A Separate Path - Chapter Nine (Part Six)
Title: A Separate Path - Chapter Nine (Part Six)
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, Varric, Aveline
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic
Rating: PG-13
Taking days off to rest was much more enjoyable when he had someone to spend the day with, Anders had found. Being able to sleep in a decent bed meant he didn't need as much of it, so he was able to get a lot more done on the few days a month he closed the clinic completely. Restocking supplies was certainly easier when he had someone else to carry things-- or play pack mule, as Emma had put it, grinning at him over a stack of boxes.
They'd dropped everything off at his clinic just as the sun set and strolled back to the Hawke estate hand-in-hand, enjoying one of the first genuinely warm nights of spring. “I'm starving,” Anders announced as they turned the corner on to her street.
“Orana's probably got dinner waiting for us,” she said.
“Did you ever ask her if she knows how to make pie?” he asked. “And if she doesn’t, can you find someone to teach her to make pie?”
She grinned and shook her head. “You and your pie thing.”
“Pie is delicious. Also, sadly lacking in the Circle.” Anders stepped aside as Emma unlocked the door. She'd given him a full set of keys to the house weeks ago, but he still felt a little strange using them, especially if she was with him. “So did you ask?”
Emma pushed open the door and started to reply. Her words were lost in the shouting coming from the front room. “Maker's breath,” she muttered. “Why does everyone just walk into my house when I'm not home?”
“Um... because you told us we could?” Anders pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I was drunk. You can't hold that against me.”
He just chuckled and followed her across the entrance hall. Aveline and Isabela were stalking around the front room, both clearly spoiling for a fight. “Get off your high horse!” Isabela snapped. “I have problems too!”
Aveline scoffed and crossed her arms. “'What drink should I order next?' and 'Who's the father?'”
“Oh, you little--” Isabela drew her hand back to slap the guard captain.
“Are there any good seats left?” Emma asked, smiling menacingly at the women.
Anders half-turned towards the door. “Wait a minute, let me fetch Varric, he'll make a killing in ticket sales.”
Aveline strode past Isabela without a second glance. “Hawke-- the Arishok is sheltering fugitives who 'converted' to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them. He's already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law...” She sighed. “I need your help so this doesn't get out of hand.”
“I'm going to die!” Isabela announced. Beside him, Emma flinched, drawing in a sharp, quiet breath between her teeth. “There. Got your attention. Real problem.”
Anders shot Isabela an incredulous look over Emma's head. The pirate shrugged slightly. He shook his head and shot her a glare that clearly communicated 'we will discuss this later.' Emma heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “All right, I heard 'Arishok,' and 'die.' What's going on?”
“Remember the relic?” Isabela said. “The one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it.” She glanced back and forth between Emma and Anders. “If you help me get it, Castillon won't kill me. Please.”
“I'm trying to keep the entire city from rioting against the qunari!” Aveline protested.
Isabela looked down and scuffed one boot against the floor. “Well... maybe it's connected,” she said.
“What?” Aveline demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“How?” Emma asked.
“Why?” The women all turned to look at Anders; he shrugged. “Just keeping the pattern going,” he said with a grin. Aveline rolled her eyes so hard they seemed in danger of falling out of her skull.
Isabela sighed. “Look, it's important to someone, right? Maybe it can help.”
Emma let out a frustrated groan and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Isabela, you're certain this is your relic?” she asked. “I really don’t have the time for boots and poetry again...”
“I've had my ear to the ground for a while,” she said. “There was a description of the book. It's the right one.”
Anders narrowed his eyes at her. “Book?” he repeated. “You said you didn't know what the relic was. I distinctly remember you explaining how you'd resisted opening a box for once.”
Isbaela swallowed hard. “Well... I-I-I know it's a book,” she stammered. “But that's all I know! It's written in a foreign tongue. Honestly, what does it matter? It'll save me from Castillon, so I need it. Sam's trading it to some magisters tonight. We need to move quickly.”
You used to be a better liar than that, Izzy, Anders thought, frowning at her. Emma pressed a hand to her eyes. “Aveline?” she asked, waving vaguely at the guard captain with her other hand.
“The fugitives are elves accused of murder,” she said. “They've taken shelter with the qunari. If I let this stand-- who knows how many others will flout the law to escape justice?”
“This sounds like a job for your guards,” Emma said. “Quite a lot of them.”
Aveline shrugged. “It'll raise tensions if I go in with a full squadron,” she said. “But you're right. I'm the captain. It's my duty.” She sighed. “To be honest, I suspect the viscount was hoping I'd come to you with this.”
“He could have asked me himself.”
“You know he's in no state to be thinking that clearly,” Aveline replied. Saemus's funeral had been just five days ago. Anders hadn't gone, but Emma had. She'd been a bit of a mess when he'd gotten home that night.
Emma dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “These elves are still in the compound?” she asked.
Aveline nodded, then added “Yes,” when she realized Emma couldn't see her.
“And I assume you have guards watching the entrance.”
“Yes.”
Emma exhaled sharply and dropped her hands. “All right,” she said. “We'll deal with Isabela's problem first. That's a bit more pressing, it sounds like, and quite frankly, I just don't want one of my friends to meet her death because of man called 'Wall-Eyed Sam.'” Isabela grinned at her, shoulders slumped in relief. “Then we'll go deal with your murder suspects. Fair?”
Aveline nodded. “Very well, Hawke. I'll meet you outside the compound.” She marched to the front door and disappeared into the dark streets.
“Let me go get into armor,” Emma said, heading for the stairs. “Anders, eat something so you don't collapse while dueling a magister or something.”
He saluted at her, maintaining a smile through sheer force of will. As soon as her bedroom door closed, the grin vanished. He stepped forward and grabbed Isabela's arm. “What is wrong with you?” he hissed.
She blinked at him in bewilderment. “Anders, what--”
“One, it's pretty damn cold to throw your impending death in her face like that when it's been barely a month since her mother died,” he snapped.
Isabela blanched. “Oh, Maker's balls, I didn't even--”
“And two,” he continued, talking over her, “you've been lying to us about that damn relic this whole time, haven't you?”
