A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part Two)
Title: A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part Two)
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline, special guests!
Pairings: Anders/Hawke
Rating: PG-13
Varric gestured grandly at the wind-blasted canyon and ruins stretched out below them. “There it is,” he said. “The Vinmark Chasm.”
Emma looked out towards the distant, weathered stone structures and frowned. “You're sure this is the place?”
“Absolutely. My sources are good.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “You have a plan, then? I mean, I found their hideout, but that's about all I know. It's all very... strange.”
She smirked and glanced back at them. “Oh, I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later.”
“Right,” Varric agreed. “'Oh, your name's Hawke, not Locke? Our mistake!'”
Aveline snorted and shook her head. Anders rolled his eyes. “Come on, now, Varric, you of all people should know that it's never that simple when she's involved,” he said, tilting his head at Emma.
Emma grinned as they started down the path. “Not my fault I'm a magnet for trouble.”
Varric glanced skyward, frowning at the sun. “I hope we're not too early,” he said.
“Too early for what?” Emma asked as they rounded a bend in the path. About thirty feet ahead, two people were sitting on a collapsed pillar, clearly waiting for something. They both stood as the group came into sight.
Varric grinned and gestured at them. “Our special guests.”
Emma slowed down and peered at the pair; then she gasped and broke into a run, bolting towards them. Anders smiled and shook his head, looking down at Varric. “How did you...?”
“It was Sunshine's idea,” Varric replied proudly as Emma reached her sister and picked her up off the ground in a hug. “Your Warden friend and I just helped.”
“You've completely upstaged me, you know,” Anders commented as they walked over.
“Eh, you'll just have to accept your place as the second-best man in Hawke's life,” Varric replied, polishing his knuckles on his coat.
Nathaniel took a large step backwards as Emma spun Bethany around. Both women appeared to be torn between laughter and tears. “I can't believe you're-- how did you get here? What are you even doing here? Why are you dressed like a Warden?” Emma babbled, her hands on Bethany's shoulders.
Anders did a double-take at the uniforms. Both Bethany and Nathaniel were wearing the Warden silver-and-blues. “Howe, I told you not to recruit her,” he started menacingly. Bad enough that he was a Warden, if Bethany had been dragged into it--
Nathaniel held his hands up. “I didn't,” he said. “This just seemed like the best way to get her past the Templars.”
He relaxed and smiled. “Oh. Then in that case, it's good to see you again, my friend,” he said, stepping over to pull him into a half-hug. Beside them, Emma and Bethany were still crying and laughing and hugging. They'd been writing letters back and forth every week for the past year or so, but he knew it wasn't the same as actually being able to talk.
Bethany dragged a hand across her eyes and beamed at him. “Anders!” she said, bounding over and throwing her arms around his neck. He smiled and hugged her back. She looked good, worlds better than she had when they'd broken her out of the Gallows. She'd made up the lost weight, no longer underfed with sunken, haunted eyes. Her dark hair was even longer now, tied back in a neat braid, and a slight tan told of days spent in the sun.
“Hey, you,” he said, pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple before letting her go.
She stepped back and smiled at him. “Have you been taking care of my sister?”
“As much as she'll let me,” he said. Behind her, Emma laughed, wiping tears from her face. “You been looking after Nathaniel?”
“I don't need looking after,” he cut in, arms folded across his chest.
“Uh-huh,” Anders said. “Remind me, how'd your last trip to Kirkwall go?”
The archer leveled a glare at him; Anders flashed him a winning smile. Some things never changed.
“Has everyone-- wait, no, Aveline, you weren't there last time Nathaniel was around,” Emma said. “Nathaniel, this is Aveline Vallen, Guard-Captain of Kirkwall.”
He huffed out a laugh and shook her hand. “A thankless task, that. You're either very dedicated or very foolish to take it on.”
Aveline smirked. “A bit of both, perhaps.”
“And this is Nathaniel Howe, who I believe has accumulated a few titles since last we spoke?” Emma asked, glancing at him inquisitively.
“Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arl of Amaranthine, yes,” he said. “Right now, though, I'm here as a friend.” His lips quirked up in a smile as he glanced at Bethany. Anders raised his eyebrows at him.
Emma rested a hand on Bethany's shoulder and grinned at her sister. “Not that I'm not glad to see you, because I am, very,” she began, “but how did you get here?”
“We took a boat,” Nathaniel replied dryly.
Bethany rolled her eyes. “I wrote Varric and asked him to let me know what was going on, since I knew you wouldn't tell me, and you'd run off into trouble on your own.” Emma shrugged and nodded agreeably. “He wrote me once he'd found their base, and Nate said he'd come with me. We sailed to Stonegate, walked here, and waited for you.”
Anders pressed a fist to his lips to cover a smile. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him; Anders lowered his hand slightly and mouthed 'Nate?’ The archer scowled and shook his head.
“So... you've known where this place was for a while,” Aveline said, looking at Varric.
Varric rubbed the back of his neck. “Er... yes. More or less.” He sighed. “I told Sunshine that if the Carta attacked Hawke again before she arrived, I'd have to tell her where they were. Which I did!”
“And then you stalled us for another day.” Aveline folded her arms and glared at him.
“We needed sleep! Right, Blondie?”
Anders smirked. “We did. But I think you owe us the cost of a new window, Tethras.”
“Eh. That's fair.”
Emma shook her head. “I'd be angry at you, but... flames, you helped get Beth here, I don't bloody care.” She gestured down the path. “Shall we?”
They fell into pairs on the road to the ruins-- Emma and Bethany leading the way, talking and laughing, Anders and Nathaniel in the middle, and Aveline and Varric bringing up the rear. Aveline appeared to be lecturing Varric on proper reporting procedures, based on what fragments of the conversation Anders could pick out. He was finding Nathaniel much more interesting at the moment, though. “So, Nate,” he began with a wicked grin. “How's Amaranthine these days?”
“Don't,” Nathaniel said with familiar, weary annoyance. “Just... don't.”
“Oh, you can't possibly expect me to drop it that quickly,” he said. “It's been a year. It's been over a year. And you haven't made a move yet?”
The archer rolled his eyes and gestured at Emma. “How long did the two of you know each other before you got together?”
“A little over three years, but that's beside the point,” Anders replied, waving a hand dismissively. “I had all sorts of interesting hang-ups and commitment issues to overcome. What's your excuse?”
Nathaniel sighed. “Could we perhaps not discuss this within earshot of Bethany's sister, who I am led to understand will very likely cleave me in two if she hears of this?”
