A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part One)
Title: A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part One)
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline
Pairings: Anders/Hawke
Rating: PG-13
It started on a warm spring evening, just outside the Hanged Man. It had been years since Bartrand had been committed to an institute outside Kirkwall, and longer since their expedition to the Deep Roads, but the tradition of the monthly meetings of the We Hate Bartrand club continued, though they didn’t really call it that anymore. It was mostly just an excuse to get together and talk and drink and, for Anders, lose miserably at cards.
“Why do you keep playing if you’re so bad at it?” Emma asked, leaning against him, as they left the tavern.
He shrugged. “It’s still fun,” he replied lightly. “Though if you don’t like seeing me lose you could always teach me your secrets.”
She laughed. “That’d probably go just as well as our chess games, hm?” Anders just grinned lecherously at her. “Besides, I don’t actually want you to get any better at cards. We do play strip poker from time to time, and I like it when you lose.”
Anders rolled his eyes. “There are easier ways of getting me naked. Like, you know, glancing at me suggestively, or mentioning that it’s a bit warm, or--”
Something moved in the shadows ahead of them, and the familiar ka-chunk of a crossbow was all the warning he had before a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder. Anders cried out and jerked backwards, instinctively clutching at the wound.
“Anders!” Emma grabbed his arm, eyes wide. “Are you--”
“That’s the Hawke!” someone shouted. “Kill her!”
Dark shapes moved, detaching from the shadows and resolving into a group of dwarves wielding crossbows and daggers. “Uh-oh,” Emma muttered and drew her sword.
“Don’t--” Anders ground out, clumsily sketching a repulsion glyph in the air with his left hand. The spell wavered, and he gritted his teeth, feeding more power into it until it held. Another two bolts hit the invisible wall and shattered.
“Well, this isn’t good,” Emma commented, glancing around.
He nodded and wrapped his hand around the bolt. “Anyone gets through, stab ‘em, and I am so sorry if I pass out,” he told her, and before she could argue he yanked the bolt from his shoulder. His vision went white, then black with pain, and when it cleared he was on his knees, both hands pressed to the wound. “Shit,” he muttered as he cast a healing spell on himself.
The dwarves were hanging back from the glyph, weapons readied, clearly just waiting for the spell to fail. Emma twirled her sword, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Knew I should’ve worn my armor…”
The glyph around their feet flickered, and Anders felt the spell fading. “Andraste’s flaming--” He drew in a deep breath and threw his arms out, ignoring the stabbing pain that the gesture caused, and sent a wave of frost and ice rolling down the street. “Back inside,” he muttered as he got to his feet, jerking his head at the tavern behind them.
“To the Void with that,” she retorted, darting out past the edge of the repulsion field to stab one of the frozen dwarves. She half-swung her other arm forward and almost stumbled, off-balance without the counter-weight of her shield. “Ah, damn!”
You stupid, stubborn woman-Anders sent lightning arcing down the street, crackling through the air and across the would-be assassins. Emma had shifted her fighting stance, holding the sword in both hands, and neatly disarmed their attackers as she moved past. It left her at one end of the street and him at the other. Anders fell back a few paces as the glyph finally collapsed.
The dwarves began to shake off the cold and looked around. Emma whistled sharply, catching their attention, and waved. Almost as one, they started towards her, some of them pulling out backup weapons. “Anytime with the lightning again, darling!” she called with forced cheer, rapidly backing up.
Anders rolled his eyes and hurled another blast of lightning down the street. This time, most of the dwarves collapsed, either unconscious or dead, and Emma was able to take down the few who managed to remain standing. She jogged back towards him, smiling. “You all right?” she asked, gesturing at his shoulder.
“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms. “And you are--”
An idiot, he’d intended to stay, but the words were swallowed by her mouth on his and her fingers in his hair. He just blinked at her when she drew back, grinning and licking her lips. “Mm,” she purred, leaning in again to kiss his jaw. “You taste like lightning.”
He took a steadying breath, trying to resist the urge to give in to the adrenaline and post-battle high and drag her into the nearest alley. “We really should get off the street,” he rasped as she trailed her lips across his neck.
“You suggesting we get a room?”
How had her hands gotten under his shirt without him noticing? “Flames, Emma,” he breathed. “I am suggesting we not stand here on this overly exposed street where more people might try to kill us.”
Emma sighed and drew back abruptly, her sudden absence leaving him cold. “Oh, fine, be all responsible,” she said. “May as well tell Varric what happened; see if he has any insights into who they are and why they want me dead.”