She pulled her arm free and took a step back. “What does it matter?” she repeated. “I didn't want to bother you all with this any more than I had to.”
He rolled his eyes. “You dragged us halfway to Cumberland looking for this relic of yours, but telling us what it actually is would have been an undue burden?”
“Anders...” Isabela sighed and looked away. “It's complicated.” He raised his eyebrows and flashed her a wry smile. “Actually complicated, not pretend like the two of you,” she continued, waving a hand up at the balcony.
“Izzy--”
“Go get your food,” she cut in. “I don't want you passing out either.”
Anders shook his head, vowing to talk to her about this later, and headed for the kitchen. By the time he returned, two rolls in his stomach and another in his hand, plus an apple in his belt pouch for the walk, Emma was in the front room, armed and armored, tapping her foot impatiently. “We'll pick up Fenris on the way,” she said. “I think he'd cry if we went and killed magisters without him.”
“Probably,” Isabela agreed. “Let's hurry. It goes down in a Lowtown foundry in about an hour.”
*
Anders hadn't seen much of Fenris since the last time they'd gone hunting Tevinter magisters. He had been by the house a few times after Leandra's death, but they avoided any unnecessary interaction, like talking or looking at each other for too long.
“So when you find this book,” Fenris asked as they made their way to the Foundry district, “how do you intend to return it to Castillon?”
Isabela shrugged. “I know people,” she said. “I'll put the word out that I have it, he'll send someone to collect it, everything's fine.”
“Even after three years?” Emma asked. “You don't think he might be a bit put out?”
“Of course he will,” she replied testily. “Which is why I need to get it back to him as quickly as possible and then... lay low for a while, probably. He might still be out for blood just on principle, but this will help.” She managed a tense smile. “Castillon was always easily distracted by the sound of coin.”
“Well, when you get it--” Emma fell silent as they rounded a corner and nearly walked into a squad of qunari warriors, all heavily armed and quite angry. Assuming Anders was reading qunari body language correctly, which was a challenge on a good day.
“Halt!” The lead qunari stepped forward. “You will surrender the relic!”
Isabela huffed out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “I don't have your stupid relic,” she snapped.
“The bas has no honor. Kill her!”
Anders yelped and fell back a step, scrambling to get his staff, as the qunari attacked. Emma threw up her shield to block a blow even before she'd drawn her sword; Fenris flared blue-white and slashed his clawed gauntlets across a qunari's chest, leaving deep, bloody gashes.
“What in flames did you steal, Isabela?” Emma demanded as she drew her sword and sliced at her attacker in one smooth motion.
“Less questioning, more fighting!” the pirate shouted back, somersaulting behind a qunari. She sprang to her feet and sank her daggers into his back.
Anders gritted his teeth and sketched out a repulsion glyph around him. He really did not fancy an attempt at going hand-to-hand with a qunari solider. His momentary safety thus ensured, he summoned the energy for a tempest spell, electricity crackling around his arms. His concentration nearly broke when Emma came flying towards him, knocked off her feet by a charging warrior. She hit the invisible wall of the repulsion field, staggering on her feet but still managing to stay upright. She shook her head to clear it and launched herself back into the fray. Anders returned his attention to the fight and unleashed the spell, lightning bolts striking throughout the courtyard.
That seemed enough to turn the tide-- with the qunari disabled for even a few moments, the others were able to strike crippling or killing blows. Anders turned his attention to healing, closing up the cuts and gashes that would slow them down otherwise. After that, it was just clean up.
Emma spat a mouthful of blood to the ground and rounded on Isabela. “So, if the Arishok asks why we killed his men, should we just say it was an accident?” she snapped.
“Er... yes. About that.” Isabela finished wiping her blades clean on a fresh qunari corpse and stood. “The relic belongs to the qunari, and there's a small chance they want it back.”
Anders looked around at the bodies. “You don't say.”
“Do the qunari look like the sharing type to you?” Emma demanded, voice going up an octave in disbelief. “Of course they want it back!”
“I've always known what the relic is,” Isabela admitted. “I just didn't want to... worry you.”
Fenris folded his arms over his chest. “So what is this relic, exactly?”
“It's a Qunari text handwritten by that philosopher of theirs-- Keslan, Cousland... whatever his name is.”
The elf made a choking sound. “Koslun?” he asked, eyes wide.
Isabela smiled and nodded. “That's the one!”
“The founder of their religion, the most revered being in their history? That text would be sacred beyond measure.”
Anders found himself torn between admiration for Isabela's skills and ambition, and the powerful urge to grab her by the shoulders and attempt to shake some sense into her. She glanced around at the three of them and sighed. “And valuable almost beyond measure as well,” she said. “I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it, and it's why they're still here in Kirkwall.”
Complete silence followed that announcement. “So let me get this straight,” Anders said, apparently the first to recover his voice amid the shock. “Everything that's happened the past few months-- the past few years-- is because you stole their holy book. The poison gas, Petrice, Saemus, all of that...” Is your fault. The words hung in the air, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say it. She was one of his best friends; he couldn't just lay the blame for all this at her feet, even if it might have belonged there.
“If they get the relic back, they'll leave?” Emma asked faintly.
“And I'll die!” Isabela said angrily. “Let them chase Castillon for it, that'll get them out of Kirkwall just the same. The book's right in this building, I'm not letting it slip away again!” She took a step towards them, hands held out imploringly. “It's the only thing that'll save my skin. Please tell me you'll give it to me.”
Emma shook her head. “It's going back to the qunari,” she said. “It's the only thing that might stop a full-out war at this point.”
Isabela stared at her in shock. “And it’s the only thing that'll keep Castillon from feeding me to the sharks! I can't believe you're-- ugh!” She threw her hands in the air and turned away. After a moment, she heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “You're right. I'll return the relic. It'll go straight to the qunari when we get it.”
Anders narrowed his eyes at her. That seemed too easy, but... well, Isabela had been in Kirkwall just as long as the rest of them. She'd seen what had happened to the city. She had just as much of stake in keeping it from burning to the ground.
“Come on,” Isabela said, turning towards the foundry. “We've got no time to waste.”
