saw on other Circle mages, but Anders seemed a little shaken when he held it. Irving smiled at me and nodded as he faded away, and I wondered what he had known about my father.

Anders gripped the stone, his voice taking on a different timbre even as he began to glow. His eyes a blue lightning flecked darkness, I couldn't hold on to him as my mage was subsumed. I had to close my eyes for an instant of prayer when I let go of him.

“Boy?” He said in disbelief. “Bowing to Greagoir did nothing to protect his charges from Templar abuse. Punishments were cruel, abusive, and not... just for their offenses. When he did nothing to improve the lot of his students and delivered the young and distrusted into the hands of demons, he was attached more to sloth than to them.”

“He is dead now, there's nothing we can do about him or his decisions.” I hoped rational points like this might help, emotional ones didn't.

Their voice rose now. “There are dozens, even hundreds of frightened mages who are repeating his choices! They fear the Templars and Chantry behind them. Treated like children and used like animals, worse than others care for their dogs. They should pay for every life blighted, every future crushed, and every drop of blood shed from the mages!”

My stomach was churning and I was afraid I was about to retch from Vengeance's rant. I feared that I needed my daggers when we were so close to the Ashes; I watched him closely as I hoped I wouldn't have to.

Then I heard Anders' laugh.

But it wasn't.

I was watching him... them... when I heard it.

I turned slightly towards where Carver had been standing before.

Standing there was Anders.

An Anders who looked different, akin to how he'd looked in Orzammar, but not really. He wore very nice robes with feathers and elaborate silver bracers with some kind of bird. He had a different cat in his arms, and he looked healthy and happy. He didn't have the creases between his eyes.

“Andraste's knicker-weasels! I didn't do it! Well, it looks like I did, didn't I? I thought you weren't one of those spirits with sparking personalities.” He seemed to be joking.

“No, those were perverted by their desires. I do not desire things.” Anders' glow had subsided a little.

I relaxed a little, I didn't know what this was, all the others we'd spoken too were dead. Did that mean Anders was already dead, and I loved only a remnant, a rotting corpse like he'd named Kristoff?

“It's rather obvious you don't,” the other Anders chuckled. “You have three delicious looking companions there, and you'd rather blather on about abused mages and Templars in the middle of some... almost romantic ruins. No one bothers to oppress us in dangerous ruins, well no one but Templars, but they are rather dim-witted about that.”

Merrill chuckled quietly at that.

“Have I mentioned that I find tattoos incredibly attractive?” the other Anders asked in a smooth voice to Merrill.

My eyes snapped to him, as he hadn't, at least not to me. He was looking at Merrill, who almost looked horrified. Justice looked annoyed, with the familiar crease at his forehead. Sebastian looked back and forth between the two Anders. It wasn't altogether clear which one horrified him more the abomination he knew, or the flirt who sounded like he was about to proposition him.

“Frivolous distractions. You have a responsibility!”

“And? I'm a talented little mage, I can do both. They are very lovely and you won't be doing anything more enjoyable, even with a much less stinky body now. I'm not sure how I could have lost all my style, it's not like that prevents killing darkspawn or even Templars when they try to go against the queen's orders...” This other Anders shrugged when Merrill shook her head, and turned towards me with a charming smile.

My Anders took a step forward, saying nothing, but still glowing and stepping between the other Anders and us. Me, if I was feeling stupidly optimistic.

I wasn't, he was getting angry with everything the other Anders said, even if it wasn't a full rage.

That Anders waved his arms in a wide shrug and looked around. “At least this is a picturesque kind of ruin, less tears in the veil, less moss hanging off everything like Blackmarsh, less immortal blood mages who can affect even spirits of Justice, less villagers who don't know they're dead...”

“How can he be here?” Sebastian interrupted with what I was afraid to.

With a grin and a shake of his finger at Sebastian, the other Anders said, “Maybe we aren't what you think we are. We might be those who have unfinished business, or maybe even a reminder not to get stuck in old mistakes and assumptions. Maybe I'm here to see if Justice remembers what Anders was like when he was just a Gray Warden. Maybe I'm just here for a spicy shimmy with the lady who's crying.”

I reached up and my cheeks were wet.

Anders turned back to me, his eyes still glowing, but then it faded back to his own brown in only a second. Stepping close, he reached up to brush away the wet. His smile was odd, but he said, “Love?”

When I looked up into his eyes, I worried again that he never would have wanted me if he'd still been like this other Anders. How long until he moved on if he was free of Vengeance? It wasn't like we were married or he was willing to promise through his Calling. Those were the practiced moves of a smooth charmer who had left many lovers in his wake.

I was saying goodbye a little more every time I remembered this. I'd been fugitive all my life, and so rarely found anyone for myself. Where would I go? What would I do when he left? I didn't even know what to say now.

The other Anders coughed and said, “There's more to this side of the Veil than oppression.” He seemed to tap Anders' shoulder and pulled Anders palm towards him. “There's also the running and the screaming and the nasty-ass mages and Broodmothers.” Then he also faded away.

Anders brought up what was in his hand, and his eyes flashed blue before his hand gripped the old ring.

Curious, I said, “Anders?”

“A gift from a friend which should not be here,” he said with reluctance.

When his eyes were brown again, he shook his head. “I don't know, Hawke, it was lost after the Vigil.” He put his arm around me again, his head leaning down against mine.

These items, which I thought were impossible, but the weight of the whetstone I could still feel against me countered that belief. After those... they weren't quite spirits like the riddle-givers seemed, but we weren't dreaming if we could interact with the others' visitors.

I brought the whet-stone back out and showed it to them, “Carver was always better at cleaning and honing his blades.” I hoped I might get a better look at what the others had gotten.

My back was rubbed by my mage, which helped with my refreshed grief a little. I didn't know if I could have endured a vision of Papa's slow death.

Anders displayed two items in his hand, and seemed ambivalent even as he showed them. “This Enchanter's brooch is what I finally accepted that I'd never earn because of my escapes. I was much better at practice than my peers, even before I was conscripted by the Wardens. This is a larger one, for higher rank too.”

“And the ring?” Merrill wondered. “I can feel the power of lyrium singing from it.”

“Lyrium?” Sebastian looked alarmed. “Did you not say that the Knight-Commander was poisoned by her blade?”

A tingle of electricity ran along where I was touching Anders, but didn't hurt.

“That lyrium did not sing, it wailed with some kind of taint not seen even in the Fade. This ring was found in Kal'Hirol, not near Kirkwall.”

I turned to look at his face, but the glow was fading away into his brown eyes again. What seemed so odd was that other than what he said to Irving, he hadn't been really angry, even if Justice and Anders were swapping repeatedly within moments.

Merril held out a carving, worn and looking centuries old, of a jade elven warrior in armor. “This was his dearest treasure, passed down through the ages that he kept with him. It was lost when he was.”

“Prince Kyros lived generations ago, but his lessons in mustard seed are many.” Sebastian sounded thoughtful, not about to start some kind of fasting vigil.

He didn't say more and I wasn't sure if I could pry more information from a prisoner. The statue that had been behind Carver and Irving was some kind of undetailed female figure with a shield. That wasn't very inspiring. “We seem to have a choice between right or left.”

Quiet, very quiet, no one had an opinion, so I moved to the left alcove and doorway. The others stepped forward, too. The room seemed bare, with some wispy cobwebs in the corners and nothing else.

Anders frowned, even as I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye where there had been nothing. I looked and it was Sebastian, already drawing his bow and aiming at me. He was betraying us after that chat with his ancestor! I reached for a smoke grenade so I could dash behind him and finish him.

I never heard the release, but the dragon stomped on my chest, just off center. My armor fended off most of it, but I spun around as I nearly fell and saw Sebastian behind me too.

“We must defeat them!” Anders shouted as he began to glow and to cast a spell.

I saw the other figures now, and I drew back in surprise. I could not afford to add to the confusion with my grenade. Struggling to straighten up, lighting struck me and my legs were encased in ice and I couldn't move.

Screaming, “Hawke!” Anders cast a protective bubble around me

Arrow upon arrow rained down, throughout the room threatening both sides even as an ice storm blew in too, from all directions. I couldn't move, but I threw my smaller dagger at the further Merrill who didn't have plants meshing around her. She had cast a lightning spell that burned me.

The ice around me was cold and hurt me a lot, but it wasn't loosening fast enough for me to act. I wouldn't throw the Bassrath-Kata, leaving me with no blades freed. I scanned the room, and while I saw two Sebastians, two Merrills, two Paws, and two Anders, right now I didn't see another me.

If she could kill like me... I looked for her frantically.

Anders shouted in pain and again blazed suddenly with Justice's presence, while the other Hawke was shoved away. He was gushing blood and I stabbed at the ice holding me, blindly. Another arrow, this one went through my gut and pain erased all thought for a small eternity.

When I managed to shake that off after a flash of heat and I was free to move, I looked around and the only ones I wasn't sure of from a glance were the Sebastians. Anders, with Justice's glow, was still bleeding, while the other Anders didn't seem to have a spirit. The other Merrill had the swirl of blood magic while the one close to me still had the vines. The second mabari was gone, not even a body was visible to my search.