She started to walk past; Anders grabbed her arm and dragged her over to him. “And then we go home and you’d damn well better finish what you started,” he growled into her ear.
She turned her head, her nose brushing against his, and fluttered her eyelashes innocently. “We really ought to give Varric a thorough report.” Anders narrowed his eyes at her; she kissed the tip of his nose and stepped back. “C’mon, the sooner we talk to him, the sooner we can leave.”
Anders exhaled slowly. “Talk fast.”
--
“They’re Carta,” Varric reported a few days later over dinner. “Most of them have been absent without leave from the organization for a few months, now, though. My contacts were surprised to see them again.”
Anders leaned forward and snagged another roll from the plate in the center of the table. “Any idea why they’re after us?”
Emma shook her head. “Not us,” she said. “Just my family.” She picked up a letter from the table and held it out to Varric. “This came from Bethany today,” she said. “A bunch of Carta dwarves with Marcher accents raided Vigil’s Keep. They were trying to get to her.”
Anders raised his eyebrows. “That was stupid of them. The Keep held against an army of darkspawn for two days. A few dwarves aren’t going to get far.”
“The guards killed most of them before they reached the fortress,” Emma continued. “Got two of them alive, but they had some kind of poison capsules in their mouths. Killed themselves rather than be questioned. They just ranted about ‘the Hawke’ and needing to bring us to their master.”
Varric lowered the letter and stared at her. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said flatly. “At all. Carta aren’t the kind of people to take suicide jobs. They get arrested, they stay quiet, and when they’re released from prison the Carta takes care of them. That’s how it works. And why would they go all the bloody way to Ferelden to attack Sunshine, that just…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words in his confusion.
“They went after her the same night they attacked us in the street,” Emma said. “Whatever this was, it was a targeted attack on the Hawkes.” She paused for a moment. “All two of us.”
“Maybe they’re very confused bird watchers,” Anders suggested.
She sighed melodramatically. “If only my father had picked a less conspicuous surname.”
“Yeah, but Hawke sounds so badass,” Varric pointed out. “The man must have had a truly admirable flair for the dramatic.”
Emma smirked. “Oh, he did.”
Varric grinned and handed the letter back. “I’ll keep looking into it,” he promised. “You do anything to piss off the Carta recently?”
“Define ‘recently,’” she said. “I mean, I had a few run-ins with them back when I was working for Athenril, but that was six, seven years ago. If they had a grudge, wouldn’t they have done something about it before now?”
“Yes,” Varric replied immediately. “They absolutely would have.” He shook his head. “It just makes no sense,” he repeated, sounding almost personally offended by the illogic of the situation.
Anders shrugged. “If they attack again and we capture anyone for questioning, I can probably stop the poison from taking effect,” he said. “If I get to them fast enough.”
“Well, let’s hope they don’t,” Emma said.
Varric groaned. “Dammit, Hawke, now you’ve all but ensured it. Why do you insist on doing this to me?”
“Flair for the dramatic?” she suggested, grinning over the rim of her glass. “It does run in the family.”
--
The second attack came while Anders was working in his clinic. Some fever was spreading through Darktown, and while most adults just felt miserable for a week and then recovered, it wreaked havoc on the children. It also wasn’t the sort of disease that Anders could just use his magic to purge from a person-it was more insidious, in the blood somehow, and he couldn’t get enough of a fix on it to just cure it. All he could do was give advice on how to keep the fever down and hand out medicine while keeping the worst cases in the clinic to monitor them. The whole situation meant he hadn’t been home in three days.
“With you a moment,” Anders called when he heard the door open behind him, and then turned his attention back to Evelina. “They’ll be fine, I promise,” he said. “Just make sure they get plenty of clean water and rest. But if they start getting dehydrated or hallucinating, bring them in.”
Evelina sighed and nodded. “All right. I-flames, I wish I could just fix it,” she said, wringing her hands together.
He sighed and squeezed her shoulder. “Me too,” he murmured. “Go on home. Your kids need you.”
“Yes, I-I know. Thanks.”
She headed for the door. The sound of rattling armor and scuffling caught his attention, and he turned to see Aveline attempting to wrestle Emma into a chair. Emma was bleeding heavily from a wound on the side of her head, and her left gauntlet was dripping blood. “Flames, what happened?” he asked, hurrying over.
“Nothing,” Emma snapped, glaring at Aveline. “I’m fine.”
“It was the Carta again,” Aveline explained. “I’m short-staffed; half my guards are home with their kids or sick themselves, so I asked Hawke to help out on patrol. They jumped us in a blind alley.”
