On the Run: Chapter Three
Title: On the Run
Chapter Rating: T (for now)
Spoilers: Everywhere
Summary: Post-game fic following Hawke and company after the events at the Gallows. In this chapter: Varric struggles with inspiration and things onboard become tense. Chapter one back here and chapter two over here. Many thanks to A and tersa for betareading and apologies this one took so stupidly long.
Varric spends most of his time writing. For him this voyage is extremely useful, in a way. No Merchants' Guild meetings to attend, no problems to take care of, no need to arrange bribes, he can lock himself in his cabin and scribble to his heart's content. Which is good, because he has a lot of work to do. He'll have to pay for it later; the business empire he's spent ten years building will be in a shambles. But it would've been a shambles if he stayed as well, and half the fun is in the building. Maintaining a business empire is much less interesting and involves a lot more paperwork.
Unlike the others, he's determined to return to Kirkwall eventually, even though he knows he'll return alone. Like Aveline, he's put too much work into the city to let it go, and he was born there. It's his. But he's not ready to part company from Hawke and the others just yet, and it's helpful to have them around while he writes her story.
The story of the Champion of Kirkwall. Varric's always been a storyteller, and this is the sort of tale that only comes along once in a lifetime. He's damned if he'll let the opportunity slip away from him. This will be his masterpiece, and he writes with all the frenzy of an artist, until his hand is cramped and sheets of paper litter the floor. Ostensibly he shares his cabin with Fenris, but the elf spends most of his nights with Isabela, which is fortunate as there's not much room in here for anyone but Varric and the pressure of the Tale.
A knock on the door interrupts him, which is annoying; he'd just gotten a good line of description going, and doesn't bother to answer, just dips his quill in the ink and keeps writing.
The door opens. "Go away," he says, without looking up.
"It's my ship, you can't tell me to go away." Isabela steps through the door. "I liked you better when you were seasick. Remember Varric, if you neglect Bianca too much she might leave you for me after all."
"Rivaini, you know not to flirt with Bianca. There's only room in her heart for one dwarf. Don't annoy her." Varric looks up; he knows Isabela won't leave until she's said whatever she's here to say, so he might as well let her get on with it. His train of thought will just have to wait.
"I could never annoy Bianca. She adores me."
"Whatever you say. Did you have anything to talk about, or did you come in here just to try and lure Bianca away from me?"
Isabela shrugs. "We'll be docking soon. Only for a few hours, but if you want the chance to jump ashore and pick up supplies, this is your chance."
"Thank Andraste!" Varric tosses down his quill. "I'm nearly out of paper. I was wondering if I'd have to start writing on the walls."
Her eyes flash. "Don't even think about writing on my ship."
"I'll make you a deal, Rivaini; I won't vandalize the Siren if you stop trying to seduce my crossbow."
Isabela pouts. "You don't want me to have any fun," she complains as she leaves.
Varric grabs his quill again and scribbles a last few words, then caps the ink tightly shut--he's running out of that too, he lost a few bottles by accident when he underestimated how much the damn ship would rock around. At least he's not puking up his guts anymore. For the first time in his life he relates to the traditional dwarven love of stone. Good, hard stone stays put when you're on it. If it weren't for Hawke and the Tale, he'd be running back to Kirkwall as fast as his legs could carry him. Well, someone's legs, no point in using his own legs when there are longer ones available.
He opens his door to a glare of sunlight and noise. The noise, he realizes, has been going on all along, he'd just been ignoring it while concentrating. That's another thing that had never occured to him about ships. They're never quiet. Clanking chains, creaking wood, shouting men, roaring wind, crashing waves...Varric's not one to prefer a quiet life, but this is ridiculous. He's had to improvise a pair of earplugs in order to sleep at night. He's going to have to rewrite all his pirate romances...
"Varric. Going ashore?"