“Oh, she won't,” Anders assured him. “Killing you would upset Bethany, and I’m pretty sure that Emma's desire to keep her sister happy trumps her desire to brutally execute potential suitors. That being said, if you break Bethany's heart, I won't be able to stop her from murdering you. Slowly and painfully.” Nathaniel blinked at him. Anders grinned. “So! How is Amaranthine? Oghren still hanging around, tarnishing the good name of both Wardens and dwarves everywhere?”
They caught each other up on the past year, with Varric occasionally chiming in with “helpful” commentary during Anders's version of events. Nathaniel had little to do as Warden-Commander, but as arl, he was constantly busy, overseeing the reconstruction of Amaranthine. The damage from the siege had mostly been repaired, but the army and city guard were both still understaffed. Anders mostly ignored the politics and continued to needle Nathaniel about Bethany. If the archer didn't threaten to stab him in the throat with an arrow before the day was out, he wasn't doing his job properly.
Their group was about halfway to the ruins when Anders noticed something suspicious. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
“What?” Nathaniel asked, immediately on edge.
Anders nodded at the Hawke sisters. “We're in trouble.”
Nathaniel followed his gaze and frowned. “What makes you say that?” he asked slowly.
“They're giggling,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the women. They were leaning their heads together, snickering and glancing back towards himself and Nathaniel every few seconds. “Nothing good can come of that.”
Beside him, Nathaniel heaved a long-suffering sigh. “They're happy to see each other, Anders.”
“Giggling,” he repeated. “This can only lead to terrible and nefarious plots on their part.”
While they'd been talking, Emma and Bethany had slowed down to let them catch up. Emma fell in step beside him and Bethany moved to Nathaniel's left. “I like the Warden uniforms,” Emma informed him.
Anders eyed her warily. “Uh-huh.”
“Did you ever wear them?”
“No, the dress code got instituted after I left,” he said, shaking his head.
Emma gave him a crooked smile, her eyes sparkling. “If I got Nathaniel to send me one, would you wear it?”
Anders turned to his friend and looked him over. The uniforms were quite attractive, and Nathaniel in particular filled his out very well. Still, they were rather lacking in one crucial area. “Needs more feathers,” he decided. Nathaniel rolled his eyes so hard they were in danger of falling out of his skull.
“I'll make it worth your while,” Emma promised, twining her arm around his and leaning against his shoulder. Bethany made a strangled noise and clapped her hands over her ears. Emma leaned over to better look at her sister. “Bethany. Seriously?”
“I might be old enough to accept that you have sex, sister,” Bethany said, cautiously lowering her hands, “but I will never be old enough to be okay with hearing the details of it. Ever.”
“Really?” Emma asked, radiating pure innocence. “Because Anders does this amazing thing with ice spells--”
“Gah!” Bethany darted off, hands over her ears again.
“Come back!” Emma shouted, dropping Anders's arm to chase after her. “You use ice magic too! It might be useful!”
“Get away from me!”
Nathaniel glanced at Anders and arched an eyebrow. Anders affected a look of nonchalance and casually examined his fingers. “You had your chance, Nathaniel. Could've had me if you wanted me.”
He rolled his eyes again. They were going to stick like that someday, Anders was almost certain of it. “Sorry, but if I were to take a crazy blonde mage into my bed, Velanna would have been more my type.”
“Hmph.” Anders paused for a moment, briefly wounded that anyone would pick Velanna over him, and then sidled closer to Nathaniel, grinning. “What about sweet, dark-haired mages?”
Nathaniel glowered at him. Anders just grinned more broadly. “Hey,” Emma said, breathing hard, having returned from chasing her sister around. “What's going on?”
“Nothing,” the men responded simultaneously.
Emma raised her eyebrows, clearly skeptical, but they were saved from her questions by a distant shout. “It's the Hawke!” someone called, voice echoing off the stone. Ahead of them on the path, a few dwarves disappeared from sight.
“It would seem we've been spotted,” Anders said mildly.
Emma nodded and drew her sword. The approach to the ruins was littered with skeletons, the bones gleaming in the late afternoon sun, and tattered red banners hung from spears driven into the ground. As they passed under a half-collapsed archway, a wild-eyed dwarf stepped out in front of them, teeth bared in a mirthless smile.
“You!” he said, staring at Emma. “You're finally here! You've come-- both of you!” His gaze flickered to Bethany for a moment. “The children of Malcolm Hawke! They've come to us!”
More dwarves drifted into view, fingering their weapons. Emma and Bethany looked at each other. “How could we turn down such a polite invitation?” Emma drawled. “I just had to know why you wanted me dead.”
“For the blood,” the dwarf declared. “We must have it!”
Emma blinked. “Oh, is that all? You could have just asked. I'm happy to make a donation.”
“We will take it,” the dwarf continued, pacing as he ranted. “Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!”
On some unspoken signal, Emma and Aveline bolted forward, slamming into the dwarves shields-first. Anders fell back a few paces to stand beside Bethany, who was cheerfully raining fireballs on the distant archers. Nathaniel clambered up on top of a boulder and carefully sniped at the dwarves streaming in through the gates, while Varric provided covering fire for the warriors. With Bethany handling the offensive magic, Anders cast a powerful haste spell, smirking as he watched the others dash around the field.
A second group of dwarves rushed through the gates, heading for Emma and Aveline. “Oh, no you don't,” Bethany muttered. Anders felt the Fade warp as she drew in mana; moments later, an invisible force slammed into the midst of the dwarves, scattering them like leaves in the wind.
“Neat trick,” he commented as he cast a healing spell on Aveline.
“Thanks,” she said. Another fireball exploded on top of the archers. “One of the Wardens is a force mage. He's taught me some very fun spells.” She threw a hand out, and Anders could just barely see the air warping as a wave of force took one of the dwarves off his feet.
Everyone stayed alert as the last of the would-be assassins fell, waiting for another wave of reinforcements. “I think we're clear,” Aveline called cautiously. They reassembled near the center of the natural arena; Anders gave everyone a quick spot check for serious injuries.
“Do you think Father did something to the Carta?” Bethany asked, glancing at Emma.
She finished wiping her blade off on a corpse and shrugged. “Something that made them so angry they'd come after his children almost thirty years later?” she asked, straightening up. “Absolutely not.”
That wasn't the answer the others were expecting, going by the confused looks. “How can you be so sure?” Varric asked.