“I’m fine,” Emma insisted as Anders gingerly prodded at the ugly gash on her temple. “There are people here who need healing far more than I do.” She looked up at him and shook her head. “Just give me a potion or something. I can heal on my own for once.”
Anders glanced around the clinic. There were three children that he was keeping under direct supervision, and Briony and her twins were still waiting to be seen. “Blast,” he muttered. “Aveline, there should be some elfroot potions on my workbench in back.”
She nodded and strode off. Anders flashed Emma a quick smile before walking over to the miserable-looking twin girls. “They caught it, too?” he asked Briony.
“Afraid so,” she said wearily. Gwen was sitting on her mother’s lap, while Genevieve had cuddled up against her side, small hand gripping her skirt. “It’s just been getting worse every day…”
“That’s how it goes,” he said. “Usually peaks around the fifth day, and if they make it past that, they’ll be fine.” He laid the back of his palms against each girl’s forehead and winced. “This is, what, day three or four?”
“Four,” Briony said. Aveline tapped him on the shoulder, holding out a potion; he glanced up to confirm she’d grabbed the right thing and nodded.
“Well, they’re not too bad off,” he said, drawing on enough mana for a weak ice spell and letting his hands go cold. Gwen grabbed his hand with hers and pressed it harder against her forehead. He chuckled. “Does that feel better?”
“Uh-huh,” Gwen said, nodding.
“Where’s kitty?” Genevieve asked as she tried to look around.
He glanced over his shoulder and whistled. Pounce emerged from under the desk and trotted over, obediently jumping up onto the cot to curl up between the girls. They cooed over him and stroked his fur with exaggerated care. “They’ll be fine,” he told Briony with a smile. “Lots of rest and plenty of water, and they’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“Mama, I wanna kitty.”
“I want two kitties.”
Briony sighed and smiled back at Anders. “Thank you,” she said. “Is there anything you can give them, or…?”
“Just let it run its course,” he said. He ruffled the girls’ hair and straightened up. “Time to say goodbye to the kitty,” he said.
“Noooo,” Genevieve whined, trying to hug Pounce to her chest. The cat wriggled free and climbed Anders like a tree, digging his claws in as he clambered up to his shoulder.
Briony herded the girls out of the clinic, explaining with as much patience as she could muster why they couldn’t have the healer’s cat. Anders reached up and scratched Pounce’s head before turning back to Emma and… “Where’s Aveline?” he asked.
“She had to get back to the Keep,” she replied, smiling faintly at him. She’d managed to clean most of the blood off her face and had taken off her gauntlet to clumsily tie a bandage around her forearm. “How are things down here?”
He shrugged and knelt down to unwrap the bandage. Pounce jumped from his shoulders to the desk, curling up on top of a stack of paper. “Better than they were two days ago,” he said. “I think the worst of it’s over. I won’t be home tonight; I need to stay here and keep an eye on them,” he gestured at the cots where the children were still sleeping, “but it should be all right by tomorrow.”
Emma was still smiling at him, an odd, unfamiliar look in her eyes. “You’re good with kids,” she commented.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “Comes with the territory of being a healer,” he said. “I took care of a lot of the younger apprentices in the Circle.”
“Mm.” She watched him as he poked at the half-healed cut on her arm and sighed when he cast a healing spell on her. “Do you ever… y’know, think about children of your own?” she asked, her voice deceptively light.
Anders kept his head down, praying that he’d kept the panic from showing on his face, and shrugged. “Do you really want to have this conversation here?” he asked. Flames, he’d have to tell her, soon, about the infertility and the death sentence that came with being a Warden. He swallowed hard and focused his attention on redoing the bandage.
“I guess not,” she said, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Anders finished with her arm and stood, offering her a hand up. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Want me to bring you dinner later on?”
“Flames, yes, thank you.” He nodded wearily at her.
“All right. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be careful,” he called as she headed for the door.
“Aren’t I always?” she replied with a wink.
He shook his head as the door shut behind her. “No. No, you’re not.” Anders heaved a sigh and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Maybe by the time he got back home she’d have forgotten about the children talk and he could continue to avoid it. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit.”
“Serah?” One of the children’s fathers stood up. “She’s waking up.”
Anders nodded and walked across the room to his patients. He had work to do.
--
Nearly two weeks passed without any further assassination attempts from the Carta. Varric said he was still looking into the source of the attacks, and Anders started to hope that perhaps they’d given up. Emma wasn’t so sure, claiming that bad things always happened in threes.
It was so annoying when her pessimism turned out to be right.
“Hawke, I am so sorry,” Aveline said for probably the fifteenth time that night.
Emma rubbed her forehead. “It’s not your fault, Aveline,” she said. “Really.”
