The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.
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-- 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. “Abominations 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.
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A/N: Thanks to 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.