*
Emma had been out the door after Isabela before the last magister's body hit the floor. Anders and Fenris were a bit slower, especially considering the lengthy gash in Fenris's leg. He refused to hold still for healing, leaving bloody footprints for Anders to chase after.
Blood was still pooling under Sam's body in the courtyard. Isabela and the tome were nowhere in sight. Emma knelt by the corpse, a scrap of parchment in her hand, staring at it in dull shock. “I am going to kill her,” she said in a flat monotone. “I'm going to kill that lying bitch!” The monotone broke into a furious snarl on the last word, and she slammed her fist against the ground.
Fenris leaned down and plucked the letter from Emma's hand, immediately passing it back to Anders. It seemed a bit strange, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass him by; Anders took the letter in one hand and carefully grabbed Fenris's wrist in the other, pouring healing magic into him as he read.
Dear Hawke Fen An
My friends,
I have the relic, and I am gone. I've lost too much over this blighted thing to let it go again. I know it would be noble to return the relic to the Qunari, but that would require a better soul than I possess.
For what it's worth, I'm sorry I lied to you again.
Isabela
Fenris yanked his hand free and stomped off a few paces, looking surly, as always. “Oh, Izzy,” Anders breathed.
“Kill her,” Emma repeated as she got to her feet. “We could have ended this tonight! I'd have-- Maker, didn't she know we'd have helped her deal with Castillon? If I can take on-- on blighted magisters and Templars and Maker-knows what else, I can handle a damn pirate!” She looked over at Anders. “Why would she do that? How could she just leave?”
Anders shrugged. A few years ago, in her place, it was exactly what he'd have done. Isabela didn't have nearly as much holding her in Kirkwall. “We should get to the compound,” he suggested.
“Flames.” She let out a sharp breath. “You're right. Maybe we can salvage this. Somehow.”
She turned towards the stairs. Anders followed, halfway listening for Fenris's footsteps to see if he was still limping. No sound came. He turned back to see the elf staring at the ground, face hidden in shadow, hands clenched into fists.
“You coming?” he called.
Fenris looked up and glared at him. “Of course,” he snarled and stormed towards him. Anders waited until he'd passed to keep walking again. It didn't seem wise to turn his back to Fenris when he was in that kind of mood.
*
Waiting outside the qunari compound while Emma and Aveline tried to negotiate with the Arishok would have been unpleasant in any circumstances, but having to do so with an increasingly angry Fenris was just cruelty on someone's part. Anders wasn't sure if he should blame Emma, the Maker, or Isabela. Probably Isabela. She seemed to be responsible for most everything else going wrong in the past hour, why not lay Fenris's foul temper on her as well?
Anders heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, watching Fenris pace back and forth across the road. The qunari guards seemed to be ignoring them for the moment, which was just fine, as far as he was concerned. He glanced up at the night sky and sighed. Hopefully this wouldn't take too long. Between skipping dinner and fighting in the streets again, he was starving. It'd be nice to just go home and--
A scream from inside the compound broke into his thoughts. Anders jerked upright and whirled around at the unfortunately familiar sound of qunari spears whistling through the air. Shouting and the clatter of steel on steel followed. Emma--
He took two steps towards the gates, staff in hand, only to find the way blocked by a trio of qunari. One of them hefted a spear to his shoulder; Anders responded with a barrage of lightning. Something flew past on his left, and moments later, blood spattered across the stone from a gaping wound in the qunari's chest. Fenris swung his sword around and slashed at the other soldiers-- but there were more of them, pouring out of the gates, and oh, Maker, she's still in there, I have to--
He cast a paralysis glyph near the gates to delay any further attackers and swung his staff around in a wide arc, lashing out with a blast of cold. The qunari slowed slightly, continuing to close in on him. “Shit,” he hissed, shifting his grip on his staff to better use the bladed end for close-quarters combat. He wasn't a battle mage, he'd never trained that way, the lightning and frost spells were almost afterthoughts compared to his healing, which was why he always traveled with several heavily armed and armored warriors...
One of the qunari suddenly sprouted half a broadsword from his chest. Anders hit the other two with lightning and lunged forward, dragging the bladed end of his staff across the warriors' torsos. It did little more than scratch them. “Fall back,” Fenris snapped as the soldier he'd just impaled collapsed.
Anders shook his head and dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a spear to the shoulder. “I'm not leaving without her!”
“You're no good to her dead!” Fenris swung his sword low, hamstringing one of the remaining soldiers. Anders hit the other with a blast of ice to the face. “I swear to you, mage, if you die on her I will find some way to follow you into the Fade and kill you again! Fall. Back!”
He cast a last look at the compound. “Dammit,” he swore. The third qunari fell to the ground, bleeding, and Fenris made a break for the stairs to Lowtown. Anders hurled another blast of lighting at the gate and ran after him.
It was exactly the wrong way to go. The streets were full of screaming citizens and guards struggling to defend them as the qunari attacked. Fenris ducked into an alleyway one street south of the Hanged Man; Anders followed, throwing himself against the wall and gasping for breath. “Now what?” he snapped, glaring at Fenris.
The elf shook his head. “Where would Hawke go now?”
“Flames, I don't know-- wherever the trouble was worst, knowing her--”
Ka-chunk! “Ha! One more for the dwarf!”
Anders and Fenris exchanged a look of relief. He pushed off the wall and swung back into the street, staff held out defensively in front of him. Varric was standing on top of a pile of crates, firing bolts into any qunari who came within his line of sight. “Varric!” Anders shouted, waving a hand at him to get his attention.
Varric nodded and got off another two shots before hopping down and jogging over, reloading Bianca as he went. “Andraste's knickers, Varric, I could just about kiss you right now,” Anders said.
“I wouldn't, Hawke's a jealous woman,” Varric replied automatically, “and where is she, by the way?”
“She and Aveline were in the compound when all this started,” Anders said, looking back towards the stairs. “We had to-- we had to fall back.” Guilt twisted his stomach. If she was dead, he was going to find a sword and fall on it right there. He'd never be able to live with himself if she was--
His mind skittered away from the thought. Varric must have worked out some of it, though, because he reached out and patted Anders's arm. “She'll be fine,” he said. “They both will.”