“I’m the guard captain, I’m supposed to make sure that Kirkwall’s citizens are safe,” she said. “Which includes preventing assassins from breaking into their homes in the middle of the night.”
Anders glanced over at the broken window and frowned. He’d been late getting home from the clinic, and Emma insisted on waiting up for him, so they were both still awake when they heard the window shatter. Mal had taken down one of the assassins by the time they reached the balcony, and between the three of them, they were able to kill the rest quickly. The guards had shown up shortly thereafter, along with Varric, who was lurking in a corner of the room, looking vaguely guilty.
“Everyone’s fine,” Emma said. “We’ll figure out who’s behind this, and it won’t be a problem anymore. Don’t worry.”
She sighed. “When you do figure it out, you’d better bring me along,” Aveline said, folding her arms. “I need to bring them in.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at her. “You really think I’m going to bring them back to Kirkwall alive?”
“I have to make the effort,” Aveline replied. “I’ll keep extra guards around your house for the night, make sure no one takes advantage of that window.”
“Thanks,” she said. Aveline strode off, shouting orders.
Orana took advantage of the break in conversation to scurry over. “Should I start cleaning the floor now, serah?” she asked, gesturing at the large bloodstains.
Emma winced. “No. No, that can-flames, that can wait until morning. Go back to bed.”
“I don’t mind! And I know how to get blood out of stone, it’s not so hard.”
Anders groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. “That’s not-it can wait, Orana,” Emma said, sounding pained. “Really.”
The elf sighed. “All right. Bodhan says he’ll get the window boarded up tomorrow and visit the glassmaker to get it fixed.”
“Fantastic,” Emma said. Anders dropped his hand as he heard Orana hurry away and glanced at Emma. “She’s getting better, that’s the really scary part,” Emma pointed out.
“I know.”
Varric pushed off the wall and walked over, hands in his pockets. “Good news for you, Hawke,” he said. “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but considering the circumstances…”
Emma straightened up. “You found them?”
“I did. They’re some kind of splinter group out in the Vinmark Mountains, about a day’s hike from Kirkwall.”
She nodded. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow, then.”
“Ah…” Varric frowned and shook his head. “That’s not a good idea, Hawke.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “The bastards just broke into my damned house, Varric, I’m not going to wait for them to come after me again!”
He held up his hands apologetically. “It’s past midnight now,” he said. “We’d have to leave in five hours or so to get out there before sundown. We all need to rest. Right, Blondie?”
Anders suddenly had the distinct impression he was being used as a pawn in some larger scheme that he did not understand in the slightest. Still, whatever his ulterior motives, Varric did have a point. “He’s right, love,” Anders said. Emma glared at him. “Healer, remember? You’re supposed to listen to me on matters of physical health?”
She sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Day after tomorrow, then.”
“Perfect,” Varric said with a smile. “I assume you’ll want me to join you?”
“Well, since you’re the one who knows where their hideout is, yes,” she said. “Now go, out of my house. I apparently need sleep.”
Varric sketched a half-bow. “I’ll see you later, Hawke. Night, Blondie.”
“G’night.”
The last of the guards disappeared out the door behind Varric, leaving them alone in the house. Emma sighed and sagged against Anders, burying her face in his chest. “Argh,” she said.
“I agree completely.” Anders kissed her hair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon. Bed.”
She grumbled but allowed him to lead her upstairs, Mal trotting along behind them, sniffing the ground anxiously. The dog jumped onto the bed and sat down in the middle of Anders’s side, clearly intending to guard his master while she slept. Emma walked around to her side of the bed and slid under the blankets; Anders folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at the dog. “My spot,” he said. “It’s been my spot for a year now. Down.”
Mal just stared at him. “He doesn’t trust you to protect me,” Emma told him. “Nothing personal, I don’t think he trusts anyone to protect me.”
Anders rolled his eyes. “I can shoot lightning bolts out of my hands.” The dog whined at him. “Come on,” he said. “Get down?” Mal didn’t move. Anders sighed. “If you’re down there, you’ll be able to jump on anyone coming through the door faster,” he said, pointing to the end of the bed. The dog cocked his head to the side, regarding him thoughtfully, then shuffled out of the way. “Finally,” Anders muttered as he climbed into bed.
Pounce emerged from his hiding place under the wardrobe and hopped onto the bed, pacing around before settling himself on Anders’s feet. Emma chuckled and leaned over to extinguish the lamp. “I hope Varric’s right,” she said. “I just want this to be over with.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling her towards him. “Me too.”