Emma sheathed her blade and folded her arms, smirking. “Because, in addition to being an apostate mage and an ex-mercenary, Father was also a storyteller and a rather vain man. Not as vain as Anders, but in the neighborhood.”
“Of course I'd be better at it,” Anders put in, preening a bit.
She chuckled. “Case in point. Anyway, if Father had done something like that--”
“We'd have heard about it,” Bethany concluded, smiling.
“No possible way he'd have kept something that big to himself, not when there were wide-eyed children to impress.” Emma smirked and shook her head. “So it's something else.”
“The dwarf mentioned someone called Corypheus,” Nathaniel said. He glanced back and forth between Varric and Anders. “Do either of you know anything about that?”
Varric shrugged. “It sounds Tevinter,” Anders said. “But I've never heard the name before.”
“With a name like that, he's bound to indulge in some evil cackling at some point,” Emma said sagely.
“And apparently he wants our blood,” Bethany added.
Emma sighed. “Always with the blood. Why can't it be a lock of hair or spit or something?”
There was a long pause as everyone stared at her. “Spit?” Varric repeated. “You really want to face a spit mage?”
“For variety? Sure.”
Nathaniel turned to Anders. “You have truly questionable taste in romantic companionship,” he said flatly. Anders punched him in the shoulder and hit chainmail; he cradled his hand against his chest, wincing.
“Thanks for defending my honor, love,” Emma said with a wink as she turned and headed for the gates.
“Anytime,” Anders replied, sounding pained. Nathaniel snorted and rolled his eyes.
*
Days of digging, of tunneling in darkness, seeking the song. The song, perfect, beautiful, so sweet, sliding through the blood like poison, like fire, a need deeper than air or water or food. Food. The song was still there, faint, a tingle in the back of the skull, but hunger was now, present, stabbing pains. And even with that, to turn from the song, to walk back, away from it, took such strength. Some could not do it and died where they stood. Lucky for those around them; they did not have to cease digging to feed.
Light ahead, through the tunnels, back to the mothers. The cavern holds light, and guards, and flesh, soft and warm growing on the walls. Claws slide through meat, bring the warm, dripping strips up and--
Anders jerked awake, gasping, soaked in sweat and fighting nausea. He groaned and curled in on himself, breath hissing through his teeth. He was dimly aware of a rustling noise beside him, but couldn't move to acknowledge it. His concentration was focused on not vomiting his dinner onto the stone floor of the barracks they’d made camp in.
A gentle hand stroked through his hair. “It's all right,” Emma murmured, curling against him as much as she was able, what with her armor in the way. “Just a dream, love, it's all right...”
He drew in several deep breaths, blinking into the darkness. Light from the campfire flickered on the wall, and something about it made his stomach twist. He grimaced and rolled onto his back. Stars were better. They didn't remind him of anything sick and terrible lurking deep beneath them.
Emma propped herself up on one elbow, still stroking his hair, peering down at him in sleepy concern. “You okay?” she murmured.
He swallowed hard. “Better.” He frowned, trying to remember. “Was I-- I wasn't screaming, was I?”
She shook her head. “Just thrashing around,” she replied. She was familiar with his reactions to the nightmares, if not with their content. He couldn't bring himself to talk about what little of the dreams he recalled. “You didn't wake anyone else.”
Anders winced. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“It's all right.” She blinked heavily and settled back into her bedroll. “Go back to sleep.”
He wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or him. Regardless, she was asleep within seconds. Anders huffed out a breath and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking around the camp. Aveline sat with her back against a support pillar, sword across her knees, staring almost unblinking at the doors. Varric was beside her, near the lever that activated the spike traps across the front of the barracks, his notebook in his lap. And behind them...
Nathaniel sat on a low crate, scrubbing a hand across his face. He heaved a sigh and looked around, his gaze falling on Anders. The archer raised his eyebrows, and then pointed down. Anders nodded. Nathaniel scowled and shook his head. Darkspawn, and nearby, likely, if they were both so badly affected.
Anders exhaled heavily and lay back down. “Tomorrow's going to be fantastic,” he murmured. He swallowed hard, the taste of bile lingering in his throat, and turned his attention to the stars. He remembered only a few of the constellations he'd learned in childhood, but finding them so far from home would likely prove enough of a mindless challenge that he'd fall back asleep.
*
Aside from the constant talk of apparent demon worship and the obsession with Hawke family blood, the Carta base was rather like all the others that Anders had helped raid over the years. Lots of dwarves with daggers and crossbows, contraband stacked to the ceiling, and brontos that seemed almost magnetically drawn to him.
“Ugh, I think I'm going to be one enormous bruise by the time we're done here,” Anders groaned as Emma helped him to his feet.
She frowned. “You should heal yourself, love,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair off his face.
“It just seems so pointless,” he sighed. “I get thrown across a room, I heal, I get thrown across a room again...”
Emma smirked. “Let's go,” she said, tilting her head towards the stairs.
Anders hung back and fell in step beside Nathaniel. “Anything?” he asked, glancing down.
“No,” the archer replied. “They could have moved on, I suppose.”
He shrugged. “I guess.” They both knew it wasn't likely.
Emma stopped abruptly about halfway down an abandoned mine tunnel, holding up a closed fist. Everyone else fell silent, looking around warily, until a shape detached from the shadows and half-limped, half-ran towards her. “The-the Hawke's blood!” the dwarf said, staring at Emma with something disturbingly akin to lust. “The Master will rise. He will be free!”
“Gerav?” Varric asked, stepping forward.
The other dwarf's attention snapped to Varric, his eyes focusing slightly. “V-Varric? No one told me you would be part of this. We were just going after the Hawkes.”
Emma plastered on a wide, mirthless smile. “Manners, Varric! Introduce me to your lunatic friend!”
“Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta.” Varric gestured broadly at the Hawke sisters. “Gerav, this is Emma and Bethany Hawke, the ones whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever.” He paused for a second before pointing to Emma. “Though if you're after eternal youth, I should tell you, this one's no virgin.”
Anders grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not even close to your doing, Anders,” Emma drawled. “And what do you people want with us?”
“I-I can't say,” Gerav stammered. “The Master must be free...”
Varric shook his head. “Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this. I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game--” Aveline made an almost-silent seething noise, “--allegedly, but what are you all even doing here? Worshiping demons?”
“We drink the darkspawn blood,” Gerav explained. Anders's jaw dropped. He looked over at Nathaniel, who appeared similarly stunned. “He calls us.”
Emma shook her head. “Why would you do that?” she asked. “Wouldn't you just die?”