Hawke looks down at him, half-smiling; Varric fires a grin at her in return. He's glad to see a smile from Hawke, even if it's just a partial one. Even his most outrageous lies barely get a reaction from her nowadays, she's so damn grim. "Damn straight I am. Any time spent not on this boat is good time. You?"
She shakes her head. "Probably not a good idea. Even without my armor, the Champion could be recognized. We can do without the hassle. Can you pick up a few things for me?"
"Sure, anything to give me an excuse to linger on dry land. What do you need?"
She hands him a list. Nothing exciting, just a few small items, should be easy for him to get ahold of. He nods. "Not a problem, Hawke."
"What'd you do with your armor?" Isabela asks, joining them. "I was wondering."
Hawke grimaces. "Left it. I'm not the Champion anymore, after all. And it's much too identifiable." There's a brief, awkward moment, which she attempts to banish by shrugging. "I had two spare sets, brought both of those. They'll work as well if we run into fighting."
"More like when," Varric points out.
Hawke half-smiles again. "When, then."
"I certainly hope it's soon," Isabela sighs. "I haven't had a good brawl since we left. I'll lose my touch at this rate."
"It's only been a week, Isabela."
"So? That's a long time to be deprived. Of all sorts of things." She leers. "Maybe I should challenge you to a duel, sweetheart."
Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Are you referring to the horizontal variety or the type with weapons?"
"As soon as you tell me the difference, I'll let you know."
"All this innuendo is lovely, ladies, but some of us have things to do," Varric interrupts. The ship has docked during their conversation, and he can see the crew lowering the gangplank.
"One thing, first." Hawke looks at Isabela, face set and closed. "Anders is not to leave the ship."
Isabela raises an eyebrow. "What, and I'm supposed to prevent him? What am I supposed to do, lock him up if he resists?"
"If necessary, yes."
"I prefer my partners in that sort of thing to be willing participants, you know."
Hawke doesn't react even to this. "Please, Isabela. For me."
Isabela groans. "You just had to put it that way, didn't you...fine. I'll do what I can. If I need to. This time. But only this time, and only because I agree that it wouldn't be a good idea this close to Kirkwall."
Hawke nods and wanders off, getting herself out of sight. Isabela steps back, muttering under her breath, "Though how she expects me to restrain a mage against his will is beyond me."
"Use your feminine wiles, Rivaini. They've never failed you yet." Varric leans against the wall next to her, thoughtful at this new development. Hawke hasn't so much as mentioned Anders since they left, and any attempt to discuss him with her has been met with evasion. This should be an improvement, but he suspects it isn't.
"Hah. Even if I wanted to seduce Anders--which I frankly don't, he's much too mopey for me nowadays--I doubt I could manage it. He takes it all much too seriously and he's been fixated on Hawke for years."
"You're mean you're not irresistible? You're ruining a legend here."
"Don't tell anyone. My reputation needs all the help it can get. Speaking of which, you'd better be saying only nice things about me in that book of yours, or you and it are going into the brink."
"The beautiful, ruthless pirate queen who could steal the heart of the Maker himself? You'll live forever, Rivaini."
"I wish." Isabela smiles, shaking her head. "So long as I'm alive every moment, that's enough," she says quietly, more to herself than him.
Varric chuckles. "Do I catch the hint of a philosophy there, Rivaini?"
She grins. "What can I say? I like to keep men guessing. Go ashore, Paragon. The tide will turn sooner than you think."
"It always does," Varric mutters as he walks away. "Good line, though, I should remember that one."
His errands take some time; he has two contacts in this city, but hadn't ever met either of them in person, and one forgets the sign and countersign he'd so painstakingly set up years ago when developing his information network. Really, he can't get good people for love or money nowadays. Well, a lot of money, maybe.
His contacts don't have much news from Kirkwall; others have fled the city and arrived here, but not many, and all of them left either just before or at the same time they had. That's good, to Varric's mind; it means no one's caught up with them yet. On the other hand, it's frustrating to not know what's going on back there. He makes arrangements for information to spread over the coastline, and pays his contacts a great deal to ensure they'll keep silent about his whereabouts. He also lies and says they're on their way to Highever, in case all that money is wasted and they talk to the wrong people anyway. It's believable, and will help cause confusion. Varric is a great believer in the power of confusion.