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline
Pairings: Anders/Hawke
Rating: PG-13
It started on a warm spring evening, just outside the Hanged Man. It had been years since Bartrand had been committed to an institute outside Kirkwall, and longer since their expedition to the Deep Roads, but the tradition of the monthly meetings of the We Hate Bartrand club continued, though they didn’t really call it that anymore. It was mostly just an excuse to get together and talk and drink and, for Anders, lose miserably at cards.
“Why do you keep playing if you’re so bad at it?” Emma asked, leaning against him, as they left the tavern.
He shrugged. “It’s still fun,” he replied lightly. “Though if you don’t like seeing me lose you could always teach me your secrets.”
She laughed. “That’d probably go just as well as our chess games, hm?” Anders just grinned lecherously at her. “Besides, I don’t actually want you to get any better at cards. We do play strip poker from time to time, and I like it when you lose.”
Anders rolled his eyes. “There are easier ways of getting me naked. Like, you know, glancing at me suggestively, or mentioning that it’s a bit warm, or--”
Something moved in the shadows ahead of them, and the familiar ka-chunk of a crossbow was all the warning he had before a crossbow bolt slammed into his shoulder. Anders cried out and jerked backwards, instinctively clutching at the wound.
“Anders!” Emma grabbed his arm, eyes wide. “Are you--”
“That’s the Hawke!” someone shouted. “Kill her!”
Dark shapes moved, detaching from the shadows and resolving into a group of dwarves wielding crossbows and daggers. “Uh-oh,” Emma muttered and drew her sword.
“Don’t--” Anders ground out, clumsily sketching a repulsion glyph in the air with his left hand. The spell wavered, and he gritted his teeth, feeding more power into it until it held. Another two bolts hit the invisible wall and shattered.
“Well, this isn’t good,” Emma commented, glancing around.
He nodded and wrapped his hand around the bolt. “Anyone gets through, stab ‘em, and I am so sorry if I pass out,” he told her, and before she could argue he yanked the bolt from his shoulder. His vision went white, then black with pain, and when it cleared he was on his knees, both hands pressed to the wound. “Shit,” he muttered as he cast a healing spell on himself.
The dwarves were hanging back from the glyph, weapons readied, clearly just waiting for the spell to fail. Emma twirled her sword, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Knew I should’ve worn my armor…”
The glyph around their feet flickered, and Anders felt the spell fading. “Andraste’s flaming--” He drew in a deep breath and threw his arms out, ignoring the stabbing pain that the gesture caused, and sent a wave of frost and ice rolling down the street. “Back inside,” he muttered as he got to his feet, jerking his head at the tavern behind them.
“To the Void with that,” she retorted, darting out past the edge of the repulsion field to stab one of the frozen dwarves. She half-swung her other arm forward and almost stumbled, off-balance without the counter-weight of her shield. “Ah, damn!”
You stupid, stubborn woman-Anders sent lightning arcing down the street, crackling through the air and across the would-be assassins. Emma had shifted her fighting stance, holding the sword in both hands, and neatly disarmed their attackers as she moved past. It left her at one end of the street and him at the other. Anders fell back a few paces as the glyph finally collapsed.
The dwarves began to shake off the cold and looked around. Emma whistled sharply, catching their attention, and waved. Almost as one, they started towards her, some of them pulling out backup weapons. “Anytime with the lightning again, darling!” she called with forced cheer, rapidly backing up.
Anders rolled his eyes and hurled another blast of lightning down the street. This time, most of the dwarves collapsed, either unconscious or dead, and Emma was able to take down the few who managed to remain standing. She jogged back towards him, smiling. “You all right?” she asked, gesturing at his shoulder.
“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms. “And you are--”
An idiot, he’d intended to stay, but the words were swallowed by her mouth on his and her fingers in his hair. He just blinked at her when she drew back, grinning and licking her lips. “Mm,” she purred, leaning in again to kiss his jaw. “You taste like lightning.”
He took a steadying breath, trying to resist the urge to give in to the adrenaline and post-battle high and drag her into the nearest alley. “We really should get off the street,” he rasped as she trailed her lips across his neck.
“You suggesting we get a room?”
How had her hands gotten under his shirt without him noticing? “Flames, Emma,” he breathed. “I am suggesting we not stand here on this overly exposed street where more people might try to kill us.”
Emma sighed and drew back abruptly, her sudden absence leaving him cold. “Oh, fine, be all responsible,” she said. “May as well tell Varric what happened; see if he has any insights into who they are and why they want me dead.”
She started to walk past; Anders grabbed her arm and dragged her over to him. “And then we go home and you’d damn well better finish what you started,” he growled into her ear.