I started to go for the blood mage when the sound of an exhale too close and in the wrong direction made me roll aside. Maker, I... she was hard to kill. I couldn't find any advantage in speed or changing attacks as we each attacked and evaded, our movements in the same quick rhythm. An earthen clump struck her in the head and that distracted her long enough for me to slice her throat.

Her neck cut nearly in half by my Qun blade, it was highly disturbing the hear her death rattle. Had she felt for her Anders, too? Did she worry about her Merrill using blood magic?

“Hawke!” Anders' shouted as another hail of arrows fell on us.

I had to move, to draw attention and cripple if I could before changing targets. My being held lost me too much time. Hurry, hurry!

Then I spotted Paws barreling into one of the Sebastians, so I attacked there next. After the first stab, he used his bow as a club when I was too close for him to draw, and he pulled a dagger to stab back. But I was forcing him out of his strengths and he was easier to fight that way.

Whether I should tell him this as a potential enemy gave me a pang even as I turned about looking for another target. The only one left was the other Anders, and this was more than just a pang. It clawed at my heart.

He cast another ice storm filling the chamber, slowing me even as I circled around him. He was being attacked by earth and ice, but he must have had some kind of protective spell that they weren't reaching him. An arrow actually bounced off as he cast another spell.

From behind I yanked his pony pail to expose his throat, noticing only now that his hair was still blonde with the short queue that I'd played with for years. He looked like the Anders I'd fallen in love with. And he didn't have a spirit either.

I paused.

I hated myself for doing that.

I finished the deep slice, carelessly cutting myself a little, holding my love's twin as he fell.

I was so afraid I would have to do this for real.

Anders dropped down beside me and pulled me roughly into his arms, crooning as I wept. He healed me as we rocked.

Notes:

A/N: The chapter title is adapted from a quote by Confucius.

Chapter 34: Grief Doth Drive Men to Reflection

Summary:

Partway through the Trials of Faith in the Gauntlet, Hawke and Anders have faced the Guardian's questions and ghosts from their own past. The tests continue, and all of the companions must reflect as well. And after the test will come the Maker's judgment embodied in the Ashes of Andraste.

-- The Gauntlet, the Second Test

Anders:

That reflection didn't have Justice. He had more spells, some I barely remembered using anymore, spells that energized the others, spells that made their blows hit with more force, shielded him, and healed them continually. He was able to maintain multiple spells and attack, which I couldn't. Many of our attack spells were the same but the cumulative effects of those other spells were telling.

Hawke, even with the greater enchantments on this armor, was nearly killed by that archer while I threw prison and fire spells to counter his ice and greater paralysis ones.

Praying that Hawke would not see this, I cast the explosive death spell on the other mabari without the basket. That hurt the other Dalish when the dog died. Once I'd freed Hawke, we started making better progress, instead of merely holding our ground.

Next was the hardest for me, Hawke's twin. They looked identical in their Champion armor, unlike the small differences between the Dalish, and the dogs. Once they fought each other with entering and leaving stealth and using acrobatics, I lost track of which was my love.

Finally, I saw an earthen spell hit one and Paws bite her as well. The mabari should know, I hoped. One Hawke stood now and attacked an archer; I used ice on the other Dalish after casting some healing. My opposite healed as well, and I tried to keep him busy enough with my spells that he could not revive their casualties.

A cry of victory from the Merrill not using blood magic, and I finally saw that only my opposite was left. He shifted his magics without allies to aid, and cast his better paralysis spell towards us. I couldn't stop him in time and we couldn't move.

Justice was roaring, and almost burning through the magic on us from within, but Hawke had either shaken it off or her stealth abilities made her a harder target. She appeared again, to slice his throat through, cutting herself with that knife.

She was weeping, her lungs heaving as my heart broke.

Dropping my spells when I was free to move again, I rushed over to her, holding her as she shook with her sorrow. “Shh, Love. I'm fine.”

Dera whispered, “I'd prefer if my nightmares stayed in the Fade.”

Only thing that I could think of to say to her was, “We're close, Love.”

Then I would be free, or Justice would return to the Fade when I died from the Maker's judgment.

Rumbling from inside that was growing again, didn't break out into thoughts this time.

Sebastian spoke up, sounding uneasy again. “Why was his magic more powerful?”

Annoyed, I asked, “Why do you think? I was more powerful then. Over those times in the last decade I've mentioned that I fought with the Grey Wardens of Ferelden during the Blight, with the Warden who killed the Archdemon, did you think I was lying? Anyone who fights with her, learns quickly or dies.” I felt a pang for that earnest recruit who wanted to fight at the Vigil, but didn't survive her Joining. I was glaring now. “That happens for all Wardens, I think, but Cousland was more focused and determined than usual for Warden Commanders, I hear, so we learned ancient, lost skills to fight the Blight and I learned things I would not have learned in a lifetime in a Circle. The battles in the Kirkwall were smaller than many during that Blight. We needed all that just to defeat the darkspawn like the Architect.”

“I thought mages were too powerful, but you were...” Sebastian finally showed a trace of fear.

That made me laugh. “You are almost ten years too late for that fear. You call me abomination, but I have less magic in many ways, even years of study later. All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning when attacked. But you and yours deny us that humble cottage.”

Justice would make accusations of sloth, but if Hawke was there, I'd be willing to try.

“I thought abominations and demons were more powerful than that.” Sebastian seemed to be finally listening.

“No. Demons have no moderation. Spirits are helpful, even benevolent, in the Fade. Often they help a mage survive their Harrowing, from the demons the Templars use for their test. Why think they would change their nature outside of the Fade?” I thought about the spirits I used to call for healing or help while I still walked the Fade.

“Then what about you? You have not been benevolent when your spirit appears.” This was still an accusation, even if Sebastian's voice was calm.

Rubbing Hawke's arms, I replied, “I don't know, Justice was always stern with a stick up his arse, but he looked at how mages were treated with an outsider's eye. We both were raised as if it is a curse. It was always very clear to him that it was very wrong, but he agreed that the Blight took precedence. I was more interested in staying free and finding pretty bed-mates.”

Hawke winced and I nudged her face toward me again, tracing the subtle shading on her cheekbones with my thumbs before kissing her. I had few words to convince or console her, my future was too unknown.

This time I would say it, hoping it would be true. “Always, until my Calling and beyond.”

My eyes were wet, too, as we knelt together on the bare floor.

Merrill interrupted us to say, “Their bodies are gone now, as if they had never been. Did mages create this for the Chantry? It seems both creation and arcane magics.”

I looked, and it was just ourselves in the hall now, with only one exit opposite the two that led back. We passed through a small chamber and then into a cavern with a deep, deep pit in the middle and no bridges.

The Warden groaned about this one every time she told this story.

“Normally I like puzzles,” I muttered as we got closer. My words echoed, even out of the black depths of a chasm. “Give me the village of liars and truth-tellers, or the boat with wolves and sheep, and riddles... riddles are wonderful...”

“Do you remember anything about this, Anders?” Hawke asked.

“Yes and no, Hawke. I know the principle of the solution, we have to pick them, pairs at a time to make a bridge, one section at a time. Tedious and risky for the one on the bridge.”

I had a sinking feeling, knowing Hawke would take that risk. We would test the solution first until I was sure. For this, I insisted we record our tests in my journal. I could not be sure, but I thought this was different than what I'd heard years ago.

While Hawke and Sebastian tested the combinations, Merrill asked, “How is this a test of faith? Magical triggers are well understood by those who enchant, but this doesn't seem to test any part of your chanting. This doesn't even seem to relate to your prophet, any more than that fight.”

Sebastian frowned. “I do not know about those copies, but this may test your faith in your companions.”

“Do you have faith in them, Prince of Starkhaven?” Merrill asked gravely.

“No,” he turned aside and said quietly, after he looked briefly at each of us.

Hawke spoke in a flat voice, “Then it is good that we won't be testing the Brother's faith.”

He looked guilty at hearing that.

It wasn't that much longer until we had the sequence of platforms to stand on and Hawke made it across despite her platform floating without support. When she reached the other side, the full bridge locked into place.

I didn't know if it was deliberate, but Vael hurried to cross with us instead of lagging behind.

The feeling of power was increasing with almost every step down the passageway. I met Merrill's eyes and she seemed to be feeling the same thing. A little bit further and even Hawke and Sebastian seemed to be feeling it. The sound of flames cracking echoed into the hallway as did some of the flames' light.

I felt energized, almost as if I was in the Deep Roads and surrounded by lyrium, but Hawke seemed jittery.

“We should take a break,” she announced decisively. “It almost feels like days since we left Ormonde.”

Even if she'd just said we should rest, she couldn't settle. So I pulled her down to sit with me against the wall while Mew explored. Maybe they were being polite for Hawke or wanted to contemplate, but Merrill and even Sebastian were down the hall.

“One more challenge, Love. Unless it has changed, we must pass through the fire to reach Andraste's Ashes.” I doubted I would survive divine fire, nearly as much as I doubted I would survive the Ashes.

A few minutes of quiet time with Dera before this would not be the worst way to die.