“We need to find--”
Shouts echoed through the streets, too distant to make out words but just close enough to recognize the voices. Anders spun around, trying to figure out where they were. “C'mon, Blondie,” Varric said and took off at a run. He swung around a corner, revealing one of the smaller staircases connecting Lowtown and the Docks. A few qunari corpses were sprawled on the stairs, and standing over them--
“Emma!” Anders bolted towards her. She met him halfway, throwing her unshielded arm around him in a crushing embrace. “Oh, thank the Maker, I thought--”
“--there was so much blood and you were just gone and I--”
“--I'm sorry, there were too many, we had to-”
“Touching as this moment is,” Varric cut in, “we do have something of a crisis on our hands.”
Anders let her go reluctantly. Emma didn't go far, standing close enough that her arm brushed against his. “Right,” she said. “Uh, to make a long story short, the Arishok finally snapped--”
“You weren't much help there, Hawke,” Aveline said, glaring. “You were supposed to help me arrest a pair of murderers, and instead you told the Arishok that they were right!”
Emma glowered back. “If it had been Bethany you damn well better believe I'd have killed someone,” she snapped. “Over the course of several days, I imagine.”
“You can't just-”
“Not the time!” Varric shouted. Everyone fell silent and stared at him. He gestured at Emma. “What now?”
“Flames, I don't know,” she said. “We can't really bloody well run for the hills now, can we.”
“Tempting, but you're probably right,” he agreed.
Aveline folded her arms. “The qunari are attacking the city, and fast,” she said. “The Arishok's been planning this for who knows how long.” She gestured at the stairs. “We should head to the Keep to rally the guardsmen.”
Emma nodded. “Right. This is going to be... unpleasant.”
*
Aveline left them halfway to Hightown, after they found Donnic rallying a group of guardsmen against the qunari. They'd split up to cover more ground, looking for more guards or mercenaries, anyone they could conscript into the fight.
“We shouldn't do this anymore,” Varric commented, wincing with every breath, as Anders rapidly tried to heal his broken ribs. They'd paused halfway up the steps to the Hightown market as soon as Anders had realized the dwarf could barely breathe.
“Do what?” Emma asked absently, her attention mostly focused on scanning the area around them for rogue bands of marauding qunari.
“Go on adventures. Missions. Quests. Whatever. The four of us--” he waved a hand at them, “always find the worst sort of trouble.”
She smiled mirthlessly. “I think trouble finds us,” she commented. “I certainly don't go looking for it.”
Varric laughed, then groaned in pain. “By the stone, you don't,” he said. “You're running around with an escaped slave and an apostate, not to mention a blood mage and a pirate--”
Emma's face darkened. “Pirate's gone,” she snapped.
Anders drew his hands back from Varric's chest. “Better?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks-- what happened to Rivaini?”
Emma shook her head. “Later,” she said. “Come on. We're getting close.”
Someone screamed in the square above them. Emma and Fenris charged up the stairs, weapons at the ready. Anders pulled Varric to his feet and followed, ignoring the stabbing pain in his legs and the exhaustion pushing in on his mind. He was running on adrenaline and lyrium at this point, and he knew he'd be paying for it in the morning. And the morning after that, probably.
The qunari soldiers turned on them as soon as they reached the square. Anders channeled mana through himself to the others, giving them just a little more speed, a little more strength, any advantage he could manage at this point. He could feel himself hitting the end of his reserves and blindly fumbled for a lyrium potion. Only two left. That did not bode well for--
The explosion shook the square, throwing him into a pillar. His head smacked against the stone, and black spots danced across his vision as he hit the ground. Anders groaned, blinking, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A qunari mage, summoning glowing fistfuls of raw energy, a spell he'd never seen before... Anders struggled to get up, but his legs wouldn't obey. Maker, no, no no no, not like this, not now, no--
Blood splattered across the stone, the bright red breaking through the grey fog settling into Anders's vision. He drew in a deep breath and pushed himself up to his knees just in time to see a woman in armor neatly decapitate the qunari.
“I am Knight-Commander Meredith,” the woman said, offering her hand to Emma, and Anders froze in place. Of all the rescuers in the city, they'd get the one person who wanted him imprisoned or dead. How typical.
Meredith narrowed her eyes at Emma. “I know you,” she said. “The name 'Hawke' has turned up in my reports many times.” Her gaze shifted to Anders. “Too many.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to stare back. He was scared, yes, but he'd be damned if he let her see it.
“Is that so?” Emma asked, somehow sounding calm and a little sarcastic, as she walked over to help Anders to his feet. She squeezed his hand and nodded, once, then turned back to Meredith, deliberately placing herself between the Knight-Commander and him.
Anders found himself having to resist the urge to drop back to his knees and ask her to marry him.
“Thank you for the help,” Emma continued blithely. “The qunari are--”
“It's obvious what they're doing,” Meredith cut in. “The qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them.”
Emma frowned. “Why would they be taking hostages?”
“They're taking everyone of import and putting them in the same place,” Fenris said. “Those that convert, live. Those that don't...”
“Charming,” Emma and Meredith said simultaneously. Both women shot each other looks of matching shock and annoyance. “Right, never using that again,” Emma muttered darkly, then shook her head. “Well, I'm always happy to help in a life-threatening crisis,” she said with a bright grin. “It's more or less how I make a living.”
“I'm aware.” Meredith's gaze flickered back up to him. “I will overlook your choice in companions-- for the moment.” Icy fear shot through him, and Anders choked back the instinct to run, far and fast. “Head to the Keep, and I will see if I can find more of my men. These creatures will pay for this outrage.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched off.
As soon as she was out of sight, Emma spun around and grabbed his arms. Anders sagged back against the pillar, gasping for breath. “She knows,” he muttered. “She knows, I have-- we have to--”
“Anders,” she said, digging her fingers in a little. “It's going to be okay, love. All right?” She put one hand on the back of his neck and pulled his head down towards her. “I will not let them take you,” she said. “I swear. I don't care who she is or what she's done, I will kill her myself if she tries to take you from me.”
He drew in one shaky breath, then another, and then nodded. “Just so long as you let me help,” he replied with a weak smile.