She turned her head, her nose brushing against his, and fluttered her eyelashes innocently. “We really ought to give Varric a thorough report.” Anders narrowed his eyes at her; she kissed the tip of his nose and stepped back. “C’mon, the sooner we talk to him, the sooner we can leave.”
Anders exhaled slowly. “Talk fast.”
--
“They’re Carta,” Varric reported a few days later over dinner. “Most of them have been absent without leave from the organization for a few months, now, though. My contacts were surprised to see them again.”
Anders leaned forward and snagged another roll from the plate in the center of the table. “Any idea why they’re after us?”
Emma shook her head. “Not us,” she said. “Just my family.” She picked up a letter from the table and held it out to Varric. “This came from Bethany today,” she said. “A bunch of Carta dwarves with Marcher accents raided Vigil’s Keep. They were trying to get to her.”
Anders raised his eyebrows. “That was stupid of them. The Keep held against an army of darkspawn for two days. A few dwarves aren’t going to get far.”
“The guards killed most of them before they reached the fortress,” Emma continued. “Got two of them alive, but they had some kind of poison capsules in their mouths. Killed themselves rather than be questioned. They just ranted about ‘the Hawke’ and needing to bring us to their master.”
Varric lowered the letter and stared at her. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said flatly. “At all. Carta aren’t the kind of people to take suicide jobs. They get arrested, they stay quiet, and when they’re released from prison the Carta takes care of them. That’s how it works. And why would they go all the bloody way to Ferelden to attack Sunshine, that just…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words in his confusion.
“They went after her the same night they attacked us in the street,” Emma said. “Whatever this was, it was a targeted attack on the Hawkes.” She paused for a moment. “All two of us.”
“Maybe they’re very confused bird watchers,” Anders suggested.
She sighed melodramatically. “If only my father had picked a less conspicuous surname.”
“Yeah, but Hawke sounds so badass,” Varric pointed out. “The man must have had a truly admirable flair for the dramatic.”
Emma smirked. “Oh, he did.”
Varric grinned and handed the letter back. “I’ll keep looking into it,” he promised. “You do anything to piss off the Carta recently?”
“Define ‘recently,’” she said. “I mean, I had a few run-ins with them back when I was working for Athenril, but that was six, seven years ago. If they had a grudge, wouldn’t they have done something about it before now?”
“Yes,” Varric replied immediately. “They absolutely would have.” He shook his head. “It just makes no sense,” he repeated, sounding almost personally offended by the illogic of the situation.
Anders shrugged. “If they attack again and we capture anyone for questioning, I can probably stop the poison from taking effect,” he said. “If I get to them fast enough.”
“Well, let’s hope they don’t,” Emma said.
Varric groaned. “Dammit, Hawke, now you’ve all but ensured it. Why do you insist on doing this to me?”
“Flair for the dramatic?” she suggested, grinning over the rim of her glass. “It does run in the family.”
--
The second attack came while Anders was working in his clinic. Some fever was spreading through Darktown, and while most adults just felt miserable for a week and then recovered, it wreaked havoc on the children. It also wasn’t the sort of disease that Anders could just use his magic to purge from a person-it was more insidious, in the blood somehow, and he couldn’t get enough of a fix on it to just cure it. All he could do was give advice on how to keep the fever down and hand out medicine while keeping the worst cases in the clinic to monitor them. The whole situation meant he hadn’t been home in three days.
“With you a moment,” Anders called when he heard the door open behind him, and then turned his attention back to Evelina. “They’ll be fine, I promise,” he said. “Just make sure they get plenty of clean water and rest. But if they start getting dehydrated or hallucinating, bring them in.”
Evelina sighed and nodded. “All right. I-flames, I wish I could just fix it,” she said, wringing her hands together.
He sighed and squeezed her shoulder. “Me too,” he murmured. “Go on home. Your kids need you.”
“Yes, I-I know. Thanks.”
She headed for the door. The sound of rattling armor and scuffling caught his attention, and he turned to see Aveline attempting to wrestle Emma into a chair. Emma was bleeding heavily from a wound on the side of her head, and her left gauntlet was dripping blood. “Flames, what happened?” he asked, hurrying over.
“Nothing,” Emma snapped, glaring at Aveline. “I’m fine.”
“It was the Carta again,” Aveline explained. “I’m short-staffed; half my guards are home with their kids or sick themselves, so I asked Hawke to help out on patrol. They jumped us in a blind alley.”