She shifted to sit on my lap as she rarely did, and I gathered her close. I breathed in her scent, her self that wasn't like some delicate flower. “Thank you, Love. You've made my life bearable and even joyful...”

Leaning back so her head wasn't against my shoulder, Hawke glared at me. “This is not goodbye...”

She was starting on some kind of lecture in her annoyance, but I wanted her to listen now.

“Aldera,” I interrupted with the name I hadn't used very often and put a finger on her lips.

Looking afraid, Dera stopped speaking.

“I have killed innocents, and not by accident. I regret that and they deserve justice. I have spent most of my life mastering magic and healing others, and that act is alien to the man I was. Don't spoil this time by arguing that I can't die.” I had tucked a letter I'd worked on in the hostel last night with our bulkier supplies, she would find it. Like my Manifesto, it didn't satisfy all I wanted to say, but I wanted something to leave her if I didn't survive.

Her face crumpled for a moment, but she managed to speak. “I know you can die, Anders. But if anyone has ever merited the mercy mentioned in the Chant, it should be you. I don't know what I could do if you... died.”

Forcing a smile, I told her, “Well, you could use those robes and hide in the Chantry for a while. I might even be willing to give the playacting idea a chance, myself, if we need to.”

Hawke's laugh was disbelieving. “Now you agree? After all that temper?”

“I'd agree to a lot of things if it means your safety. Don't go and do something stupid like bearding a Magister in his tower, or invade a Qunari stronghold.” I wasn't going to even mention the ones I thought too possible, of her finding her sister in the Dark Roads or assassinating the Divine, or trying. “Get a cottage, get a barn to hold all the interesting things you find. Friends and lovers, have a good life, a better one that you've had with me.”

I was repeating some things from my letter, but I didn't want her to become one of those sad Blight widows I'd treated for sometimes imaginary problems.

Hugging me until my ribs creaked, Dera muttered, “I don't happen to agree with your definition that we've not had a good life.”

Sighing, I could only be thankful she thought this way. “You are so strong, Love.” At her snort, I deliberately gasped and said, “Air. Remember that I'm delicate...”

She loosened her embrace to look at me in alarm, but I smiled at her until she did, too. “You were made Champion, not the Merchant Guild Lord, not the Guard Captain, not even the Chantry-boy. You deserved it. Right a few wrongs, help the mages if you can. Live well.”

I stopped with that. I'd said more in my letter about my hopes for her and the future, things I should have had prepared before the Chantry. She still had many more years left.

When Hawke looked over at Sebastian looming over Merrill and lecturing her, her shoulders sagged before she straightened up again. “I'd much rather do it with you.”

Smiling my relief, I teased her, “Of course you would, I'm very talented. Ask anyone... at the Pearl, the Flagon, the Dirty Mabari, the King's Arms... though you'd think a monarch's arms would be more sturdy. I really didn't think the bed would collapse like that.”

I relaxed into her kiss, we had these moments before we would move on again.

After that, we stood up and the others moved closer. Merrill had that serene look she usually had when she was actively ignoring a rant. It wasn't as annoying when it was Sebastian being ignored.

Hawke led us forward.

The next chamber was larger and not quite consciously grand like the larger Chantries, despite the grand stairs leading upward on the other side of the room. It didn't look finished, being bare stone without any plaster.

The most obvious thing was a wall of fire, splitting the room. The fire brightened the cavernous room, but even more than that, it warmed it. Even in the doorway, I was sweating in my robes now, and mopped my forehead. The fire filled the space between the right and left walls. I could see there was more fire, further in, but nothing was consumed.

Even magical fire burned.

Hawke edged into the room, towards a small stone altar, which was the only thing on this side of the wall of fire.

I lagged a little behind, where it was marginally cooler, until she spoke.

“There's some words carved here, like another riddle,” Hawke said doubtfully.

When I moved forward, I could feel a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. Hawke's hair was already wet when she had dropped her hood down. Vael didn't even seem to be noticing that sweat was soaking his head, making him appear to be balding.

The altar had words inset into the stone on the top in gold, and hesitantly Hawke ran her fingers over them. Then she placed her hand against the stone. “The stone is cooler than the air.”

I read the words, 'Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in your faith in the Maker. King and slave, merchant and beggar, be born anew in the Maker's sight.' It wasn't that hard a solution, especially as even the Warden flushed when telling the story, but I was still uneasy.

It was one thing to be bound and executed by fire, there was no choice. It was another to choose the fire of combat against Templars and Darkspawn. But to walk into the fire without any protections... I doubted protections would work as well or long enough for these flames.

I had seen too many images and accounts of Andraste's death to be as calm as I pretended. I could control my flame spells, but that didn't protect me from other mages, nor in the Circle from nightmares of being burnt as Templars celebrated.

A hand clasped around where I gripped my staff. I looked at Hawke, and she was silhouetted against the flames and mopped sweat out of her eyes. Her grip tightened, and her eyes encouraging.

Looking sideways at Sebastian, I couldn't restrain my smirk. “This one's pretty obvious. Modesty versus faith, Prince.”

“This is serious, not a matter for mirth.” He had flushed, even more than from the heat.

There was a long silence as their reluctance slowed their actions. Not Merrill as she nearly grinned at the dawdling of Hawke and Sebastian.

I looked over the flames at the stairway leading up to a platform. There was a statue up there too, but I couldn't see any detail with the heat of the flames making the air waver. The Warden had come here while I had been hiding and running from Rylock.

I'd never completely believed Attryne had seen the urn of Sacred Ashes, as some of her tales had seemed so impossible and she hadn't been very pious. Attryne'd mentioned seeing her father here and some 'damn puzzle bridge.'

I saw Irving today, which wasn't what I expected from the Warden's tale. I had hoped to see Karl as everything changed after I got his first letter at the Vigil. Maybe I wanted to see my own father and tell him what an ass he was to have done that to any child, let alone his son. Our challenges today were similar to what the Warden had told us, but so very different.

We were different people.

Hawke's hand finally let go of mine. “Well then, I guess that's what we have to do.” She turned a little and began to remove her armor.

Mine would be quicker with fewer straps, so I helped with hers after I'd removed my heavy coat. The heat was much more bearable without that and I gave her a quick hug partway. “It's just a shell, Love.”

Smiling ironically, she returned with a blush, “Yes, but I don't show off my shells to others. There's usually jerks who'll try to steal your shells.”

I couldn't say that I minded her stripping down. I made her shake her head when I showed off as I stripped, pretending I had some raucous music from the Rose.

Merrill, lovely as most elves were, and had her things neatly piled before Hawke and I were even halfway done.

Sebastian avoided looking at Merrill or Hawke, deciding that the mabari was the most fascinating creature on this side of the Fade. He stripped quickly and then his hands were very protective for a while. Vael then glowered at me as if this was my fault. He finally stopped when his eyes lit in wonder as he caught a glimpse of the stairway and platform.

Paws and Mew didn't need to strip.

Hawke marched forward into the flames. I had a moment of fear, but hurried after her before I could think any more about it.

It was hot. My skin almost sizzled from the flames, but I didn't smell my hair burning. The pain increased rapidly even as I stepped forward and the fire swallowed me up.

I had lost sight of Hawke in the flames and hurried forward, bumping into her as I exited the fire. Then I grabbed her into an embrace, my hope rising for the first time as I hiccuped my first few breaths.

We made it!

Attryne and the Warden Alistair had done this too, but they were different, nobles in every way. Hawke too, and she gripped me tightly. I looked over her head and saw that Sebastian and even Merrill had passed through the flames unscathed.

I had to smirk at Sebastian, despite my own doubts. He glared at me, probably annoyed that I hadn't burned.

The Guardian appeared behind us, standing within the flames. “You have passed through the trials of the Gauntlet, walked the path of Andraste, and like her you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrims, you may partake of a pinch if you wish to be healed.”

Hawke waved her hand and said with a smile, “I just wanted to help Anders get here.”

The Guardian nodded, perhaps in approval.

Merrill looked both tempted and curious. She glanced back the way we'd come. “Is this for anyone, or only for those who follow the Chantry?”

The Guardian said more carefully, “This is a thing for those who believe in Andraste and the Maker. If you are here you are worthy, but it will do little if you do not believe in Them.”

“I believe in working for my people and the Creators. Is your Maker another name for Elgarn'nan All-Father?” Merrill asked.

I had to smile at her innocent and somewhat blasphemous question here. Vael looked outraged.

The Guardian allowed, “I do not know either way, my task is to protect this place.”

Looking thoughtful, Merrill stilled.

Worried, Hawke asked, “Won't it run out?”

The Guardian smiled slightly and told her, “Andraste's legacy to us is the substance of faith and renewal, available to all seekers.You may approach the Ashes.”

With that, the wall of flames vanished as did the Guardian.

The chamber began to cool almost immediately, and Hawke and Sebastian seemed to almost be in a race to see who could dress and don armor first. I didn't hurry quite as much. Maybe hiding in the cold south wasn't that great an idea.

Then we moved to the foot of the wide stairway, and simply looked up to the platform. There was a feminine statue with flame in her outstretched hand. At her feet was a large, covered urn.