“It's the only way... to hear the music,” Gerav said.
Anders blanched. It sounded like they were talking about the Joining, but... that was impossible. “Nathaniel?” Anders muttered. “Ideas?”
“None whatsoever,” he whispered back. “They might have devised a ritual of their own. Or learned it from someone.” Anders frowned. Neither option was reassuring.
Varric took another step forward, wearing his best 'honest-merchant' smile. “Gerav, buddy... this isn't like you. Look, I-I've still got Bianca,” he said, drawing the crossbow. “Never misfired a day in her life! You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?”
And the saga of Bianca the Crossbow grows ever stranger, Anders thought. Just when he thought that Varric was a nice, stable individual, he'd start talking about his close personal relationship with his weapon and Anders would remember that, in some degree, they were all barking mad.
“You want to spare this bastard?” Emma asked.
Varric sighed and shook his head, taking aim at Gerav. “Not if he's after you, Hawke.”
“Aw, Varric, I always knew you loved me,” Emma said, and though her words were teasing, the sad smile she gave him was genuine.
Gerav scowled and threw a smoke bomb at the ground. When the mist cleared, he'd fallen back to the door, surrounding himself with his reinforcements. They fell into their standard battle arrangement-- mages in the back, archers to the sides, warriors charging headlong into the fray-- as the dwarves rushed them.
By straight numbers, it was an even fight, and mages usually counted as at least five warriors in most strategies. The battle was over quickly; Gerav dropped somewhere in the middle of it. Anders went to heal the gash on Nathaniel's face, only halfway listening to Varric and Emma talking. “...I never thought he'd end up like this,” Varric murmured.
Emma offered her friend a hand up. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go.”
The tunnels that followed were surprisingly empty and nearly silent. Emma led them past a raised iron gate and into a large cavern with wooden scaffolds covering the walls. And in the middle of the cavern were a heavily-armed dwarf and, naturally, a bronto.
“They told me you were going to be trouble,” the dwarf said. “I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or another.”
Emma threw her hands in the air. “Flames, what does this have to do with my father?”
“I do not question Corypheus,” he replied. “We were ordered to bring him the blood of Malcolm Hawke, the blood that runs through your veins!” He pointed at both sisters. “And we will have it. Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!”
They'd heard that before, from the other Carta members. Emma snorted and rolled her shoulders. “Fine, then,” she snapped. “You want my blood, come and take it.”
Oh, sweetheart, Anders thought as the scaffolding overhead creaked under the weight of easily a dozen archers. Why do you have to be so blighted dramatic?
The dwarf rushed Emma, a pair of blades in his hands and another strapped to his back; Aveline bolted past her to block the reinforcements climbing off the scaffolding. Nathaniel and Varric started exchanging fire with the archers, while Bethany laid into them with ice and waves of force. Anders heard a low, snorting growl and glanced sideways at the bronto. It pawed at the ground before lowering its head and charging.
“Son of a--” Anders dove to the side, but not fast enough. The beast's shoulder caught him in the side, tossing him into the cavern wall. He heard more than felt the pop when his ribs snapped. “Andraste's knicker-weasels,” he ground out, staggering to his feet. He sketched out a repulsion glyph around his feet, smirking through the pain when the bronto slammed into it face-first. The beast growled and slammed into it again. “Uh-oh.” The field would only hold so long under a sustained attack.
Behind the bronto, Emma ran the lead dwarf through on her sword. She left it there, embedded in his chest, and grabbed one of the blades from his lifeless hands, then spun around and hurled it at the bronto. It struck the beast's flank, dragging a long, bloody gash down the side before hitting the ground. Emma yanked her sword free as the bronto turned and charged at her. “My hero,” Anders muttered with a crooked smile and cast a haste spell.
The last of the attackers fell, including the damned bronto, and Anders limped out to the center of the room. “Anyone need healing?” he asked.
Bethany shook her head, casting a healing spell of her own on her arm. “Where's Aveline?” she asked.
“Here.” The guard-captain was descending the ramp leading up into the scaffolding, her armor and face liberally spattered with blood. “And healing would be most appreciated.”
Anders waved her over and cast the spell, closing up her wounds, and looked everyone over again before pressing a hand to his side and healing his cracked ribs. Emma brushed her hand against his arm as she walked past, checking the bodies. Something on the lead dwarf began to glow slightly as she approached. “Hm,” she said, kicking the body over. A longsword was strapped to his back, and it glowed with a strangely familiar blue-white light.
Emma reached for it. “Um, sister, do you really think that's a good--” Bethany began, but her warning went unheeded. Emma picked up the sword and had only a moment to examine it before the glow became blinding, enveloping both her and the sword.
It faded after a few seconds, leaving her standing there, wide-eyed. “Oooh, ouch,” she said, blinking. “That was... tingly.” Aveline groaned, and Varric smacked his palm against his forehead. Anders hurried to her side to make sure she wasn't hurt. “This is neat,” she said, giving the blade a few experimental swings.
“A phylactery,” he said as it clicked. Emma gave him a strange look. “That's what it reminded me of, the glow; it's the same as a mage's phylactery. The sword's sort of like that, I think. Attuned to your father's blood... and now to yours, I suppose.”
“That sounds like blood magic,” Aveline said, arms folded.
“It is,” Anders agreed. “Just like the phylacteries are blood magic, though don't ever say that where a Templar can hear you. They tend not to like that sort of thing.”
Emma shook her head vehemently. “Father would never have--”
“I'm not saying he used blood magic,” Anders cut in. “But his blood might have been used in a blood-magic-like ritual. To create this. Whatever it is.”
“It's the key,” Nathaniel murmured, and as soon as he said it Anders nodded. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that was right.
Emma raised an eyebrow. “No, it's a sword, see?” She slashed it through the air.
Anders caught her arm and shook his head. “No, he's-- he's right. It's the key to this place.”
“How do you know?” Bethany asked.
The Wardens looked at each other and shrugged. “I-I don't know,” Anders said. “I just... do. It... it opens the way.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Flames, I don't like this. Just want that formally stated for the record. So when this all goes sideways everyone knows that I disapproved.”
“Duly noted, Blondie,” Varric said.
Emma huffed out a laugh. “Just what I always wanted,” she said. “A key-blade... thing.” She tested the edge with her thumb and nodded. “Must be a pretty scary lock if this is what opens it.” She hooked the blade to her belt, switching her other one to hang over her shoulder, and nodded at the tunnel. “Well. Since it sounds like this won't stop until we deal with this Corypheus person... shall we?”