She smiled back. “That's my man.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then released him and turned around. “Let's move.”
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, Varric, Aveline
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic
Rating: PG-13
Taking days off to rest was much more enjoyable when he had someone to spend the day with, Anders had found. Being able to sleep in a decent bed meant he didn't need as much of it, so he was able to get a lot more done on the few days a month he closed the clinic completely. Restocking supplies was certainly easier when he had someone else to carry things-- or play pack mule, as Emma had put it, grinning at him over a stack of boxes.
They'd dropped everything off at his clinic just as the sun set and strolled back to the Hawke estate hand-in-hand, enjoying one of the first genuinely warm nights of spring. “I'm starving,” Anders announced as they turned the corner on to her street.
“Orana's probably got dinner waiting for us,” she said.
“Did you ever ask her if she knows how to make pie?” he asked. “And if she doesn’t, can you find someone to teach her to make pie?”
She grinned and shook her head. “You and your pie thing.”
“Pie is delicious. Also, sadly lacking in the Circle.” Anders stepped aside as Emma unlocked the door. She'd given him a full set of keys to the house weeks ago, but he still felt a little strange using them, especially if she was with him. “So did you ask?”
Emma pushed open the door and started to reply. Her words were lost in the shouting coming from the front room. “Maker's breath,” she muttered. “Why does everyone just walk into my house when I'm not home?”
“Um... because you told us we could?” Anders pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I was drunk. You can't hold that against me.”
He just chuckled and followed her across the entrance hall. Aveline and Isabela were stalking around the front room, both clearly spoiling for a fight. “Get off your high horse!” Isabela snapped. “I have problems too!”
Aveline scoffed and crossed her arms. “'What drink should I order next?' and 'Who's the father?'”
“Oh, you little--” Isabela drew her hand back to slap the guard captain.
“Are there any good seats left?” Emma asked, smiling menacingly at the women.
Anders half-turned towards the door. “Wait a minute, let me fetch Varric, he'll make a killing in ticket sales.”
Aveline strode past Isabela without a second glance. “Hawke-- the Arishok is sheltering fugitives who 'converted' to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them. He's already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law...” She sighed. “I need your help so this doesn't get out of hand.”
“I'm going to die!” Isabela announced. Beside him, Emma flinched, drawing in a sharp, quiet breath between her teeth. “There. Got your attention. Real problem.”
Anders shot Isabela an incredulous look over Emma's head. The pirate shrugged slightly. He shook his head and shot her a glare that clearly communicated 'we will discuss this later.' Emma heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “All right, I heard 'Arishok,' and 'die.' What's going on?”
“Remember the relic?” Isabela said. “The one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it.” She glanced back and forth between Emma and Anders. “If you help me get it, Castillon won't kill me. Please.”
“I'm trying to keep the entire city from rioting against the qunari!” Aveline protested.
Isabela looked down and scuffed one boot against the floor. “Well... maybe it's connected,” she said.
“What?” Aveline demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“How?” Emma asked.
“Why?” The women all turned to look at Anders; he shrugged. “Just keeping the pattern going,” he said with a grin. Aveline rolled her eyes so hard they seemed in danger of falling out of her skull.
Isabela sighed. “Look, it's important to someone, right? Maybe it can help.”
Emma let out a frustrated groan and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Isabela, you're certain this is your relic?” she asked. “I really don’t have the time for boots and poetry again...”
“I've had my ear to the ground for a while,” she said. “There was a description of the book. It's the right one.”
Anders narrowed his eyes at her. “Book?” he repeated. “You said you didn't know what the relic was. I distinctly remember you explaining how you'd resisted opening a box for once.”
Isbaela swallowed hard. “Well... I-I-I know it's a book,” she stammered. “But that's all I know! It's written in a foreign tongue. Honestly, what does it matter? It'll save me from Castillon, so I need it. Sam's trading it to some magisters tonight. We need to move quickly.”
You used to be a better liar than that, Izzy, Anders thought, frowning at her. Emma pressed a hand to her eyes. “Aveline?” she asked, waving vaguely at the guard captain with her other hand.
“The fugitives are elves accused of murder,” she said. “They've taken shelter with the qunari. If I let this stand-- who knows how many others will flout the law to escape justice?”
“This sounds like a job for your guards,” Emma said. “Quite a lot of them.”
Aveline shrugged. “It'll raise tensions if I go in with a full squadron,” she said. “But you're right. I'm the captain. It's my duty.” She sighed. “To be honest, I suspect the viscount was hoping I'd come to you with this.”
“He could have asked me himself.”
“You know he's in no state to be thinking that clearly,” Aveline replied. Saemus's funeral had been just five days ago. Anders hadn't gone, but Emma had. She'd been a bit of a mess when he'd gotten home that night.
Emma dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “These elves are still in the compound?” she asked.
Aveline nodded, then added “Yes,” when she realized Emma couldn't see her.
“And I assume you have guards watching the entrance.”
“Yes.”
Emma exhaled sharply and dropped her hands. “All right,” she said. “We'll deal with Isabela's problem first. That's a bit more pressing, it sounds like, and quite frankly, I just don't want one of my friends to meet her death because of man called 'Wall-Eyed Sam.'” Isabela grinned at her, shoulders slumped in relief. “Then we'll go deal with your murder suspects. Fair?”
Aveline nodded. “Very well, Hawke. I'll meet you outside the compound.” She marched to the front door and disappeared into the dark streets.
“Let me go get into armor,” Emma said, heading for the stairs. “Anders, eat something so you don't collapse while dueling a magister or something.”
He saluted at her, maintaining a smile through sheer force of will. As soon as her bedroom door closed, the grin vanished. He stepped forward and grabbed Isabela's arm. “What is wrong with you?” he hissed.
She blinked at him in bewilderment. “Anders, what--”
“One, it's pretty damn cold to throw your impending death in her face like that when it's been barely a month since her mother died,” he snapped.
Isabela blanched. “Oh, Maker's balls, I didn't even--”
“And two,” he continued, talking over her, “you've been lying to us about that damn relic this whole time, haven't you?”
She pulled her arm free and took a step back. “What does it matter?” she repeated. “I didn't want to bother you all with this any more than I had to.”