I hadn't completely believed that there was a real urn, but I could feel Vengeance shrinking away from it. I felt almost buoyant and had to smile.

Then I grabbed Hawke and swung her around, laughing with her. “It's real. There's a power here that isn't like any lyrium I've ever encountered!”

She glanced at Merrill. “I happen to like some more justice, not only for mages.”

He'd once been my somewhat stiff friend, a friend who had learned too much of darker emotions and been corrupted by mine. I hadn't wanted that for either of us. So close to the Urn, I felt as if I was only myself again, with him only shadows of rage and triumph that were barely attached to me. Vengeance was only rage now, barely focused on Templars. Justice missing. But here, here I could not lose control.

I'd seen comments on other spirits in my studies, helping mages from the Circle with even their Harrowings, like Valor and Temperance. Rarer were rumors of spirits like Charity, Fortitude, and Hope, but they were either not recorded fully or destroyed. I'd found no detailed references to them appearing in almost ten years of seeking. There were many of Rage, Pride, or Sloth, and we fought so many of those spirits, their partners and dupes too.

Justice? I called to the spirit who had been my friend as I held hands with Dera while climbing the stairs. I wanted whatever core of him that would return to the Fade to know that I wasn't giving up on the mage cause. I'll always want justice for my brother mages, and Dera is mad enough to want justice for everyone. I wish we could have been a purer partnership.

First, boiling out of me came a murderous anger at Hawke and Sebastian, of everyone in the land. I had little problem resisting that buffeting. Then came a trace of the stern and almost innocent Justice I once knew, and I called a farewell to him as we approached the altar.

It was like I was a thrumming lute string, and I felt more hope than in the last decade put together, hope that I would receive some kind of mercy, hope that Vengeance could be stopped.

There were many steps leading up, but Hawke and I reached the platform almost too quickly. Maybe I was stalling, not knowing what would happen in the next few minutes. Death, tranquility, and freedom for me, but I didn't want the destruction of Justice either.

Merrill and Sebastian reached the platform behind us and studied the statue and urn with very different expressions.

The nearly faceless statue, an almost abstract representation of a robed woman which was larger than life sized, unless people were that much taller centuries ago. The robes were draped differently than any clothing I had seen in life. She held flames in her hand, in a pose like what mages did to intimidate.

I looked at Sebastian, and decided I wouldn't mention that theory just now. He was gazing at the statue and Urn with silent awe. Paws was sniffing around the platform, and Ser Mew was rubbing Merrill's ankles.

Hawke asked, “Now what?” She looked worried, but she reluctantly stepped away, only letting go of my hand at the last instant.

Sebastian's attention came back to us and he growled, “Now he faces the Maker's judgment.” Even after he said this, he longingly glanced back at the Urn more than once.

He was still staring at it when I traded a smile with Hawke; I whistled a note or two without him reacting and then I pushed him a step forward.

“Keep your hands off me, you abomination!” Vael snarled at me.

Hawke reacted, sounding more than a little angry. “Do it, you ass! You wanted this probably as soon as you realized where we were going when you were hunting us. Be honest about it, at least. This is your faith, right? I'm satisfied with my choices for the most part. Maybe this will help you decide what is your real calling, Your Highness. Neither of the two you have pursued, faith or ruling, really seem to have your heart.”

Vael looked surprised, and looked back and forth between Hawke and I, “He should die for what he did.”

I'd agreed with that often enough, if I'd had my way in Kirkwall, Hawke would have killed me.

Justice stirred to ask him, “Is this justice or vengeance, prince? Law or blood? Or are you too hosting a spirit of vengeance?”

“What could the miracle of your prophet do to harm you?” Merrill asked cheerfully. “Is your faith that weak?”

“I will see him face the Maker's judgment first!” Sebastian declared, glaring at me. “What he did that day was wrong, not just.” He looked at Hawke and Merrill briefly and added, “The Knight-Commander was a threat, but he did not strike at her. Murderers are executed and it is your turn, abomination. May the Maker have mercy on your soul.”

I couldn't really argue with that; I had been well aware of it before anyone else. Vengeance stirred, probably angry at what he said, but I had little problem maintaining my control. I was sure that I would be struck down, if only for killing a Grand Cleric.

Forcing a smirk, I hoped it would be taken as bravery instead of bravado. “And here I thought passing those tests of my faith would make us bosom friends again.”

His glare at Merrill was his only reply. Hawke snorted, as I hoped she would.

But as I agreed with him in some ways, Hawke was more important right now. Humor gone, I controlled my voice to speak plainly. “I just want to speak to Dera.” I really couldn't go on like this, with my spirit unsatisfied even with my starting a war; I had to protect those innocent in my cause.

I called goodbye to Justice, and then kissed Dera. I had no more words for her now, and kissed her as if it was that first time in my clinic with my feelings for her boiling over, needing her too much to deny. I wanted it to be perfect for her, but I suspected this comforted me more.

We let each other go, reluctantly, as I stepped forward.

I lifted the lid on the Urn of Sacred Ashes; it was heavier than I expected, even with the precious metals and rubies making glittering flames around its base and bowl. When I looked inside, the Urn seemed still half full of what looked like ashes.

To my other senses, it was more like a different form of lyrium, so potent that I would burn if I touched it.

I looked back at the others. Hawke's expression hadn't changed, she was still worried and her eyes glistened. Sebastian still glared, maybe with a bit of ugly glee. Merrill had a look of intense concentration, her eyes filled with curiosity.

With a deep breath first, I took only a pinch, praying this would work and Dera would be fine. Vael wasn't as mad at her, and Merrill and Paws were here to help if...

I put the pinch of ash on my tongue and swallowed the gritty powder that burned everywhere it touched. It tasted like ash, but... that ever-present underlying sense of Justice had stilled, even as my knees wobbled and I sank to the ground before my head exploded.

Notes:

Chapter title adapted from a quote by John Adams.

Chapter 35: Battle's Beginning

Summary:

The Gauntlet has been passed, but now Anders and Hawke must confront a final opponent to win their freedom.

-- The Urn of Sacred Ashes

Hawke:

My throat was tight as Anders opened the Urn. I could see that Merrill was watching with interest and Sebastian was watching with a less generous opinion. I hoped and prayed that this would help Anders. I wasn't as sure if Andraste or the Maker were present or they would grant him mercy and healing as I hoped.

I was afraid that he would simply die, that paying with his life was the only... justice for what he'd done.

That would also mean that I was wrong to think that the cruel treatment of mages over the ages was a “provocation” and at some point defense, escape, and suffering had to end. I would not have chosen destroying the Chantry of Kirkwall as he did, there were too many innocents. This also gave the Chantry so many fresh martyrs, erasing the mage martyrs from the Gallows. But I understood his frustration at trying for so long for even small changes when none were granted. At some point change had to come and their unwillingness to treat mages as humans had to be exposed.

If Anders was to be damned for wanting a better world, I would be damned too.

Maybe I just selfishly didn't want to lose him.

Anders looked at me after he had seen inside the Urn: fear, hope and farewell in his eyes. Then he took a pinch and ate it.

He reacted to it immediately, falling back with his body jerking like he was hit by lightning. Then he collapsed like a corpse and was still.

Dropping down beside him, I shouted his name even as his head rolled to the side. I couldn't see any breathing.

Sebastian had begun speaking. “...wicked hearts on blacken'd wings does deceit take flight, the First of My children, lost to night.”

I swung around, expecting him to be smug or triumphant, but his face had more sorrow than I ever expected.

“He gave himself to the Maker's judgment. That was what I demanded, Hawke.” Sebastian stated without emotion.

Still angry because he was part of what drove Anders to what he did, I taunted him. “Shouldn't you give yourself too? You hired an assassin to hunt the murderers of your family, and then the ones who ordered it. What kind of faith is that? You are willing to raze an entire city of innocents to get at us. How many would have died if we stayed in our homes? They would have been defending their city from your conquering Starkhaven army. Do you even know how many live in Kirkwall, or how many children would have lost their parents in that battle?

“You wanted to see the Urn, how free of sin and error do you think you are?” I didn't think he was superior to Anders in any way, he was just luckier in birth.

“Hawke!” Merrill interrupted the growing argument. “He's still breathing.”

Ignoring Sebastian, I turned back to Anders. I'd been sure he'd died, especially when my shouting at Sebastian caused no response. I looked at him and after what seemed forever, saw the shallowest of breaths. “Anders, love, please come back...”

There was no reaction. My next panicked thought was that he was Tranquil now, and would wake as they must have after having their souls castrated from the Fade and whatever is beyond it.

A hand gripped my shoulder and I looked up at Merrill.

She said gently, “Aldera, he lives. That cup is powerful and I believe he has left himself. He looks like he did when the Keeper sent you and Isabela to find the somniari in the Fade.”

That didn't make me feel any better, as Marethari was gone and Merrill couldn't explain much then.

“So we can't just wake him, can we?” I asked with growing dread.

Merrill shook her head. “No, not if his mind is still in there. I'm sorry, the Keeper had not taught me much of what little had survived of that lore. I think these ashes have sent Anders into the Beyond.”