It's hours before he gets back. When he returns, Isabela's standing pretty much where he left her and overseeing a number of truly huge barrels being rolled onboard. He juts his chin towards them. "What's in those?"
"Fresh water," she says absently, not really paying attention to him; she's distracted by her crew. "Move it, you lily-livered scumbags! Get those into the hold and get on-board, unless you want to be left here to rot!"
"Such charming language," Varric compliments her. He looks around; Merrill's climbed back up in the rigging, but he doesn't see any of the others. "How'd Blondie take the news that he wasn't allowed offship?"
Isabela grimaces. "Gloweringly. Some men are attractive when they glower. He's not one of them. I think I even caught a flicker of blue, but all he did stomp off without saying anything."
"Huh. From Blondie, not ranting is a bad sign."
"You're not kidding. I wish he and Hawke would just have their angry make-up sex and get it over with. I don't know why they're waiting, angry make-up sex is one of the best types there is."
So he's not the only one who's worried. Hardly surprising. The question is, will Hawke do anything about the situation or let it fester? Probably the latter. Not good. Their glorious leader's not going to be in any shape to lead anyone anywhere if she's ignoring her most immediate problem. This is going to require some thought. "Don't ask me, Rivaini. I'm a fighter, not a lover."
"Pull the other one, Paragon. I've read all your books."
"I know, it's very gratifying. One day I might even dedicate one to you."
Isabela laughs. "Now that's something to look forward to!"
Most of their companions aren't around, but Varric does notice someone unusual. Sitting on the opposite side of the ship, leaning against the wall, are what look to be a family: mother, father, a young boy, perhaps twelve years old. The parents look somewhere between worried and relieved, and the boy like he's perpetually annoyed. Varric would guess from the quality and style of their clothes that they're Kirkwall nobles, or were until recently. That's unexpected. "Who's the new group?"
"More people on the run. My guess is the kid's a mage and they're fleeing the Templars. They were able to pay to get on the fastest ship out of Kirkwall that night, but it foundered offshore." Isabela shrugs. "They're paying me handsomely to get them further away. Who am I to turn away a family in need?"
"Your altruism is an inspiration, Rivaini."
The last of the barrels is rolled on board, and Isabela gets distracted by directing the crew to cast off. Varric helpfully gets out of the way. As they set sail, he vaguely considers watching the shore disappear, but decides it'd be too depressing. Besides, he has more ink now. But as he approaches the door that leads to the cabins, it opens, and Anders steps out, scowling. "Am I allowed out yet?"
Varric holds up his hands. "Down, Blondie. You know no one here's trying to cage you."
"Could've fooled me." It comes out as a snarl, but Anders almost at once looks as though he regrets it. "Sorry, Varric. I don't mean to snap at you. It's just..." he trails off.
"Yeah, well, you haven't exactly been trustworthy lately, Blondie." Anders grimaces, silently acknowledging the point. "And this was for practical reasons," Varric continues. "Too unlikely you're anonymous here. Hawke didn't go ashore either."
Anders frowns, more in confusion this time than anger. "I...didn't realize that."
Varric grins. "We're wanted criminals, Blondie. Probably got prices on our heads and everything."
"That's nothing new." Anders suddenly catches sight of the family standing on the deck, and his eyes go wide. "What are they doing here?"
"Running like hell, same as us."
"That's Mikal's family," Anders murmurs. "I'm sure of it. He pointed them out to me once, asked me to keep an eye on his brother if anything happened to him. How did--"
It's at that moment that the boy, feeling someone's eyes on him, looks over. He immediately looks furious and jumps to his feet. "You!" he shouts. "You should be dead! How dare you still be alive after what you did?"