He rolled his eyes. “You dragged us halfway to Cumberland looking for this relic of yours, but telling us what it actually is would have been an undue burden?”
“Anders...” Isabela sighed and looked away. “It's complicated.” He raised his eyebrows and flashed her a wry smile. “Actually complicated, not pretend like the two of you,” she continued, waving a hand up at the balcony.
“Izzy--”
“Go get your food,” she cut in. “I don't want you passing out either.”
Anders shook his head, vowing to talk to her about this later, and headed for the kitchen. By the time he returned, two rolls in his stomach and another in his hand, plus an apple in his belt pouch for the walk, Emma was in the front room, armed and armored, tapping her foot impatiently. “We'll pick up Fenris on the way,” she said. “I think he'd cry if we went and killed magisters without him.”
“Probably,” Isabela agreed. “Let's hurry. It goes down in a Lowtown foundry in about an hour.”
*
Anders hadn't seen much of Fenris since the last time they'd gone hunting Tevinter magisters. He had been by the house a few times after Leandra's death, but they avoided any unnecessary interaction, like talking or looking at each other for too long.
“So when you find this book,” Fenris asked as they made their way to the Foundry district, “how do you intend to return it to Castillon?”
Isabela shrugged. “I know people,” she said. “I'll put the word out that I have it, he'll send someone to collect it, everything's fine.”
“Even after three years?” Emma asked. “You don't think he might be a bit put out?”
“Of course he will,” she replied testily. “Which is why I need to get it back to him as quickly as possible and then... lay low for a while, probably. He might still be out for blood just on principle, but this will help.” She managed a tense smile. “Castillon was always easily distracted by the sound of coin.”
“Well, when you get it--” Emma fell silent as they rounded a corner and nearly walked into a squad of qunari warriors, all heavily armed and quite angry. Assuming Anders was reading qunari body language correctly, which was a challenge on a good day.
“Halt!” The lead qunari stepped forward. “You will surrender the relic!”
Isabela huffed out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “I don't have your stupid relic,” she snapped.
“The bas has no honor. Kill her!”
Anders yelped and fell back a step, scrambling to get his staff, as the qunari attacked. Emma threw up her shield to block a blow even before she'd drawn her sword; Fenris flared blue-white and slashed his clawed gauntlets across a qunari's chest, leaving deep, bloody gashes.
“What in flames did you steal, Isabela?” Emma demanded as she drew her sword and sliced at her attacker in one smooth motion.
“Less questioning, more fighting!” the pirate shouted back, somersaulting behind a qunari. She sprang to her feet and sank her daggers into his back.
Anders gritted his teeth and sketched out a repulsion glyph around him. He really did not fancy an attempt at going hand-to-hand with a qunari solider. His momentary safety thus ensured, he summoned the energy for a tempest spell, electricity crackling around his arms. His concentration nearly broke when Emma came flying towards him, knocked off her feet by a charging warrior. She hit the invisible wall of the repulsion field, staggering on her feet but still managing to stay upright. She shook her head to clear it and launched herself back into the fray. Anders returned his attention to the fight and unleashed the spell, lightning bolts striking throughout the courtyard.
That seemed enough to turn the tide-- with the qunari disabled for even a few moments, the others were able to strike crippling or killing blows. Anders turned his attention to healing, closing up the cuts and gashes that would slow them down otherwise. After that, it was just clean up.
Emma spat a mouthful of blood to the ground and rounded on Isabela. “So, if the Arishok asks why we killed his men, should we just say it was an accident?” she snapped.
“Er... yes. About that.” Isabela finished wiping her blades clean on a fresh qunari corpse and stood. “The relic belongs to the qunari, and there's a small chance they want it back.”
Anders looked around at the bodies. “You don't say.”
“Do the qunari look like the sharing type to you?” Emma demanded, voice going up an octave in disbelief. “Of course they want it back!”
“I've always known what the relic is,” Isabela admitted. “I just didn't want to... worry you.”
Fenris folded his arms over his chest. “So what is this relic, exactly?”
“It's a Qunari text handwritten by that philosopher of theirs-- Keslan, Cousland... whatever his name is.”
The elf made a choking sound. “Koslun?” he asked, eyes wide.
Isabela smiled and nodded. “That's the one!”
“The founder of their religion, the most revered being in their history? That text would be sacred beyond measure.”
Anders found himself torn between admiration for Isabela's skills and ambition, and the powerful urge to grab her by the shoulders and attempt to shake some sense into her. She glanced around at the three of them and sighed. “And valuable almost beyond measure as well,” she said. “I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it, and it's why they're still here in Kirkwall.”
Complete silence followed that announcement. “So let me get this straight,” Anders said, apparently the first to recover his voice amid the shock. “Everything that's happened the past few months-- the past few years-- is because you stole their holy book. The poison gas, Petrice, Saemus, all of that...” Is your fault. The words hung in the air, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say it. She was one of his best friends; he couldn't just lay the blame for all this at her feet, even if it might have belonged there.
“If they get the relic back, they'll leave?” Emma asked faintly.
“And I'll die!” Isabela said angrily. “Let them chase Castillon for it, that'll get them out of Kirkwall just the same. The book's right in this building, I'm not letting it slip away again!” She took a step towards them, hands held out imploringly. “It's the only thing that'll save my skin. Please tell me you'll give it to me.”
Emma shook her head. “It's going back to the qunari,” she said. “It's the only thing that might stop a full-out war at this point.”
Isabela stared at her in shock. “And it’s the only thing that'll keep Castillon from feeding me to the sharks! I can't believe you're-- ugh!” She threw her hands in the air and turned away. After a moment, she heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “You're right. I'll return the relic. It'll go straight to the qunari when we get it.”
Anders narrowed his eyes at her. That seemed too easy, but... well, Isabela had been in Kirkwall just as long as the rest of them. She'd seen what had happened to the city. She had just as much of stake in keeping it from burning to the ground.
“Come on,” Isabela said, turning towards the foundry. “We've got no time to waste.”
*
Emma had been out the door after Isabela before the last magister's body hit the floor. Anders and Fenris were a bit slower, especially considering the lengthy gash in Fenris's leg. He refused to hold still for healing, leaving bloody footprints for Anders to chase after.