They were about fifty feet into the passage when Anders realized why the architecture felt so familiar. “This is part of the Deep Roads, isn’t it,” he groaned. “I hate the Deep Roads!”
“You're a Warden,” Nathaniel pointed out. “Deal with it.”
“I quit.”
“You can't quit. You know that as well as I do.”
“Well, I quit the part that requires me to go into the Deep Roads, anyway,” he grumbled.
Varric patted his arm sympathetically. “I feel your pain, Blondie,” he said. “I feel your pain.”
Anders pouted at him. “Then why do we keep doing this?”
The dwarf snorted. “Because I love trouble and you think Hawke's cute. C'mon, that wasn't a serious question, was it?”
“She is pretty cute,” he agreed, winking at Emma.
Emma affected a hurt look and sidled up next to him. “Pretty cute? That's it?”
He laughed and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to press a kiss to her hair. “I'd say what else I think of you, but I don’t want to give Varric any more material for his ballads.”
“Aw, protecting me from badly written poetry?” she asked. “How sweet.”
“I am an excellent poet,” Varric cut in icily. Anders heard the unmistakable sound of Nathaniel trying not to snicker behind him.
“I also don't want to traumatize Bethany any more than necessary,” he continued.
“At least someone here doesn't.”
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline, special guests!
Pairings: Anders/Hawke
Rating: PG-13
Varric gestured grandly at the wind-blasted canyon and ruins stretched out below them. “There it is,” he said. “The Vinmark Chasm.”
Emma looked out towards the distant, weathered stone structures and frowned. “You're sure this is the place?”
“Absolutely. My sources are good.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “You have a plan, then? I mean, I found their hideout, but that's about all I know. It's all very... strange.”
She smirked and glanced back at them. “Oh, I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later.”
“Right,” Varric agreed. “'Oh, your name's Hawke, not Locke? Our mistake!'”
Aveline snorted and shook her head. Anders rolled his eyes. “Come on, now, Varric, you of all people should know that it's never that simple when she's involved,” he said, tilting his head at Emma.
Emma grinned as they started down the path. “Not my fault I'm a magnet for trouble.”
Varric glanced skyward, frowning at the sun. “I hope we're not too early,” he said.
“Too early for what?” Emma asked as they rounded a bend in the path. About thirty feet ahead, two people were sitting on a collapsed pillar, clearly waiting for something. They both stood as the group came into sight.
Varric grinned and gestured at them. “Our special guests.”
Emma slowed down and peered at the pair; then she gasped and broke into a run, bolting towards them. Anders smiled and shook his head, looking down at Varric. “How did you...?”
“It was Sunshine's idea,” Varric replied proudly as Emma reached her sister and picked her up off the ground in a hug. “Your Warden friend and I just helped.”
“You've completely upstaged me, you know,” Anders commented as they walked over.
“Eh, you'll just have to accept your place as the second-best man in Hawke's life,” Varric replied, polishing his knuckles on his coat.
Nathaniel took a large step backwards as Emma spun Bethany around. Both women appeared to be torn between laughter and tears. “I can't believe you're-- how did you get here? What are you even doing here? Why are you dressed like a Warden?” Emma babbled, her hands on Bethany's shoulders.
Anders did a double-take at the uniforms. Both Bethany and Nathaniel were wearing the Warden silver-and-blues. “Howe, I told you not to recruit her,” he started menacingly. Bad enough that he was a Warden, if Bethany had been dragged into it--
Nathaniel held his hands up. “I didn't,” he said. “This just seemed like the best way to get her past the Templars.”
He relaxed and smiled. “Oh. Then in that case, it's good to see you again, my friend,” he said, stepping over to pull him into a half-hug. Beside them, Emma and Bethany were still crying and laughing and hugging. They'd been writing letters back and forth every week for the past year or so, but he knew it wasn't the same as actually being able to talk.
Bethany dragged a hand across her eyes and beamed at him. “Anders!” she said, bounding over and throwing her arms around his neck. He smiled and hugged her back. She looked good, worlds better than she had when they'd broken her out of the Gallows. She'd made up the lost weight, no longer underfed with sunken, haunted eyes. Her dark hair was even longer now, tied back in a neat braid, and a slight tan told of days spent in the sun.
“Hey, you,” he said, pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple before letting her go.
She stepped back and smiled at him. “Have you been taking care of my sister?”
“As much as she'll let me,” he said. Behind her, Emma laughed, wiping tears from her face. “You been looking after Nathaniel?”
“I don't need looking after,” he cut in, arms folded across his chest.
“Uh-huh,” Anders said. “Remind me, how'd your last trip to Kirkwall go?”
The archer leveled a glare at him; Anders flashed him a winning smile. Some things never changed.
“Has everyone-- wait, no, Aveline, you weren't there last time Nathaniel was around,” Emma said. “Nathaniel, this is Aveline Vallen, Guard-Captain of Kirkwall.”
He huffed out a laugh and shook her hand. “A thankless task, that. You're either very dedicated or very foolish to take it on.”
Aveline smirked. “A bit of both, perhaps.”
“And this is Nathaniel Howe, who I believe has accumulated a few titles since last we spoke?” Emma asked, glancing at him inquisitively.
“Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arl of Amaranthine, yes,” he said. “Right now, though, I'm here as a friend.” His lips quirked up in a smile as he glanced at Bethany. Anders raised his eyebrows at him.
Emma rested a hand on Bethany's shoulder and grinned at her sister. “Not that I'm not glad to see you, because I am, very,” she began, “but how did you get here?”
“We took a boat,” Nathaniel replied dryly.
Bethany rolled her eyes. “I wrote Varric and asked him to let me know what was going on, since I knew you wouldn't tell me, and you'd run off into trouble on your own.” Emma shrugged and nodded agreeably. “He wrote me once he'd found their base, and Nate said he'd come with me. We sailed to Stonegate, walked here, and waited for you.”
Anders pressed a fist to his lips to cover a smile. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at him; Anders lowered his hand slightly and mouthed 'Nate?’ The archer scowled and shook his head.
“So... you've known where this place was for a while,” Aveline said, looking at Varric.
Varric rubbed the back of his neck. “Er... yes. More or less.” He sighed. “I told Sunshine that if the Carta attacked Hawke again before she arrived, I'd have to tell her where they were. Which I did!”
“And then you stalled us for another day.” Aveline folded her arms and glared at him.
“We needed sleep! Right, Blondie?”