That gets everyone's attention, including the crew, and Anders takes a step backwards in shock. The boy's parents, flustered, are trying to calm their son down, but he's having none of it and his eyes are blazing.
The boy's mother leans down and whispers something frantically; the boy shakes his head in refusal. "I'm sure it's him! He did it, I was there, I heard him say he did it!" He whirls back towards Anders. "You took everything we had!" he shouts. "What safety mages had...there wasn't much of it, but at least there was some! Now there's none anywhere, because of you! My brother is dead because of you!" His hands are clenched, and any second now he's going to grab a weapon, any weapon, or attack Anders with his bare fists if he has to. Anders just stands, stricken and silent. Varric growls under his breath and reaches for Bianca, just in case.
And then Hawke is there.
She doesn't even have to do anything, that's what's so impressive. She just stands there, radiating...something. Even Varric has a hard time finding a word for it. It'd be intimidation if there was any threat, but there isn't. Heroism, maybe. Unlike many, Varric knows that real heroism is not romantic, even though he writes it to be. But it does command attention.
Her voice is low and impassive when she finally speaks. "Don't reach out for vengeance, kid. It'll reach back. And it's worse than darkspawn taint. It won't just poison you, it'll poison everything you care about."
It's perhaps the certitude that reaches through the boy's rage and silences him. His family pull him away, and finally, after a moment's reluctance, he goes, alternating angry stares at Anders and confused ones at Hawke. Hawke doesn't move, just watches him go. Only after the boy is safely out of sight does she turn to walk back up to the quarterdeck. As she passes Anders she pauses, and without looking at him, says quietly, "It'd probably be best for you to stay out of sight until they leave the ship."
Anders' eyes go wide; finally, he nods. Hawke returns to the quarterdeck, where Isabela has been watching all this. After a moment of looking after her, Anders flees back towards his own cabin.
Unless Varric's very much mistaken, which he rarely is, that's the first time Hawke's spoken to Anders since they left Kirkwall.
Next up, Bethany.
Chapter Rating: T (for now)
Spoilers: Everywhere
Summary: Post-game fic following Hawke and company after the events at the Gallows. In this chapter: Varric struggles with inspiration and things onboard become tense. Chapter one back here and chapter two over here. Many thanks to A and tersa for betareading and apologies this one took so stupidly long.
Varric spends most of his time writing. For him this voyage is extremely useful, in a way. No Merchants' Guild meetings to attend, no problems to take care of, no need to arrange bribes, he can lock himself in his cabin and scribble to his heart's content. Which is good, because he has a lot of work to do. He'll have to pay for it later; the business empire he's spent ten years building will be in a shambles. But it would've been a shambles if he stayed as well, and half the fun is in the building. Maintaining a business empire is much less interesting and involves a lot more paperwork.
Unlike the others, he's determined to return to Kirkwall eventually, even though he knows he'll return alone. Like Aveline, he's put too much work into the city to let it go, and he was born there. It's his. But he's not ready to part company from Hawke and the others just yet, and it's helpful to have them around while he writes her story.
The story of the Champion of Kirkwall. Varric's always been a storyteller, and this is the sort of tale that only comes along once in a lifetime. He's damned if he'll let the opportunity slip away from him. This will be his masterpiece, and he writes with all the frenzy of an artist, until his hand is cramped and sheets of paper litter the floor. Ostensibly he shares his cabin with Fenris, but the elf spends most of his nights with Isabela, which is fortunate as there's not much room in here for anyone but Varric and the pressure of the Tale.
A knock on the door interrupts him, which is annoying; he'd just gotten a good line of description going, and doesn't bother to answer, just dips his quill in the ink and keeps writing.
The door opens. "Go away," he says, without looking up.
"It's my ship, you can't tell me to go away." Isabela steps through the door. "I liked you better when you were seasick. Remember Varric, if you neglect Bianca too much she might leave you for me after all."