Hope grabbed my voice. “Can I go after him if I use the Ashes? We helped Feynriel get free of those demons before.”

“It will not be that simple, lethallan. Anders walks the paths of the Fade without the guidance of the Creator, Falon'Din. He is already part of the Fade, as a mage and because of his spirit. The Keeper's ceremony was akin to a hunter locating the injured fawn by its cries.” Merrill looked at the Urn. “A mage has some level of control in the Fade, and you could never locate him on your own, not even if you were a mage.”

“Can you help me, Merrill?” I brushed one of Anders' tiny braids off his face. It had been days before Marethari had located me for the boy's rescue, and I'd always suspected that they had tried Feynriel's mother first.

She looked worried. “I know the principles, but I do not know all, nor do I have the materials. I heard her prayers to Falon'Din that day as she cast that ceremony for each of you. I can attempt to do what I remember, but I will not be able to accompany you.”

I worried a little at that, aside from even my fear for Anders. Merrill had become a bedrock of my life, in many ways like Bethany.

“The apostate still lives.” Sebastian didn't sound like he believed what he was saying.

How he reconciled his expectations with the fact that Anders still lived, wasn't really my problem right now. Well, it was because I didn't want him deciding that Anders still deserved to die. The truce-oath might be considered over now.

That is the loophole I should have seen, and he had helped us get here.

“Yes. It looks like he has been trapped like the boy, Feynriel,” I said carefully. Merrill and I could protect Anders' body, but I was not sure Merrill could protect both Anders and I, and do her ceremony. I'd never seen any clear sign that he dreamed as he slept, and he was so still now.

“Trapped, or facing judgment as he should?” Sebastian asked doubtfully. “The Maker's mercy may be that he never returns.”

“We cannot know when we are outside the Beyond. It is a dangerous place for us to travel, even in our dreams every night,” Merrill said gravely.

Crossing his arms, Sebastian told us, “Then I will go. Judgment will not be denied.”

I exchanged glances with Merrill, this way the danger should always have two of us to watch over, I hoped.

Merrill said to Sebastian, “If you believe that this may be the judgment of your prophet, perhaps you should.”

That prodded him and he angrily marched to the altar. More carefully he took a pinch and seemed to pray before he ate it.

Dropping down as Merrill began to chant, he looked around dazedly for a moment, before he fell back unconscious as well.

I hadn't expected Sebastian to do that so quickly and listened in shock as Merrill finished the chant. I wasn't sure if it was a spell or Dalish prayer.

Apologetically, she told me, “I do not know if I began the ceremony quickly enough to be effective. He may merely wander until he wakes.”

I had to smile despite my worry. The Fade was very different entering it like this than in my dreams. We arranged them on the platform, with Paws nosing both of the men. Ser Mew batted Anders' nose before curling up with a discontented noise on his chest.

“How much time do you need before I go?” I asked her. I could barely see Anders' chest moving.

She pulled a salve from a pouch and rubbed some on three places across my forehead, with the middle being the last. “You may start now, Hawke.”

I looked into the Urn, and it looked like any ash after a funeral, like Mother's and Father's. Maybe I expected it to glow, but it looked so normal. I took a pinch, and settled to sit on the floor with my back to the altar.

A wind blew through me and I looked at Merrill as she grew more watery and dissolved into the green denseness of a swampy forest. I was standing in among trees that were made for spooky stories by the fire, of ghosts and haunts and rattling trees that were the scariest things I knew of when I was a child in the years before the Blight. Now, skeletons and liches weren't even on the list.

When I checked, I had my weapons and armor, even if I wasn't quite sure if my feet were touching the green and fuzzy ground. With no idea of which way to go to find Anders, I picked a direction and walked. The forest seemed to be bare of life, as I didn't see any birds or even insects of any kind at first, but as I walked I realized I saw a rabbit and I could hear... something else. The sound was like the buzz of insects on a hot summer day, but it shifted as I walked. I heard a bit of a chant and then the buzz became a distant roar.

I watched around me, wondering which were harmless and which were demons and spirits. This forest path seemed safe enough, even as I fingered my Bassrath-Kata. I hurried my pace. I had to find Anders.

A voice off the gloomy path told me, “You may not want to find that battlefield, Champion.”

Remembering the demons in the false halls of the Fade Gallows, I slowed. “Who are you?”

“Merely one of the spirits here, not what your kind calls demons.” She was wearing fine and glowing clothing, and her skin shone in the mossy light of the forest. “I have a gift for you, to help you with the field ahead of you.”

Remembering the threats and bargains offered my last visit. I wondered, “Why would you do that?”

She smiled, and spread her arms wide, she appeared almost transparent for an instant. “It is my nature. I am Charity, and gifts benefit both the recipient and the giver. I give you knowledge, it will help you with the curse you have labored against.”

“Curse? What curse?” I wondered what she was talking about. Curses didn't exist.

“That is possibly the simplest thing to call it for one who cannot move freely here.” She sounded apologetic. “Spirits are not supposed to be cut off from their home. Some are seduced by darker exemplars who visit, but they can return as easily as your people travel here in their sleep.”

I didn't quite understand what she was talking about. “So Justice is cursed, or Anders?”

“They both are, now, but the spirit you know, nearly starved from the curse before they merged”

So this was from something done to Justice. I wanted to know how to end it for Anders, hopefully short of his death. “How can this curse be ended?”

“The curse's embodiment can be destroyed here but that won't truly end the spirit. The spirit that gave power to the Baroness' curse approves of the destruction in its wake. Its attention was elsewhere, but it enjoys its pawns too much to allow their freedom.” She looked briefly down the path.

The roaring got louder and a pillar of scarlet and blue flame could barely be seen in the distance.

“Thanks for the help, Charity. I have to go.” I started running down the path, hoping they were close. Destroy somebody, I could do that.

The run through the forest seemed endless and the plants and trees became less... wholesome as I ran. It didn't look like the leafless barrenness of a forest or swampy woods in winter before the snows blanketed it.

It looked dead, like the smell of dead and rotting flesh on top of swampy muck. The smell was faint, and I tried to ignore it. The path opened up a little, into a village that was only ruins of barns and houses. I stopped for a moment, but no spirits were there that I could see, just a huge fallen gate where there was really no wall anymore. I ran on, worrying at how long it was taking me to find them.

After I passed the gate, the path ended, opening out into the courtyard of a huge mansion. I stopped.

Anders was in the middle of a cage made of the glowing light and a pillar of light that kept roaring. It roared so loudly, I wasn't sure if those were words.

I moved over to him, keeping the cage between myself and that pillar, hoping to not be noticed.

He looked irritated and waved a hand away from himself. “Begone, spirit. It's not even amusing the fifth time.”

-- x x --

Anders:

I wasn't dead.

At least I didn't think so; did I die, spattering the Urn with my brains? I didn't even think that might happen to Hawke, my dying in a mess from the Ashes.

I was surprised to have woken in the Fade, though I shouldn't have been. I would pass through here to the Maker's side or Void when I died. This was the first time since the rescue of Feynriel that I remembered being here, even if Justice had been active at the time. This time it wasn't like the faux Gallows that the boy and I feared, but Blackmarsh, where a village had been trapped in the Fade even after their deaths. It seemed fitting to come here, this was where I met Justice.

When I looked around me, I could see the mansion where the Baroness could look over her victims. The gate that Justice had broken wasn't far away, and I remember wondering if he had a face under that armor.

Did you have a face then?

There was no answer.

While I wanted to be free of Vengeance, it was very strange to be alone in my head again. Appearing in front of the mansion entrance was a glowing figure that didn't quite resemble Justice when I met him, even at this distance.

“You have abandoned the cause of mages, weakened and allowed your own death!”

He came closer and looked like me in my black robes now, but glowing from within like when I'd met Justice first. His words struck at guilt, as if anything was as important as freeing my brothers and sisters. I had done nothing for our cause since Kirkwall and I could not defend my inaction.

“The death of any innocents deserves justice!”

That came from behind me and I turned. There was a knight in plain, glowing armor, looking like Justice at the Vigil. They both sounded like Justice had sounded for so many months.

“None are innocent when the murders repeat generation after generation. They learn nothing. Today's Divine was yesterday's child. They are all guilty of killing and erasing mages as if they held no value!”

“No, the child cannot be justly condemned. Justice is fair!”

My head turned back and forth, hearing the same arguments that had before only been inside my head. First one and then the other, back and forth that made me think that Justice had ranted insanely. Had there been two before this? Was that possible?

“Justice is slow and weak; you cannot stop the murderers like Vengeance can. Destruction ends their killing permanently.”

The other spirit began to glow and grow. “Vengeance is careless and makes only more reasons for Vengeance.”

I didn't like that glow, and wondered if I could sneak away from both of them and wake up with Hawke. I started backing away.

A cage appeared around me, like my own spell except that I wasn't being crushed. The bars had spikes all along them, meaning I'd cut myself if I tried to break them. They returned to their argument, getting larger and less understandable in their shouting, the longer I was here.

I couldn't affect the cage and their shouting rang through my mind. I saw Hawke coming toward me, with a wary eye on the spirits.