“I’m fine,” Emma insisted as Anders gingerly prodded at the ugly gash on her temple. “There are people here who need healing far more than I do.” She looked up at him and shook her head. “Just give me a potion or something. I can heal on my own for once.”
Anders glanced around the clinic. There were three children that he was keeping under direct supervision, and Briony and her twins were still waiting to be seen. “Blast,” he muttered. “Aveline, there should be some elfroot potions on my workbench in back.”
She nodded and strode off. Anders flashed Emma a quick smile before walking over to the miserable-looking twin girls. “They caught it, too?” he asked Briony.
“Afraid so,” she said wearily. Gwen was sitting on her mother’s lap, while Genevieve had cuddled up against her side, small hand gripping her skirt. “It’s just been getting worse every day…”
“That’s how it goes,” he said. “Usually peaks around the fifth day, and if they make it past that, they’ll be fine.” He laid the back of his palms against each girl’s forehead and winced. “This is, what, day three or four?”
“Four,” Briony said. Aveline tapped him on the shoulder, holding out a potion; he glanced up to confirm she’d grabbed the right thing and nodded.
“Well, they’re not too bad off,” he said, drawing on enough mana for a weak ice spell and letting his hands go cold. Gwen grabbed his hand with hers and pressed it harder against her forehead. He chuckled. “Does that feel better?”
“Uh-huh,” Gwen said, nodding.
“Where’s kitty?” Genevieve asked as she tried to look around.
He glanced over his shoulder and whistled. Pounce emerged from under the desk and trotted over, obediently jumping up onto the cot to curl up between the girls. They cooed over him and stroked his fur with exaggerated care. “They’ll be fine,” he told Briony with a smile. “Lots of rest and plenty of water, and they’ll be back to normal in no time.”
“Mama, I wanna kitty.”
“I want two kitties.”
Briony sighed and smiled back at Anders. “Thank you,” she said. “Is there anything you can give them, or…?”
“Just let it run its course,” he said. He ruffled the girls’ hair and straightened up. “Time to say goodbye to the kitty,” he said.
“Noooo,” Genevieve whined, trying to hug Pounce to her chest. The cat wriggled free and climbed Anders like a tree, digging his claws in as he clambered up to his shoulder.
Briony herded the girls out of the clinic, explaining with as much patience as she could muster why they couldn’t have the healer’s cat. Anders reached up and scratched Pounce’s head before turning back to Emma and… “Where’s Aveline?” he asked.
“She had to get back to the Keep,” she replied, smiling faintly at him. She’d managed to clean most of the blood off her face and had taken off her gauntlet to clumsily tie a bandage around her forearm. “How are things down here?”
He shrugged and knelt down to unwrap the bandage. Pounce jumped from his shoulders to the desk, curling up on top of a stack of paper. “Better than they were two days ago,” he said. “I think the worst of it’s over. I won’t be home tonight; I need to stay here and keep an eye on them,” he gestured at the cots where the children were still sleeping, “but it should be all right by tomorrow.”
Emma was still smiling at him, an odd, unfamiliar look in her eyes. “You’re good with kids,” she commented.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “Comes with the territory of being a healer,” he said. “I took care of a lot of the younger apprentices in the Circle.”
“Mm.” She watched him as he poked at the half-healed cut on her arm and sighed when he cast a healing spell on her. “Do you ever… y’know, think about children of your own?” she asked, her voice deceptively light.
Anders kept his head down, praying that he’d kept the panic from showing on his face, and shrugged. “Do you really want to have this conversation here?” he asked. Flames, he’d have to tell her, soon, about the infertility and the death sentence that came with being a Warden. He swallowed hard and focused his attention on redoing the bandage.
“I guess not,” she said, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Anders finished with her arm and stood, offering her a hand up. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Want me to bring you dinner later on?”
“Flames, yes, thank you.” He nodded wearily at her.
“All right. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Be careful,” he called as she headed for the door.
“Aren’t I always?” she replied with a wink.
He shook his head as the door shut behind her. “No. No, you’re not.” Anders heaved a sigh and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Maybe by the time he got back home she’d have forgotten about the children talk and he could continue to avoid it. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit.”
“Serah?” One of the children’s fathers stood up. “She’s waking up.”
Anders nodded and walked across the room to his patients. He had work to do.
--
Nearly two weeks passed without any further assassination attempts from the Carta. Varric said he was still looking into the source of the attacks, and Anders started to hope that perhaps they’d given up. Emma wasn’t so sure, claiming that bad things always happened in threes.
It was so annoying when her pessimism turned out to be right.
“Hawke, I am so sorry,” Aveline said for probably the fifteenth time that night.