Blood was still pooling under Sam's body in the courtyard. Isabela and the tome were nowhere in sight. Emma knelt by the corpse, a scrap of parchment in her hand, staring at it in dull shock. “I am going to kill her,” she said in a flat monotone. “I'm going to kill that lying bitch!” The monotone broke into a furious snarl on the last word, and she slammed her fist against the ground.
Fenris leaned down and plucked the letter from Emma's hand, immediately passing it back to Anders. It seemed a bit strange, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass him by; Anders took the letter in one hand and carefully grabbed Fenris's wrist in the other, pouring healing magic into him as he read.
Dear Hawke Fen An
My friends,
I have the relic, and I am gone. I've lost too much over this blighted thing to let it go again. I know it would be noble to return the relic to the Qunari, but that would require a better soul than I possess.
For what it's worth, I'm sorry I lied to you again.
Isabela
Fenris yanked his hand free and stomped off a few paces, looking surly, as always. “Oh, Izzy,” Anders breathed.
“Kill her,” Emma repeated as she got to her feet. “We could have ended this tonight! I'd have-- Maker, didn't she know we'd have helped her deal with Castillon? If I can take on-- on blighted magisters and Templars and Maker-knows what else, I can handle a damn pirate!” She looked over at Anders. “Why would she do that? How could she just leave?”
Anders shrugged. A few years ago, in her place, it was exactly what he'd have done. Isabela didn't have nearly as much holding her in Kirkwall. “We should get to the compound,” he suggested.
“Flames.” She let out a sharp breath. “You're right. Maybe we can salvage this. Somehow.”
She turned towards the stairs. Anders followed, halfway listening for Fenris's footsteps to see if he was still limping. No sound came. He turned back to see the elf staring at the ground, face hidden in shadow, hands clenched into fists.
“You coming?” he called.
Fenris looked up and glared at him. “Of course,” he snarled and stormed towards him. Anders waited until he'd passed to keep walking again. It didn't seem wise to turn his back to Fenris when he was in that kind of mood.
*
Waiting outside the qunari compound while Emma and Aveline tried to negotiate with the Arishok would have been unpleasant in any circumstances, but having to do so with an increasingly angry Fenris was just cruelty on someone's part. Anders wasn't sure if he should blame Emma, the Maker, or Isabela. Probably Isabela. She seemed to be responsible for most everything else going wrong in the past hour, why not lay Fenris's foul temper on her as well?
Anders heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, watching Fenris pace back and forth across the road. The qunari guards seemed to be ignoring them for the moment, which was just fine, as far as he was concerned. He glanced up at the night sky and sighed. Hopefully this wouldn't take too long. Between skipping dinner and fighting in the streets again, he was starving. It'd be nice to just go home and--
A scream from inside the compound broke into his thoughts. Anders jerked upright and whirled around at the unfortunately familiar sound of qunari spears whistling through the air. Shouting and the clatter of steel on steel followed. Emma--
He took two steps towards the gates, staff in hand, only to find the way blocked by a trio of qunari. One of them hefted a spear to his shoulder; Anders responded with a barrage of lightning. Something flew past on his left, and moments later, blood spattered across the stone from a gaping wound in the qunari's chest. Fenris swung his sword around and slashed at the other soldiers-- but there were more of them, pouring out of the gates, and oh, Maker, she's still in there, I have to--
He cast a paralysis glyph near the gates to delay any further attackers and swung his staff around in a wide arc, lashing out with a blast of cold. The qunari slowed slightly, continuing to close in on him. “Shit,” he hissed, shifting his grip on his staff to better use the bladed end for close-quarters combat. He wasn't a battle mage, he'd never trained that way, the lightning and frost spells were almost afterthoughts compared to his healing, which was why he always traveled with several heavily armed and armored warriors...
One of the qunari suddenly sprouted half a broadsword from his chest. Anders hit the other two with lightning and lunged forward, dragging the bladed end of his staff across the warriors' torsos. It did little more than scratch them. “Fall back,” Fenris snapped as the soldier he'd just impaled collapsed.
Anders shook his head and dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a spear to the shoulder. “I'm not leaving without her!”
“You're no good to her dead!” Fenris swung his sword low, hamstringing one of the remaining soldiers. Anders hit the other with a blast of ice to the face. “I swear to you, mage, if you die on her I will find some way to follow you into the Fade and kill you again! Fall. Back!”
He cast a last look at the compound. “Dammit,” he swore. The third qunari fell to the ground, bleeding, and Fenris made a break for the stairs to Lowtown. Anders hurled another blast of lighting at the gate and ran after him.
It was exactly the wrong way to go. The streets were full of screaming citizens and guards struggling to defend them as the qunari attacked. Fenris ducked into an alleyway one street south of the Hanged Man; Anders followed, throwing himself against the wall and gasping for breath. “Now what?” he snapped, glaring at Fenris.
The elf shook his head. “Where would Hawke go now?”
“Flames, I don't know-- wherever the trouble was worst, knowing her--”
Ka-chunk! “Ha! One more for the dwarf!”
Anders and Fenris exchanged a look of relief. He pushed off the wall and swung back into the street, staff held out defensively in front of him. Varric was standing on top of a pile of crates, firing bolts into any qunari who came within his line of sight. “Varric!” Anders shouted, waving a hand at him to get his attention.
Varric nodded and got off another two shots before hopping down and jogging over, reloading Bianca as he went. “Andraste's knickers, Varric, I could just about kiss you right now,” Anders said.
“I wouldn't, Hawke's a jealous woman,” Varric replied automatically, “and where is she, by the way?”
“She and Aveline were in the compound when all this started,” Anders said, looking back towards the stairs. “We had to-- we had to fall back.” Guilt twisted his stomach. If she was dead, he was going to find a sword and fall on it right there. He'd never be able to live with himself if she was--
His mind skittered away from the thought. Varric must have worked out some of it, though, because he reached out and patted Anders's arm. “She'll be fine,” he said. “They both will.”