"Rivaini, you know not to flirt with Bianca. There's only room in her heart for one dwarf. Don't annoy her." Varric looks up; he knows Isabela won't leave until she's said whatever she's here to say, so he might as well let her get on with it. His train of thought will just have to wait.
"I could never annoy Bianca. She adores me."
"Whatever you say. Did you have anything to talk about, or did you come in here just to try and lure Bianca away from me?"
Isabela shrugs. "We'll be docking soon. Only for a few hours, but if you want the chance to jump ashore and pick up supplies, this is your chance."
"Thank Andraste!" Varric tosses down his quill. "I'm nearly out of paper. I was wondering if I'd have to start writing on the walls."
Her eyes flash. "Don't even think about writing on my ship."
"I'll make you a deal, Rivaini; I won't vandalize the Siren if you stop trying to seduce my crossbow."
Isabela pouts. "You don't want me to have any fun," she complains as she leaves.
Varric grabs his quill again and scribbles a last few words, then caps the ink tightly shut--he's running out of that too, he lost a few bottles by accident when he underestimated how much the damn ship would rock around. At least he's not puking up his guts anymore. For the first time in his life he relates to the traditional dwarven love of stone. Good, hard stone stays put when you're on it. If it weren't for Hawke and the Tale, he'd be running back to Kirkwall as fast as his legs could carry him. Well, someone's legs, no point in using his own legs when there are longer ones available.
He opens his door to a glare of sunlight and noise. The noise, he realizes, has been going on all along, he'd just been ignoring it while concentrating. That's another thing that had never occured to him about ships. They're never quiet. Clanking chains, creaking wood, shouting men, roaring wind, crashing waves...Varric's not one to prefer a quiet life, but this is ridiculous. He's had to improvise a pair of earplugs in order to sleep at night. He's going to have to rewrite all his pirate romances...
"Varric. Going ashore?"
Hawke looks down at him, half-smiling; Varric fires a grin at her in return. He's glad to see a smile from Hawke, even if it's just a partial one. Even his most outrageous lies barely get a reaction from her nowadays, she's so damn grim. "Damn straight I am. Any time spent not on this boat is good time. You?"
She shakes her head. "Probably not a good idea. Even without my armor, the Champion could be recognized. We can do without the hassle. Can you pick up a few things for me?"
"Sure, anything to give me an excuse to linger on dry land. What do you need?"
She hands him a list. Nothing exciting, just a few small items, should be easy for him to get ahold of. He nods. "Not a problem, Hawke."
"What'd you do with your armor?" Isabela asks, joining them. "I was wondering."
Hawke grimaces. "Left it. I'm not the Champion anymore, after all. And it's much too identifiable." There's a brief, awkward moment, which she attempts to banish by shrugging. "I had two spare sets, brought both of those. They'll work as well if we run into fighting."
"More like when," Varric points out.
Hawke half-smiles again. "When, then."
"I certainly hope it's soon," Isabela sighs. "I haven't had a good brawl since we left. I'll lose my touch at this rate."
"It's only been a week, Isabela."
"So? That's a long time to be deprived. Of all sorts of things." She leers. "Maybe I should challenge you to a duel, sweetheart."
Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Are you referring to the horizontal variety or the type with weapons?"
"As soon as you tell me the difference, I'll let you know."
"All this innuendo is lovely, ladies, but some of us have things to do," Varric interrupts. The ship has docked during their conversation, and he can see the crew lowering the gangplank.
"One thing, first." Hawke looks at Isabela, face set and closed. "Anders is not to leave the ship."
Isabela raises an eyebrow. "What, and I'm supposed to prevent him? What am I supposed to do, lock him up if he resists?"
"If necessary, yes."
"I prefer my partners in that sort of thing to be willing participants, you know."
Hawke doesn't react even to this. "Please, Isabela. For me."
Isabela groans. "You just had to put it that way, didn't you...fine. I'll do what I can. If I need to. This time. But only this time, and only because I agree that it wouldn't be a good idea this close to Kirkwall."