Emma rubbed her forehead. “It’s not your fault, Aveline,” she said. “Really.”
“I’m the guard captain, I’m supposed to make sure that Kirkwall’s citizens are safe,” she said. “Which includes preventing assassins from breaking into their homes in the middle of the night.”
Anders glanced over at the broken window and frowned. He’d been late getting home from the clinic, and Emma insisted on waiting up for him, so they were both still awake when they heard the window shatter. Mal had taken down one of the assassins by the time they reached the balcony, and between the three of them, they were able to kill the rest quickly. The guards had shown up shortly thereafter, along with Varric, who was lurking in a corner of the room, looking vaguely guilty.
“Everyone’s fine,” Emma said. “We’ll figure out who’s behind this, and it won’t be a problem anymore. Don’t worry.”
She sighed. “When you do figure it out, you’d better bring me along,” Aveline said, folding her arms. “I need to bring them in.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at her. “You really think I’m going to bring them back to Kirkwall alive?”
“I have to make the effort,” Aveline replied. “I’ll keep extra guards around your house for the night, make sure no one takes advantage of that window.”
“Thanks,” she said. Aveline strode off, shouting orders.
Orana took advantage of the break in conversation to scurry over. “Should I start cleaning the floor now, serah?” she asked, gesturing at the large bloodstains.
Emma winced. “No. No, that can-flames, that can wait until morning. Go back to bed.”
“I don’t mind! And I know how to get blood out of stone, it’s not so hard.”
Anders groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. “That’s not-it can wait, Orana,” Emma said, sounding pained. “Really.”
The elf sighed. “All right. Bodhan says he’ll get the window boarded up tomorrow and visit the glassmaker to get it fixed.”
“Fantastic,” Emma said. Anders dropped his hand as he heard Orana hurry away and glanced at Emma. “She’s getting better, that’s the really scary part,” Emma pointed out.
“I know.”
Varric pushed off the wall and walked over, hands in his pockets. “Good news for you, Hawke,” he said. “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but considering the circumstances…”
Emma straightened up. “You found them?”
“I did. They’re some kind of splinter group out in the Vinmark Mountains, about a day’s hike from Kirkwall.”
She nodded. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow, then.”
“Ah…” Varric frowned and shook his head. “That’s not a good idea, Hawke.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “The bastards just broke into my damned house, Varric, I’m not going to wait for them to come after me again!”
He held up his hands apologetically. “It’s past midnight now,” he said. “We’d have to leave in five hours or so to get out there before sundown. We all need to rest. Right, Blondie?”
Anders suddenly had the distinct impression he was being used as a pawn in some larger scheme that he did not understand in the slightest. Still, whatever his ulterior motives, Varric did have a point. “He’s right, love,” Anders said. Emma glared at him. “Healer, remember? You’re supposed to listen to me on matters of physical health?”
She sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Day after tomorrow, then.”
“Perfect,” Varric said with a smile. “I assume you’ll want me to join you?”
“Well, since you’re the one who knows where their hideout is, yes,” she said. “Now go, out of my house. I apparently need sleep.”
Varric sketched a half-bow. “I’ll see you later, Hawke. Night, Blondie.”
“G’night.”
The last of the guards disappeared out the door behind Varric, leaving them alone in the house. Emma sighed and sagged against Anders, burying her face in his chest. “Argh,” she said.
“I agree completely.” Anders kissed her hair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “C’mon. Bed.”
She grumbled but allowed him to lead her upstairs, Mal trotting along behind them, sniffing the ground anxiously. The dog jumped onto the bed and sat down in the middle of Anders’s side, clearly intending to guard his master while she slept. Emma walked around to her side of the bed and slid under the blankets; Anders folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at the dog. “My spot,” he said. “It’s been my spot for a year now. Down.”
Mal just stared at him. “He doesn’t trust you to protect me,” Emma told him. “Nothing personal, I don’t think he trusts anyone to protect me.”
Anders rolled his eyes. “I can shoot lightning bolts out of my hands.” The dog whined at him. “Come on,” he said. “Get down?” Mal didn’t move. Anders sighed. “If you’re down there, you’ll be able to jump on anyone coming through the door faster,” he said, pointing to the end of the bed. The dog cocked his head to the side, regarding him thoughtfully, then shuffled out of the way. “Finally,” Anders muttered as he climbed into bed.
Pounce emerged from his hiding place under the wardrobe and hopped onto the bed, pacing around before settling himself on Anders’s feet. Emma chuckled and leaned over to extinguish the lamp. “I hope Varric’s right,” she said. “I just want this to be over with.”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling her towards him. “Me too.”