Anders smirked. “We did. But I think you owe us the cost of a new window, Tethras.”
“Eh. That's fair.”
Emma shook her head. “I'd be angry at you, but... flames, you helped get Beth here, I don't bloody care.” She gestured down the path. “Shall we?”
They fell into pairs on the road to the ruins-- Emma and Bethany leading the way, talking and laughing, Anders and Nathaniel in the middle, and Aveline and Varric bringing up the rear. Aveline appeared to be lecturing Varric on proper reporting procedures, based on what fragments of the conversation Anders could pick out. He was finding Nathaniel much more interesting at the moment, though. “So, Nate,” he began with a wicked grin. “How's Amaranthine these days?”
“Don't,” Nathaniel said with familiar, weary annoyance. “Just... don't.”
“Oh, you can't possibly expect me to drop it that quickly,” he said. “It's been a year. It's been over a year. And you haven't made a move yet?”
The archer rolled his eyes and gestured at Emma. “How long did the two of you know each other before you got together?”
“A little over three years, but that's beside the point,” Anders replied, waving a hand dismissively. “I had all sorts of interesting hang-ups and commitment issues to overcome. What's your excuse?”
Nathaniel sighed. “Could we perhaps not discuss this within earshot of Bethany's sister, who I am led to understand will very likely cleave me in two if she hears of this?”
“Oh, she won't,” Anders assured him. “Killing you would upset Bethany, and I’m pretty sure that Emma's desire to keep her sister happy trumps her desire to brutally execute potential suitors. That being said, if you break Bethany's heart, I won't be able to stop her from murdering you. Slowly and painfully.” Nathaniel blinked at him. Anders grinned. “So! How is Amaranthine? Oghren still hanging around, tarnishing the good name of both Wardens and dwarves everywhere?”
They caught each other up on the past year, with Varric occasionally chiming in with “helpful” commentary during Anders's version of events. Nathaniel had little to do as Warden-Commander, but as arl, he was constantly busy, overseeing the reconstruction of Amaranthine. The damage from the siege had mostly been repaired, but the army and city guard were both still understaffed. Anders mostly ignored the politics and continued to needle Nathaniel about Bethany. If the archer didn't threaten to stab him in the throat with an arrow before the day was out, he wasn't doing his job properly.
Their group was about halfway to the ruins when Anders noticed something suspicious. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
“What?” Nathaniel asked, immediately on edge.
Anders nodded at the Hawke sisters. “We're in trouble.”
Nathaniel followed his gaze and frowned. “What makes you say that?” he asked slowly.
“They're giggling,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the women. They were leaning their heads together, snickering and glancing back towards himself and Nathaniel every few seconds. “Nothing good can come of that.”
Beside him, Nathaniel heaved a long-suffering sigh. “They're happy to see each other, Anders.”
“Giggling,” he repeated. “This can only lead to terrible and nefarious plots on their part.”
While they'd been talking, Emma and Bethany had slowed down to let them catch up. Emma fell in step beside him and Bethany moved to Nathaniel's left. “I like the Warden uniforms,” Emma informed him.
Anders eyed her warily. “Uh-huh.”
“Did you ever wear them?”
“No, the dress code got instituted after I left,” he said, shaking his head.
Emma gave him a crooked smile, her eyes sparkling. “If I got Nathaniel to send me one, would you wear it?”
Anders turned to his friend and looked him over. The uniforms were quite attractive, and Nathaniel in particular filled his out very well. Still, they were rather lacking in one crucial area. “Needs more feathers,” he decided. Nathaniel rolled his eyes so hard they were in danger of falling out of his skull.
“I'll make it worth your while,” Emma promised, twining her arm around his and leaning against his shoulder. Bethany made a strangled noise and clapped her hands over her ears. Emma leaned over to better look at her sister. “Bethany. Seriously?”
“I might be old enough to accept that you have sex, sister,” Bethany said, cautiously lowering her hands, “but I will never be old enough to be okay with hearing the details of it. Ever.”
“Really?” Emma asked, radiating pure innocence. “Because Anders does this amazing thing with ice spells--”
“Gah!” Bethany darted off, hands over her ears again.
“Come back!” Emma shouted, dropping Anders's arm to chase after her. “You use ice magic too! It might be useful!”
“Get away from me!”
Nathaniel glanced at Anders and arched an eyebrow. Anders affected a look of nonchalance and casually examined his fingers. “You had your chance, Nathaniel. Could've had me if you wanted me.”
He rolled his eyes again. They were going to stick like that someday, Anders was almost certain of it. “Sorry, but if I were to take a crazy blonde mage into my bed, Velanna would have been more my type.”
“Hmph.” Anders paused for a moment, briefly wounded that anyone would pick Velanna over him, and then sidled closer to Nathaniel, grinning. “What about sweet, dark-haired mages?”
Nathaniel glowered at him. Anders just grinned more broadly. “Hey,” Emma said, breathing hard, having returned from chasing her sister around. “What's going on?”
“Nothing,” the men responded simultaneously.
Emma raised her eyebrows, clearly skeptical, but they were saved from her questions by a distant shout. “It's the Hawke!” someone called, voice echoing off the stone. Ahead of them on the path, a few dwarves disappeared from sight.
“It would seem we've been spotted,” Anders said mildly.
Emma nodded and drew her sword. The approach to the ruins was littered with skeletons, the bones gleaming in the late afternoon sun, and tattered red banners hung from spears driven into the ground. As they passed under a half-collapsed archway, a wild-eyed dwarf stepped out in front of them, teeth bared in a mirthless smile.
“You!” he said, staring at Emma. “You're finally here! You've come-- both of you!” His gaze flickered to Bethany for a moment. “The children of Malcolm Hawke! They've come to us!”
More dwarves drifted into view, fingering their weapons. Emma and Bethany looked at each other. “How could we turn down such a polite invitation?” Emma drawled. “I just had to know why you wanted me dead.”
“For the blood,” the dwarf declared. “We must have it!”
Emma blinked. “Oh, is that all? You could have just asked. I'm happy to make a donation.”
“We will take it,” the dwarf continued, pacing as he ranted. “Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!”
On some unspoken signal, Emma and Aveline bolted forward, slamming into the dwarves shields-first. Anders fell back a few paces to stand beside Bethany, who was cheerfully raining fireballs on the distant archers. Nathaniel clambered up on top of a boulder and carefully sniped at the dwarves streaming in through the gates, while Varric provided covering fire for the warriors. With Bethany handling the offensive magic, Anders cast a powerful haste spell, smirking as he watched the others dash around the field.