Hawke nods and wanders off, getting herself out of sight. Isabela steps back, muttering under her breath, "Though how she expects me to restrain a mage against his will is beyond me."
"Use your feminine wiles, Rivaini. They've never failed you yet." Varric leans against the wall next to her, thoughtful at this new development. Hawke hasn't so much as mentioned Anders since they left, and any attempt to discuss him with her has been met with evasion. This should be an improvement, but he suspects it isn't.
"Hah. Even if I wanted to seduce Anders--which I frankly don't, he's much too mopey for me nowadays--I doubt I could manage it. He takes it all much too seriously and he's been fixated on Hawke for years."
"You're mean you're not irresistible? You're ruining a legend here."
"Don't tell anyone. My reputation needs all the help it can get. Speaking of which, you'd better be saying only nice things about me in that book of yours, or you and it are going into the brink."
"The beautiful, ruthless pirate queen who could steal the heart of the Maker himself? You'll live forever, Rivaini."
"I wish." Isabela smiles, shaking her head. "So long as I'm alive every moment, that's enough," she says quietly, more to herself than him.
Varric chuckles. "Do I catch the hint of a philosophy there, Rivaini?"
She grins. "What can I say? I like to keep men guessing. Go ashore, Paragon. The tide will turn sooner than you think."
"It always does," Varric mutters as he walks away. "Good line, though, I should remember that one."
His errands take some time; he has two contacts in this city, but hadn't ever met either of them in person, and one forgets the sign and countersign he'd so painstakingly set up years ago when developing his information network. Really, he can't get good people for love or money nowadays. Well, a lot of money, maybe.
His contacts don't have much news from Kirkwall; others have fled the city and arrived here, but not many, and all of them left either just before or at the same time they had. That's good, to Varric's mind; it means no one's caught up with them yet. On the other hand, it's frustrating to not know what's going on back there. He makes arrangements for information to spread over the coastline, and pays his contacts a great deal to ensure they'll keep silent about his whereabouts. He also lies and says they're on their way to Highever, in case all that money is wasted and they talk to the wrong people anyway. It's believable, and will help cause confusion. Varric is a great believer in the power of confusion.
It's hours before he gets back. When he returns, Isabela's standing pretty much where he left her and overseeing a number of truly huge barrels being rolled onboard. He juts his chin towards them. "What's in those?"
"Fresh water," she says absently, not really paying attention to him; she's distracted by her crew. "Move it, you lily-livered scumbags! Get those into the hold and get on-board, unless you want to be left here to rot!"
"Such charming language," Varric compliments her. He looks around; Merrill's climbed back up in the rigging, but he doesn't see any of the others. "How'd Blondie take the news that he wasn't allowed offship?"
Isabela grimaces. "Gloweringly. Some men are attractive when they glower. He's not one of them. I think I even caught a flicker of blue, but all he did stomp off without saying anything."
"Huh. From Blondie, not ranting is a bad sign."
"You're not kidding. I wish he and Hawke would just have their angry make-up sex and get it over with. I don't know why they're waiting, angry make-up sex is one of the best types there is."
So he's not the only one who's worried. Hardly surprising. The question is, will Hawke do anything about the situation or let it fester? Probably the latter. Not good. Their glorious leader's not going to be in any shape to lead anyone anywhere if she's ignoring her most immediate problem. This is going to require some thought. "Don't ask me, Rivaini. I'm a fighter, not a lover."
"Pull the other one, Paragon. I've read all your books."
"I know, it's very gratifying. One day I might even dedicate one to you."
Isabela laughs. "Now that's something to look forward to!"
Most of their companions aren't around, but Varric does notice someone unusual. Sitting on the opposite side of the ship, leaning against the wall, are what look to be a family: mother, father, a young boy, perhaps twelve years old. The parents look somewhere between worried and relieved, and the boy like he's perpetually annoyed. Varric would guess from the quality and style of their clothes that they're Kirkwall nobles, or were until recently. That's unexpected. "Who's the new group?"