I was overjoyed that I might get away with her and leave them here, she could deal with a lock easily from the outside.

But then a roar came from the giants, and she was engulfed in flames. My shout and attempt to heal her did nothing. I sank to my knees, sobbing, until I saw her coming my way again, this time with that sword to act as a pry bar. She didn't use it though and I realized that she wore a version of Templar armor and she laughed at me before she disappeared.

Days passed until the next spirit pretending to be Hawke appeared.

I hoped it wasn't many days, my body would die if I was trapped here. Maybe I already had died.

Hawke would want to find me, but the ground rocked with the spirits' fight and she'd be safer if she thought the Ashes killed me.

This Hawke hurried over, a light of happiness in her eyes as she examined may cage. “I can bring you Hope...”

I wanted to believe, I really did, but her voice was wrong and so I looked at this spirit more closely. “Please, spirit. Thank you, but I'd rather you not look like Hawke.”

She looked at me directly, her eyes now a brilliant Fade-blue instead of Hawke's own green. “I am not powerful enough to affect this against his will. He burns to harm all in his way, even here, even you.”

Now I had hope, hope that we would be trapped, keeping Vengeance here in the Fade. “Thank you. You should go.”

She faded, and the other spirits became a light that was almost blinding. I watched them, and the light seemed to be getting redder, which made me uneasy. Red lyrium, like what Varric's brother stole, had this glow. A carmine like blood, and blood magic. The blue was dissolving into the redder light, or the redder was losing its blue seeming.

By this point I was resigned to dying here in the Fade after the weeks I had been here.

Another Hawke came, watching the spirits like the others had. Maybe other spirits still thought me more interesting than most. Its appearance as Hawke felt like a knife and I asked it to leave me.

“Shut up, Anders. I don't know how long Merrill's ceremony will work, she never finished her training...” Hawke sounded irritated. “She's doing some prayer right now. I figured it can't hurt.”

There couldn't be a spirit of irritation, so I reached through the bars and we gripped hands, our fingers interlacing. I could feel the life flowing through her veins. “I'm still alive? Chantry-boy hasn't finished me off?”

“No, he passed out after taking a pinch too. Merrill's guarding us like the Keeper did before.” With one more squeeze, she let go of me and examined the cage. She muttered something and began prying at the lock.

I wished I could help, and thought I saw a Varric and a Warden Commander come out of the mists, but they weren't truly here. Hawke was, and I could not resist some kind of contact as she worked, placing my hand in her hair that was once more in the neat bun she'd worn for years. She looked up for a moment, but after that she hammered the dagger point at some hinge and a section of the cage made a clanging noise that was seconds late in coming and before it dissolved back into the Fade.

Lunging out of the cage, I nearly squeezed Hawke against me. It felt like days and days since I'd seen her.

Her hug was fierce too, but she pulled away a little before she turned back to the spirits. “Justice, think. Why couldn't you return to the Fade after Blackmarsh?”

The shouting paused, and the spirit shrank a little becoming armored again in a familiar black. “The Baroness forced the mortals outside where they belonged: the Commander, the dwarf, the archer, and the mage.” Justice sounded almost puzzled as he tried to understand something.

I wanted to smile a little, I was back to being 'the mage' again. He'd been frustrated by my interest in the finer things in life.

“They did nothing to truly free the mages, despite their more favored place in that land. That ruler refused to let the Chantry and Circles be crushed as they deserve.” The other spirit was still mostly a column of Fade energy, a dark and bloody red instead of seeming blue plate. Vengeance was still larger than us.

“Kinloch improved.” I couldn't believe I was defending a Circle for anything. “They didn't try to keep me after my lectures and there were very few Templars there.”

“Your freedom means nothing when they kill and harrow so many mages. They declare their Chant, and merit death. They cause death and pain, and they merit death. They stand by and do nothing, and merit death...” He sounded almost like Justice.

Maybe Hawke was bored but her attention was on Justice, who now looked more like he had at the Vigil. “You were stuck there, right? She wanted you stuck there, why hasn’t that ended? This is where spirits are supposed to be. Her spell to keep you should have ended, right? Why didn't it?”

Both Justice and Vengeance lost definition briefly. The area of the Fade we were in, wavered briefly, and the ground shook.

“The Baroness was a blood mage, linked to a powerful demon who cannot be truly destroyed there. She wanted revenge on Justice and exiled him, but it never ended.” I had the pieces for years, but was distracted by other things and thinking I was the main source of his change.

I looked at Vengeance. “You are her pawn, still tied to a petty woman's petty revenge.”

Vengeance laughed for the very first time in my hearing, sounding like the roaring of a forge and crackling of a hundred fireballs. “No, mortal. She dealt with many like me but her desire for vengeance on one of the mewling spirits was too delicious a task to turn down when she offered it. Corrupting him was amusing and you both came to agree with so many of my suggestions and bits of knowledge and lore. All I had to do was feed you more energy from the Fade when I whispered through the spirit and you were convinced that you were righteous and just. If we had stayed in that city, they too, would have used the blood. Mortals so easily are persuaded that their cause will excuse any action of blood and vengeance...”

That was almost like a fist slamming into my stomach like some Templar's smite. I.. we might have done that. That was part of why I tried so very hard to not let Vengeance out, things like that bloodbath in Halamshiral.

The demon cast a glance off to the side. “Whispering to other mortals of the sweetness of revenge on a brother's betrayal or avenging a willing martyr, even as the mage and the weak spirit wallowed in guilt for what I caused, those were fine diversions. Kirkwall was a never-ending feast of revenge for one such as I... So many want vengeance in return and I will continue to grow in power...”

The glow and echo in his voice was far too familiar to me and I worried what that meant to my magic if I had to fight here. Then I realized that I had barely any magic and this was moving towards combat with the weight of a cave-in down in the Deep Roads.

-- x x --

Hawke:

The pieces of Anders were in a confrontation, and it looked like Vengeance was the most powerful piece. He didn't look like the ugliness of pride or sloth demons, more like the enraged Warden I loved, with some of the cleverness in manipulation of a desire demon or power of a pride one.

Did that reflect that I was proud of him and desired him?

Anders seemed horrified. Justice showed little reaction either, but they were so quiet without outrage or snarky comments from them that I was afraid they were being controlled.

Vengeance admitted to feeding on the vengeful in Kirkwall in a voice that sounded too like Anders' had at times. Reasonable and passionate, he used the same voice that lulled me to sleep so many times.

I had to look at Anders to be sure he wasn't speaking.

He wasn't.

A strangled cry came from behind us and arrows flew past me. Sebastian was at the edge of the Blackmarsh clearing around the mansion, his armor a great contrast against the dim and green swampland, almost a beacon in this dark corner of the Fade.

Vengeance roared again. Other spirits... no, they were demons of rage and pride emerged into the clearing from the ground or maybe even the air of the Fade.

I moved forward, trying to decide what would hurt a Vengeance demon. There were no camp or inn tales about those demons and how best to defeat them. Nor could I ask my expert on demons who was the most help against other demons, because of Justice.. Vengeance.. whatever.

Anders hadn't moved during my first attack. Justice hadn't either, though he now had a great sword that seemed to go with his armor. They seemed frozen, even quivering with wanting to move.

Vengeance was moving closer though with a nasty smile. I couldn't like that Vengeance was glowing red like that damned lyrium, but now the red was like blood, beginning to seep out onto his skin like some damned blood mage. What had he done to them?

Seeing something that looked like my love like that, made me feel as if I had failed.

Sebastian was attacking the lesser demons when Anders started a shout that didn't end. Then his skin burst out with blood before he sank to his knees with a moan

I wanted to go to over Anders, but Vengeance attacked me using spell after spell, casting much too quickly fire and unknown spells. I had to fight him now.

Anders stood now with a horrible laugh, with blood dripping from his carmine teeth and blood swirled up around him as he cast a cold spell on Sebastian.

My heart burnt to a cinder. I was too late.. too late...

Sebastian attacked Vengeance, calling to the Maker. Turning back to Anders, he was back on his knees virtually clean of any blood but very minor injuries. Something wasn't right, but I didn't know enough to identify what magic had been done.

Trying to see what really was happening, I saw Sebastian was being attacked with an ice spell by Vengeance, but avoided it by some trickery so the demon missed.

Justice charged forward, but his attacks were avoided easily by the larger spirit. Or disturbingly, they were just plain ignored.

I heard Anders chanting again, as I was nearly frozen solid by an ice spell from Vengeance. Nothing happened from Anders' spell. Swearing, he swung his staff at one of the lesser demons as it attacked him, stabbing it with the end of his staff.

Another blast of heat from one of the other demons spread enough to free me, I breathed clear air for an instant before killing it.

Vengeance laughed, his voice here sounding like Anders, but an Anders that was glorying in the power and pain he was causing. He taunted, “Never mess with a mage!”  When Anders swore, Vengeance turned the dagger and said, “I was imprisoned with your bindings on me for years, limiting me to only whispers to the foolish and grieving near you. I don't need the blood mage's command now, you merit death for that prison alone.”