A second group of dwarves rushed through the gates, heading for Emma and Aveline. “Oh, no you don't,” Bethany muttered. Anders felt the Fade warp as she drew in mana; moments later, an invisible force slammed into the midst of the dwarves, scattering them like leaves in the wind.
“Neat trick,” he commented as he cast a healing spell on Aveline.
“Thanks,” she said. Another fireball exploded on top of the archers. “One of the Wardens is a force mage. He's taught me some very fun spells.” She threw a hand out, and Anders could just barely see the air warping as a wave of force took one of the dwarves off his feet.
Everyone stayed alert as the last of the would-be assassins fell, waiting for another wave of reinforcements. “I think we're clear,” Aveline called cautiously. They reassembled near the center of the natural arena; Anders gave everyone a quick spot check for serious injuries.
“Do you think Father did something to the Carta?” Bethany asked, glancing at Emma.
She finished wiping her blade off on a corpse and shrugged. “Something that made them so angry they'd come after his children almost thirty years later?” she asked, straightening up. “Absolutely not.”
That wasn't the answer the others were expecting, going by the confused looks. “How can you be so sure?” Varric asked.
Emma sheathed her blade and folded her arms, smirking. “Because, in addition to being an apostate mage and an ex-mercenary, Father was also a storyteller and a rather vain man. Not as vain as Anders, but in the neighborhood.”
“Of course I'd be better at it,” Anders put in, preening a bit.
She chuckled. “Case in point. Anyway, if Father had done something like that--”
“We'd have heard about it,” Bethany concluded, smiling.
“No possible way he'd have kept something that big to himself, not when there were wide-eyed children to impress.” Emma smirked and shook her head. “So it's something else.”
“The dwarf mentioned someone called Corypheus,” Nathaniel said. He glanced back and forth between Varric and Anders. “Do either of you know anything about that?”
Varric shrugged. “It sounds Tevinter,” Anders said. “But I've never heard the name before.”
“With a name like that, he's bound to indulge in some evil cackling at some point,” Emma said sagely.
“And apparently he wants our blood,” Bethany added.
Emma sighed. “Always with the blood. Why can't it be a lock of hair or spit or something?”
There was a long pause as everyone stared at her. “Spit?” Varric repeated. “You really want to face a spit mage?”
“For variety? Sure.”
Nathaniel turned to Anders. “You have truly questionable taste in romantic companionship,” he said flatly. Anders punched him in the shoulder and hit chainmail; he cradled his hand against his chest, wincing.
“Thanks for defending my honor, love,” Emma said with a wink as she turned and headed for the gates.
“Anytime,” Anders replied, sounding pained. Nathaniel snorted and rolled his eyes.
*
Days of digging, of tunneling in darkness, seeking the song. The song, perfect, beautiful, so sweet, sliding through the blood like poison, like fire, a need deeper than air or water or food. Food. The song was still there, faint, a tingle in the back of the skull, but hunger was now, present, stabbing pains. And even with that, to turn from the song, to walk back, away from it, took such strength. Some could not do it and died where they stood. Lucky for those around them; they did not have to cease digging to feed.
Light ahead, through the tunnels, back to the mothers. The cavern holds light, and guards, and flesh, soft and warm growing on the walls. Claws slide through meat, bring the warm, dripping strips up and--
Anders jerked awake, gasping, soaked in sweat and fighting nausea. He groaned and curled in on himself, breath hissing through his teeth. He was dimly aware of a rustling noise beside him, but couldn't move to acknowledge it. His concentration was focused on not vomiting his dinner onto the stone floor of the barracks they’d made camp in.
A gentle hand stroked through his hair. “It's all right,” Emma murmured, curling against him as much as she was able, what with her armor in the way. “Just a dream, love, it's all right...”
He drew in several deep breaths, blinking into the darkness. Light from the campfire flickered on the wall, and something about it made his stomach twist. He grimaced and rolled onto his back. Stars were better. They didn't remind him of anything sick and terrible lurking deep beneath them.
Emma propped herself up on one elbow, still stroking his hair, peering down at him in sleepy concern. “You okay?” she murmured.
He swallowed hard. “Better.” He frowned, trying to remember. “Was I-- I wasn't screaming, was I?”
She shook her head. “Just thrashing around,” she replied. She was familiar with his reactions to the nightmares, if not with their content. He couldn't bring himself to talk about what little of the dreams he recalled. “You didn't wake anyone else.”
Anders winced. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“It's all right.” She blinked heavily and settled back into her bedroll. “Go back to sleep.”
He wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or him. Regardless, she was asleep within seconds. Anders huffed out a breath and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking around the camp. Aveline sat with her back against a support pillar, sword across her knees, staring almost unblinking at the doors. Varric was beside her, near the lever that activated the spike traps across the front of the barracks, his notebook in his lap. And behind them...
Nathaniel sat on a low crate, scrubbing a hand across his face. He heaved a sigh and looked around, his gaze falling on Anders. The archer raised his eyebrows, and then pointed down. Anders nodded. Nathaniel scowled and shook his head. Darkspawn, and nearby, likely, if they were both so badly affected.
Anders exhaled heavily and lay back down. “Tomorrow's going to be fantastic,” he murmured. He swallowed hard, the taste of bile lingering in his throat, and turned his attention to the stars. He remembered only a few of the constellations he'd learned in childhood, but finding them so far from home would likely prove enough of a mindless challenge that he'd fall back asleep.
*
Aside from the constant talk of apparent demon worship and the obsession with Hawke family blood, the Carta base was rather like all the others that Anders had helped raid over the years. Lots of dwarves with daggers and crossbows, contraband stacked to the ceiling, and brontos that seemed almost magnetically drawn to him.
“Ugh, I think I'm going to be one enormous bruise by the time we're done here,” Anders groaned as Emma helped him to his feet.
She frowned. “You should heal yourself, love,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair off his face.
“It just seems so pointless,” he sighed. “I get thrown across a room, I heal, I get thrown across a room again...”
Emma smirked. “Let's go,” she said, tilting her head towards the stairs.
Anders hung back and fell in step beside Nathaniel. “Anything?” he asked, glancing down.
“No,” the archer replied. “They could have moved on, I suppose.”
He shrugged. “I guess.” They both knew it wasn't likely.
Emma stopped abruptly about halfway down an abandoned mine tunnel, holding up a closed fist. Everyone else fell silent, looking around warily, until a shape detached from the shadows and half-limped, half-ran towards her. “The-the Hawke's blood!” the dwarf said, staring at Emma with something disturbingly akin to lust. “The Master will rise. He will be free!”