"More people on the run. My guess is the kid's a mage and they're fleeing the Templars. They were able to pay to get on the fastest ship out of Kirkwall that night, but it foundered offshore." Isabela shrugs. "They're paying me handsomely to get them further away. Who am I to turn away a family in need?"
"Your altruism is an inspiration, Rivaini."
The last of the barrels is rolled on board, and Isabela gets distracted by directing the crew to cast off. Varric helpfully gets out of the way. As they set sail, he vaguely considers watching the shore disappear, but decides it'd be too depressing. Besides, he has more ink now. But as he approaches the door that leads to the cabins, it opens, and Anders steps out, scowling. "Am I allowed out yet?"
Varric holds up his hands. "Down, Blondie. You know no one here's trying to cage you."
"Could've fooled me." It comes out as a snarl, but Anders almost at once looks as though he regrets it. "Sorry, Varric. I don't mean to snap at you. It's just..." he trails off.
"Yeah, well, you haven't exactly been trustworthy lately, Blondie." Anders grimaces, silently acknowledging the point. "And this was for practical reasons," Varric continues. "Too unlikely you're anonymous here. Hawke didn't go ashore either."
Anders frowns, more in confusion this time than anger. "I...didn't realize that."
Varric grins. "We're wanted criminals, Blondie. Probably got prices on our heads and everything."
"That's nothing new." Anders suddenly catches sight of the family standing on the deck, and his eyes go wide. "What are they doing here?"
"Running like hell, same as us."
"That's Mikal's family," Anders murmurs. "I'm sure of it. He pointed them out to me once, asked me to keep an eye on his brother if anything happened to him. How did--"
It's at that moment that the boy, feeling someone's eyes on him, looks over. He immediately looks furious and jumps to his feet. "You!" he shouts. "You should be dead! How dare you still be alive after what you did?"
That gets everyone's attention, including the crew, and Anders takes a step backwards in shock. The boy's parents, flustered, are trying to calm their son down, but he's having none of it and his eyes are blazing.
The boy's mother leans down and whispers something frantically; the boy shakes his head in refusal. "I'm sure it's him! He did it, I was there, I heard him say he did it!" He whirls back towards Anders. "You took everything we had!" he shouts. "What safety mages had...there wasn't much of it, but at least there was some! Now there's none anywhere, because of you! My brother is dead because of you!" His hands are clenched, and any second now he's going to grab a weapon, any weapon, or attack Anders with his bare fists if he has to. Anders just stands, stricken and silent. Varric growls under his breath and reaches for Bianca, just in case.
And then Hawke is there.
She doesn't even have to do anything, that's what's so impressive. She just stands there, radiating...something. Even Varric has a hard time finding a word for it. It'd be intimidation if there was any threat, but there isn't. Heroism, maybe. Unlike many, Varric knows that real heroism is not romantic, even though he writes it to be. But it does command attention.
Her voice is low and impassive when she finally speaks. "Don't reach out for vengeance, kid. It'll reach back. And it's worse than darkspawn taint. It won't just poison you, it'll poison everything you care about."
It's perhaps the certitude that reaches through the boy's rage and silences him. His family pull him away, and finally, after a moment's reluctance, he goes, alternating angry stares at Anders and confused ones at Hawke. Hawke doesn't move, just watches him go. Only after the boy is safely out of sight does she turn to walk back up to the quarterdeck. As she passes Anders she pauses, and without looking at him, says quietly, "It'd probably be best for you to stay out of sight until they leave the ship."
Anders' eyes go wide; finally, he nods. Hawke returns to the quarterdeck, where Isabela has been watching all this. After a moment of looking after her, Anders flees back towards his own cabin.
Unless Varric's very much mistaken, which he rarely is, that's the first time Hawke's spoken to Anders since they left Kirkwall.
Next up, Bethany.