“We need to find--”
Shouts echoed through the streets, too distant to make out words but just close enough to recognize the voices. Anders spun around, trying to figure out where they were. “C'mon, Blondie,” Varric said and took off at a run. He swung around a corner, revealing one of the smaller staircases connecting Lowtown and the Docks. A few qunari corpses were sprawled on the stairs, and standing over them--
“Emma!” Anders bolted towards her. She met him halfway, throwing her unshielded arm around him in a crushing embrace. “Oh, thank the Maker, I thought--”
“--there was so much blood and you were just gone and I--”
“--I'm sorry, there were too many, we had to-”
“Touching as this moment is,” Varric cut in, “we do have something of a crisis on our hands.”
Anders let her go reluctantly. Emma didn't go far, standing close enough that her arm brushed against his. “Right,” she said. “Uh, to make a long story short, the Arishok finally snapped--”
“You weren't much help there, Hawke,” Aveline said, glaring. “You were supposed to help me arrest a pair of murderers, and instead you told the Arishok that they were right!”
Emma glowered back. “If it had been Bethany you damn well better believe I'd have killed someone,” she snapped. “Over the course of several days, I imagine.”
“You can't just-”
“Not the time!” Varric shouted. Everyone fell silent and stared at him. He gestured at Emma. “What now?”
“Flames, I don't know,” she said. “We can't really bloody well run for the hills now, can we.”
“Tempting, but you're probably right,” he agreed.
Aveline folded her arms. “The qunari are attacking the city, and fast,” she said. “The Arishok's been planning this for who knows how long.” She gestured at the stairs. “We should head to the Keep to rally the guardsmen.”
Emma nodded. “Right. This is going to be... unpleasant.”
*
Aveline left them halfway to Hightown, after they found Donnic rallying a group of guardsmen against the qunari. They'd split up to cover more ground, looking for more guards or mercenaries, anyone they could conscript into the fight.
“We shouldn't do this anymore,” Varric commented, wincing with every breath, as Anders rapidly tried to heal his broken ribs. They'd paused halfway up the steps to the Hightown market as soon as Anders had realized the dwarf could barely breathe.
“Do what?” Emma asked absently, her attention mostly focused on scanning the area around them for rogue bands of marauding qunari.
“Go on adventures. Missions. Quests. Whatever. The four of us--” he waved a hand at them, “always find the worst sort of trouble.”
She smiled mirthlessly. “I think trouble finds us,” she commented. “I certainly don't go looking for it.”
Varric laughed, then groaned in pain. “By the stone, you don't,” he said. “You're running around with an escaped slave and an apostate, not to mention a blood mage and a pirate--”
Emma's face darkened. “Pirate's gone,” she snapped.
Anders drew his hands back from Varric's chest. “Better?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks-- what happened to Rivaini?”
Emma shook her head. “Later,” she said. “Come on. We're getting close.”
Someone screamed in the square above them. Emma and Fenris charged up the stairs, weapons at the ready. Anders pulled Varric to his feet and followed, ignoring the stabbing pain in his legs and the exhaustion pushing in on his mind. He was running on adrenaline and lyrium at this point, and he knew he'd be paying for it in the morning. And the morning after that, probably.
The qunari soldiers turned on them as soon as they reached the square. Anders channeled mana through himself to the others, giving them just a little more speed, a little more strength, any advantage he could manage at this point. He could feel himself hitting the end of his reserves and blindly fumbled for a lyrium potion. Only two left. That did not bode well for--
The explosion shook the square, throwing him into a pillar. His head smacked against the stone, and black spots danced across his vision as he hit the ground. Anders groaned, blinking, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A qunari mage, summoning glowing fistfuls of raw energy, a spell he'd never seen before... Anders struggled to get up, but his legs wouldn't obey. Maker, no, no no no, not like this, not now, no--
Blood splattered across the stone, the bright red breaking through the grey fog settling into Anders's vision. He drew in a deep breath and pushed himself up to his knees just in time to see a woman in armor neatly decapitate the qunari.
“I am Knight-Commander Meredith,” the woman said, offering her hand to Emma, and Anders froze in place. Of all the rescuers in the city, they'd get the one person who wanted him imprisoned or dead. How typical.
Meredith narrowed her eyes at Emma. “I know you,” she said. “The name 'Hawke' has turned up in my reports many times.” Her gaze shifted to Anders. “Too many.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to stare back. He was scared, yes, but he'd be damned if he let her see it.
“Is that so?” Emma asked, somehow sounding calm and a little sarcastic, as she walked over to help Anders to his feet. She squeezed his hand and nodded, once, then turned back to Meredith, deliberately placing herself between the Knight-Commander and him.
Anders found himself having to resist the urge to drop back to his knees and ask her to marry him.
“Thank you for the help,” Emma continued blithely. “The qunari are--”
“It's obvious what they're doing,” Meredith cut in. “The qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them.”
Emma frowned. “Why would they be taking hostages?”
“They're taking everyone of import and putting them in the same place,” Fenris said. “Those that convert, live. Those that don't...”
“Charming,” Emma and Meredith said simultaneously. Both women shot each other looks of matching shock and annoyance. “Right, never using that again,” Emma muttered darkly, then shook her head. “Well, I'm always happy to help in a life-threatening crisis,” she said with a bright grin. “It's more or less how I make a living.”
“I'm aware.” Meredith's gaze flickered back up to him. “I will overlook your choice in companions-- for the moment.” Icy fear shot through him, and Anders choked back the instinct to run, far and fast. “Head to the Keep, and I will see if I can find more of my men. These creatures will pay for this outrage.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched off.
As soon as she was out of sight, Emma spun around and grabbed his arms. Anders sagged back against the pillar, gasping for breath. “She knows,” he muttered. “She knows, I have-- we have to--”
“Anders,” she said, digging her fingers in a little. “It's going to be okay, love. All right?” She put one hand on the back of his neck and pulled his head down towards her. “I will not let them take you,” she said. “I swear. I don't care who she is or what she's done, I will kill her myself if she tries to take you from me.”
He drew in one shaky breath, then another, and then nodded. “Just so long as you let me help,” he replied with a weak smile.
She smiled back. “That's my man.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then released him and turned around. “Let's move.”