I was distracted by the near wailing from both Anders and Justice on hearing this, and was caught in a cage that began to shrink in on me as it felt like my blood boiled.

-- x x --

Anders:

Inside the Fade, and somehow I could only draw a trickle of energy. That hadn't happened that last time I was in the Fade with the Warden. I could use my staff as a weapon and my weaker spells on the other demons, not on Vengeance.

He taunted me with my own battle cry, and I'd never hated those words before. He was messing with me even here in the Fade. I had thought that it would be almost just if I died, maybe the cycle would end. But I quickly saw how much worse he would be if he was freed.

Hawke cried, piercing me when I saw she was trapped as I had been and her cage began to shrink. I started to run over to her but then my blood felt like it was alive, moving independently in my veins; my thoughts kept moving in little circles, as I tryed to understand. This was wrong, Vengeance had been using spells I used, before... This was what Velanna used on us; Vengeance was a... blood mage?

Unable to move for a moment, I saw that Justice was frozen in ice. Vengeance had learned so much magic and I cast an earth fist at him.

Vines like Merrill's gagged me after I healed Dera, and I couldn't move at all. That I had no trouble breathing and now faced the battle, said Vengeance had something planned.

Hawke smiled weakly at me before trying to lever her Qunari blade against the bars of her cage. But the bars were too close for her to do that, she was near the sometimes fatal end of that spell.

Vengeance was speaking so quietly that I missed it, and he sounded like Sebastian now. “...He denies the Maker and Andraste in his pride and power, this Kirkwall Magister. He is proud of his destruction. Burning the Grand Cleric, without even the mercy of the sword or the Rites, his burn obliterated her so that you could not mourn her. He has controlled slaves for his convenience and corrupted nobles like the merchant lord and Champion to protect him from the justice of the Tem...”

The Starkhaven prince had stopped attacking, his bow held loosely and facing the ground of the Fade. He had turned toward me, but I couldn't argue as the vines gagged me even as I tried to burn them.

“No!” shouted Hawke, with the cage now gone. “If he was that callous and evil, he would not have allowed himself to be beaten nearly to death nor decapitated after Kirkwall. He deserves a second chance as he suffered provocation his entire life. Who in Thedas speaks for the mages who suffer? Andraste pleaded for mercy from the Maker for all of us. Anders is not a Magister with armies and riches and slaves. He healed those forgotten by Hightown in Darktown, asking noth...” Hawke leaped over some vines near one of the drooping trees, trying to get close enough to stop him, but she was being herded and nearly cornered.

Justice was moving forward again, scything through the vegetation that was slowing him as ice rimed the vines and his armor.

I tried to cast a fire spell on the vines holding Hawke, and my only consolation was that we were taxing Vengeance's concentration.

Vengeance was unhurt and getting angry, he didn't bother to speak except to Vael in whispers.

Justice shook his head after a blast and stood upright again, pointing his blade at Vengeance and glowing more brightly again. “Foul demon! You have severed me from the Fade, and made me forget myself! But I will not bow to your whispers again.”

The ground shook and rose up to try to engulf Justice as he sliced downward with a shout I hadn't heard in... how long?

When that wave reached me a memory of the true Blackmarsh was renewed. He'd used Templar skills, then taught by the Warden's friend in Blackmarsh and Amaranthine, skills that had always made me uneasy for too many reasons. How much of my memory had Vengeance erased?

Hawke cried her anger, her one arm bound against her and she couldn't move. My magic was dead for the moment and I still couldn't even move enough to pull out a lyrium potion.

Vengeance was still speaking to Sebastian, who ignored the rest of us.

Wishing for even a dog's help, I prayed and called for small Fade spirits even if I doubted any were near enough or would listen to me anymore. A pack of mabaris, most looking like Paws or Mouser, swarmed over Vengeance for a matter of seconds.

Hawke was desperately trying to get free, and she'd be unable to fight if she drew Vengeance's magic again. That was only a matter of time, and I had to get free enough to use whatever magic I had.

In that time, Justice changed direction and was almost to where I was trapped. He began slicing through the vines, freeing first one arm and stepped to my other side. I grabbed a potion and raised it to my lips.

“Mage,” Justice grated as he sliced what bound me. “We have little time but we must choose...”

-- x x --

Hawke:

“No, don't!” I shouted. My left arm, anchored as Vengeance wanted, just so he could force us to watch his victory, was bleeding in several places from where I'd cut myself free yet again. I yanked free of the loosening vines and tried to rush toward Sebastian, but he was too far away.

Anders had his arm upraised with a vial and no protective magics or even vines to protect his chest. It was an easy shot, one I would have no problem with, an instant kill any assassin could get rich from.

Sebastian was drawing his bow, aiming at Anders for that shot. “Andrast...”

I shouted. “You dumbass! He chose mercy for you!”

“...ste, guide me!” the archer finished, not even breathing as he concentrated. He took one more breath and then his eyes narrowed as he turned just enough to shoot Vengeance.

Panting and maybe sobbing, I slashed at the last vine looping me back to the tree.

Anders was glowing again and standing alone by himself. I was so glad to hear his voice beginning to chant a spell again.

Vengeance summoned more demons, but they were weaker and we destroyed them quickly now between the three of us. Vengeance was more difficult, he used more spells than Anders had, but soon he stopped moving and seemed as dead as anything seemed here.

Anders stood over him gravely and said, “He is not truly destroyed here, but he will take time to reform. Without the Baroness, he will be weak for years, maybe generations.”

Suddenly, I had to wipe my eyes with my palms.

I had hoped, truly hoped, it would be a permanent split and Anders would be free. I failed.

“You are still responsible for those things you agreed to.” Sebastian told them.

Anders nodded, his eyes had that same electric blue in the depths last seen when we'd rescued Feynriel. “We have never denied that. You must wake and leave here before others take notice.”

I wanted away from here. We'd won over Vengeance but I'd lost too, and all I wanted to do was to cry. I concentrated on the chill of the stone in the hall and the feel of Paws' fur...

Taking a breath, I ached from all my injuries that hadn't really happened. Paws noticed and came over to lick my face. The grit from the Ashes was still in my mouth and I reached for some water. From my sitting position I could see that they hadn't really started to stir yet.

“Hawke, what happened in the Beyond?” Merrill asked, her voice rough from the chanting she'd just ended.

“Justice and Vengeance were separated from Anders. Vengeance was defeated. Vengeance was part of a curse on Justice, I think.” I yawned, as I was exhausted.

Merrill hummed and gathered her supplies.

I bent over, and put my arms around my knees to weep. My hair was long enough that it loosely fell around my face; my new hair tie had been lost. That was fine. Anders no longer controlled his own body again. Even with Vengeance gone, Justice remained... and it was a bitter victory.

When I woke again I was lying alongside Anders, his arms wrapped around me.

I eased away and sat up, feeling a little better.

Anders mumbled something and pulled me back down for a kiss. “We survived, Love. It's only the two of us in here.”

“Does that mean you will give up your war?” Sebastian interrupted with disapproval.

“Sometimes,” Anders sat up and said with a grin and an arm around me.

Doubtful, Vael demanded, “And will your spirit accept council from others, or will he become a demon himself?”

“I am not a demon, but I have learned that the mage cause is just. Innocents should not be punished along with the guilty, something I had forgotten, as you have, Prince.” Justice did not remove Anders' arm from around me, and actually ran a hand along my bottom.

Anders' face was still the stern mask of Justice, so I wasn't sure what that meant.

“Yet you murdered innocents.”  Sebastian spoke with little mercy.

“We will have to do better, and try to make up for that as much as we can,” Anders admitted. “That we messed up, doesn't mean that the abuse of my fellow mages who are innocent is just. Who makes reparations for sundered families, innocents and children abused and threatened by the Templars and merciless?”

Looking troubled, Sebastian admitted, “Mercy is one of the hardest lessons of the Chant. I shall consider that.”

It looked like Sebastian wasn't going to immediately try to kill us again, so I got up so we could return to the shrine. Merrill stirred as well.

There was a doorway from the Urn hall that led back to the hall where we met the Guardian. When we passed through the last door on that path, the door seemed to merge seamlessly into the rock. I was fascinated to see that there wasn't even the slightest difference in the sound of the door compared to the wall. My dagger could not even find enough of the crack to work on it.

A cough from Sebastian, and he commented, “Perhaps you should leave the Shrine intact, Hawke.”

I could feel my flush. “Sorry, I just wanted to see how it worked.”

“I can see that, Hawke. Leave this to the Guardian and the other protectors if you would.” Sebastian had a faint smile, even if the words were disapproving.

Wiping the bit of stone dust off the Bassrath-Kata, I put it away again. The trip through the night outside and the dragon hatchery didn't take long, we soon were back at the entrance to the pilgrim shrine. With the sisters and brothers mostly asleep, I asked Paws to lead us to Ormonde. He was in private quarters, and asleep.

Sebastian woke him.

We reported the death of a high dragon and Anders pointed out, “The rotting carcass will cause illness when the weather warms, so you might keep those you suspect busy with dispersal until you can get assistance.”

Ormonde looked at him suspiciously. “Thank you, I would not expect that from you.”

“Events are rarely as simple as rumor and official reports cover. The book telling about the Warden's visit here during the Blight is quite inaccurate as well.” There was only a slight blue flash as Anders spoke.

Sebastian and the Templar began to talk Chantry business, and Anders and I leaned against each other with our heads touching. I might get used to just Justice. Merrill stood there, fidgeting a little.

Stifling a yawn, Ormonde said, “I'm sorry, you have fulfilled more than I hoped, let us get that book for you after you rest.”

That seemed like a good idea as that nap hadn't been enough. So we returned to where we'd slept the other night, including my cuddling close to my mage to sleep on a bunk.

When I woke, I was less content after I found a letter from Anders. It sounded like he was about to leave as soon as Sebastian left, and he wished me well. I had to hide my tears, using cold water in the Sister's washroom before the others woke.

After that we ate and donned our lesser, disguised armor so to avoid fights again. We had collected our things left behind including Celebrant, and Merrill got her book from the Mother. We departed by early-afternoon from the outer shrine, I wondered which of the remaining Sisters and Brothers were in the dragon cult.

We made a camp before the early sunset, and I asked while trying to hide my worry, “What now?”

“I must admit I am not pleased that Anders yet lives, but he has faced the Maker's judgment. I have no right to supersede that. I grant only a stay for the mage then, as my oath has ended. Do not think that I will not track him down if he becomes a demon-like menace again.” Sebastian's voice was calm, despite his threat.

I had to sigh. “I'm sorry about your grief, Sebastian, I always understood that.” I stopped before I started another fight because the Grand Cleric became the wrong person for Kirkwall.

The prince looked up at the stars. “I think I need to travel and see what Thedas and the Free Marches are like on my own, and to learn how to do some of the Maker's work... for all his children. I could not hear the Grand Cleric's wisdom when she spoke it.”

“What about your wee one?” Merrill asked him.

“I will return to my family and home presently, but there is more than one way to serve Andraste and Her causes, which were for all, not just her tribe.” Sebastian sounded more content.

I wasn't sure what would happen from that, but it sounded better than his raising an army against the mages. “What will you say about us?”

Sebastian frowned. “I will not lie, so I will give limited truths only if pressed or if I hear of new horrors. You have willingly faced his judgment for yourself or for another.”

“What about battle?” Anders asked.

“The Templars have lost their way, and I will pray with them. Leave the Chantry be, as twisting the Chant into cruelty by Templars is also wrong. Andraste fought the Magisters' oppression but did not tell us to return the same.” Vael seemed uneasy to be saying this non-answer.

Still, Anders smiled slightly. “We will help and protect mages, not the ones who oppress either. Few Sisters harm them... I won't promise not to write rude demands on the walls, though.”

“Paint can be cleaned, no one is harmed.” Sebastian paused, seeming to have trouble speaking for a moment, but finally said, “Hawke, I lied earlier, and I am ashamed that I did not speak the truth; I do trust you and your intentions, even with all that happened. I fear that your intentions may be compromised by your goodwill to those who are not worthy, but I will have to pray until I understand what was revealed here.”

I could only blink at that for a moment, as I never expected that. In complete charity with that coming headache, I leapt forward to hug the prince with my throat tight. “I hope you find kin, we're about the only ones who had them as long as we did.”

Arms sliding around me, Sebastian returned the hug briefly, saying in a choked voice, “We did, didn't we?” He stepped back and spoke carefully with a raised hand. “Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written.”

I was glad Anders stayed quiet.

“Merrill?” I didn't like saying goodbye to her, too, but she had her own quests.

I didn't. Where could I go now? Maybe Lothering, to come full circle: I left with my mother, sister, and brother, and would return to my father's memorial with only my mabari.

She smiled easily. “I have the lore I needed for the Keeper's demand: legends, magecraft, and even language. We will again be more of what we lost.” Holding the Dalish language book, she added a little sadly, “I wish to return to Sabrae and plant a tree for Tamlen as well.”

While I worried about her use of blood magic, she still served others with goodwill not malice. “I'll miss you, Merrill.” I didn't want to start weeping so I added with a grin, “I'm not sure I have the hair dye down yet.”

That got me a tiny glare from Sebastian, but after our interactions with Ormonde he couldn't say we were unrelenting menaces to those of the Chantry.

She laughed. “Hawke, I'm not sure that will matter for long. The Dark Wolf and change follow you, wherever you go. Will you flee or embrace it?”

“I flee angry people with sharp and pointy things when I can.” I glanced at Anders and Sebastian for an instant. “Change only happens when people are are able to see the need and are ready for it.”

Anders smiled briefly and nodded.

After that, we pooled what alcohol we had and drank it, talking about Kirkwall and nicer things that had happened there before we settled for the night. In the morning I dawdled in packing up our things. The sky threatened snow in the near future, and I was going to let the other two outpace us.

Anders looked at me once we'd said farewell to the others, his eyes crinkled with worry. “Hawke... Dera. You have been too quiet, what's wrong? We don't have to worry about any more armies from him and it's just us and our pets now.”

“I found your farewell letter, how long do I have left?” I had trouble getting the words out.

“What?” Shock colored his face for a moment. “No, Hawke. No! Until my Calling, like I said in the shrine. That letter was in case I did not survive. Justice has agreed that we are like Kristoff and Aura. I can be a mage, lover, and even a Gray Warden sometimes.”

That was an improvement, but I had hoped so much...

Taking my hand, Anders seemed to struggle to find something to say. “Love, I'm sorry that I can't be yours alone. We cannot be separated, my magic and his spirit are too intertwined now, that was why we became so helpless in the Fade after the Ashes cleaved us. I want you to be happy, but this respite from the war with the Templars and Chantry cannot last lorever. I will need to rejoin that in some way, over and over, until we are all free.” He looked down. “I... we... he. Even if some things will be better, I know you would be more sane to leave us for a normal life with marriage and family. Please stay with us anyway.”

Happily brushing his stubble before kissing him, I didn't bother saying it. He'd been warning me for years now, no one could honestly say that he hadn't. Anders' arms swept around me as I ran my fingers through his braids and he kissed me hard enough that my breath got faint and neck sore from his attentions.

Now I was clinging because I wasn't sure my legs would support me. “Anders? Anders,” I managed to gasp while I looked at him.

At first all I got was a distracted hum, but then he lifted his head from my neck and was panting as much as I. “Yes, Love?”

I wanted to tease him a little. “Am I going to hear that letter you wrote me in bits and pieces over the next few months? I wasn't entirely sure when you intended me to read it, after the Ashes or if you left after then...” I couldn't prevent myself from sounding a little forlorn as I said that.

“No, Hawke, not that.” His eyes flashed with the blue lightning before becoming brown again. “I guess it wasn't one of my better pieces of writing.”

I had to shake my head and smile. “No, it wasn't clear. What does Justice remaining mean for us?”

“He... I was fond of Kristoff's wife. That did not prevent his service unto his death, so I have no reason to think Anders is any different.” Justice was simply explaining and not angry at all.

“So you won't interfere now?” I found my hope was rising again.

A stiff smile crossed Anders' face. “No. We are one.”

His embrace shifted lower to lift me up, fingers finding the edges of my armor, making me chirp as he used a touch of magic.

I couldn't believe he.. they did that. “Ohh, who should I be smacking for that?”

Anders' eyes became brown again as he smirked and repeated Justice's words.

This time when I could breathe again, I boxed their ears.

“What was that for?” Anders asked after a moment.

“For not actually answering my question and being a sneak. Justice really doesn't need to learn that.” I was partly annoyed that rebuttals were harder without separating.

Smirking, Anders let me down and traced my cheeks. “I really should have told you how much I love your tattoos, Hawke. I somehow forgot. Yours are noble-looking and almost look like a stylized beak here on the side.”

That had been strange, and I had to ask. “So you were like him?”

Looking rueful, Anders admitted, “Yes, and worse. I was determined to enjoy all the freedoms of a Warden as soon as I realized. I would have tried my best to get all of you into my bed.” His grin became a leer, “All at once actually, I liked a challenge.”

“Good luck with Vael. I still have trouble believing that he has a bastard.” Taking Anders' hand, I tugged and we set off downhill together.

We had all day and all winter to spend with each other now.

We traveled slowly looking to go further south to find a village in the hills where we could stay the winter. Anders, or Justice at least, didn't seem upset that the six months would be extended. We had winter to rest and heal after the defeat of Vengeance, just the two or three of us.

Things were quiet when two mercenaries and their mabari took a room at Bandit and Dog Inn in Hallowdingle for the winter. Anders insisted we go there when he heard the name of the village.

Notes:

Thanks for reading this tale of a Hawke and Anders after Kirkwall, I hope that you enjoyed the ride. There will be another story after a brief rest, a continuation written during NaNo 2011.

Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated, as feedback is the best way to encourage any writers that you like.

Notes:

Thanks to my lovely betas for all their help, but the rest is my fault.

A few short and important quotes are from the game. What comes after is more thought provoking, especially if you have little influence over what came before.

Series this work belongs to:

• « Part 3 of the Not Quite a Knave of Kirkwall series »