“Gerav?” Varric asked, stepping forward.
The other dwarf's attention snapped to Varric, his eyes focusing slightly. “V-Varric? No one told me you would be part of this. We were just going after the Hawkes.”
Emma plastered on a wide, mirthless smile. “Manners, Varric! Introduce me to your lunatic friend!”
“Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta.” Varric gestured broadly at the Hawke sisters. “Gerav, this is Emma and Bethany Hawke, the ones whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever.” He paused for a second before pointing to Emma. “Though if you're after eternal youth, I should tell you, this one's no virgin.”
Anders grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not even close to your doing, Anders,” Emma drawled. “And what do you people want with us?”
“I-I can't say,” Gerav stammered. “The Master must be free...”
Varric shook his head. “Really, Gerav? I thought better of you than this. I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game--” Aveline made an almost-silent seething noise, “--allegedly, but what are you all even doing here? Worshiping demons?”
“We drink the darkspawn blood,” Gerav explained. Anders's jaw dropped. He looked over at Nathaniel, who appeared similarly stunned. “He calls us.”
Emma shook her head. “Why would you do that?” she asked. “Wouldn't you just die?”
“It's the only way... to hear the music,” Gerav said.
Anders blanched. It sounded like they were talking about the Joining, but... that was impossible. “Nathaniel?” Anders muttered. “Ideas?”
“None whatsoever,” he whispered back. “They might have devised a ritual of their own. Or learned it from someone.” Anders frowned. Neither option was reassuring.
Varric took another step forward, wearing his best 'honest-merchant' smile. “Gerav, buddy... this isn't like you. Look, I-I've still got Bianca,” he said, drawing the crossbow. “Never misfired a day in her life! You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?”
And the saga of Bianca the Crossbow grows ever stranger, Anders thought. Just when he thought that Varric was a nice, stable individual, he'd start talking about his close personal relationship with his weapon and Anders would remember that, in some degree, they were all barking mad.
“You want to spare this bastard?” Emma asked.
Varric sighed and shook his head, taking aim at Gerav. “Not if he's after you, Hawke.”
“Aw, Varric, I always knew you loved me,” Emma said, and though her words were teasing, the sad smile she gave him was genuine.
Gerav scowled and threw a smoke bomb at the ground. When the mist cleared, he'd fallen back to the door, surrounding himself with his reinforcements. They fell into their standard battle arrangement-- mages in the back, archers to the sides, warriors charging headlong into the fray-- as the dwarves rushed them.
By straight numbers, it was an even fight, and mages usually counted as at least five warriors in most strategies. The battle was over quickly; Gerav dropped somewhere in the middle of it. Anders went to heal the gash on Nathaniel's face, only halfway listening to Varric and Emma talking. “...I never thought he'd end up like this,” Varric murmured.
Emma offered her friend a hand up. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go.”
The tunnels that followed were surprisingly empty and nearly silent. Emma led them past a raised iron gate and into a large cavern with wooden scaffolds covering the walls. And in the middle of the cavern were a heavily-armed dwarf and, naturally, a bronto.
“They told me you were going to be trouble,” the dwarf said. “I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or another.”
Emma threw her hands in the air. “Flames, what does this have to do with my father?”
“I do not question Corypheus,” he replied. “We were ordered to bring him the blood of Malcolm Hawke, the blood that runs through your veins!” He pointed at both sisters. “And we will have it. Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!”
They'd heard that before, from the other Carta members. Emma snorted and rolled her shoulders. “Fine, then,” she snapped. “You want my blood, come and take it.”
Oh, sweetheart, Anders thought as the scaffolding overhead creaked under the weight of easily a dozen archers. Why do you have to be so blighted dramatic?
The dwarf rushed Emma, a pair of blades in his hands and another strapped to his back; Aveline bolted past her to block the reinforcements climbing off the scaffolding. Nathaniel and Varric started exchanging fire with the archers, while Bethany laid into them with ice and waves of force. Anders heard a low, snorting growl and glanced sideways at the bronto. It pawed at the ground before lowering its head and charging.
“Son of a--” Anders dove to the side, but not fast enough. The beast's shoulder caught him in the side, tossing him into the cavern wall. He heard more than felt the pop when his ribs snapped. “Andraste's knicker-weasels,” he ground out, staggering to his feet. He sketched out a repulsion glyph around his feet, smirking through the pain when the bronto slammed into it face-first. The beast growled and slammed into it again. “Uh-oh.” The field would only hold so long under a sustained attack.
Behind the bronto, Emma ran the lead dwarf through on her sword. She left it there, embedded in his chest, and grabbed one of the blades from his lifeless hands, then spun around and hurled it at the bronto. It struck the beast's flank, dragging a long, bloody gash down the side before hitting the ground. Emma yanked her sword free as the bronto turned and charged at her. “My hero,” Anders muttered with a crooked smile and cast a haste spell.
The last of the attackers fell, including the damned bronto, and Anders limped out to the center of the room. “Anyone need healing?” he asked.
Bethany shook her head, casting a healing spell of her own on her arm. “Where's Aveline?” she asked.
“Here.” The guard-captain was descending the ramp leading up into the scaffolding, her armor and face liberally spattered with blood. “And healing would be most appreciated.”
Anders waved her over and cast the spell, closing up her wounds, and looked everyone over again before pressing a hand to his side and healing his cracked ribs. Emma brushed her hand against his arm as she walked past, checking the bodies. Something on the lead dwarf began to glow slightly as she approached. “Hm,” she said, kicking the body over. A longsword was strapped to his back, and it glowed with a strangely familiar blue-white light.
Emma reached for it. “Um, sister, do you really think that's a good--” Bethany began, but her warning went unheeded. Emma picked up the sword and had only a moment to examine it before the glow became blinding, enveloping both her and the sword.
It faded after a few seconds, leaving her standing there, wide-eyed. “Oooh, ouch,” she said, blinking. “That was... tingly.” Aveline groaned, and Varric smacked his palm against his forehead. Anders hurried to her side to make sure she wasn't hurt. “This is neat,” she said, giving the blade a few experimental swings.
“A phylactery,” he said as it clicked. Emma gave him a strange look. “That's what it reminded me of, the glow; it's the same as a mage's phylactery. The sword's sort of like that, I think. Attuned to your father's blood... and now to yours, I suppose.”
“That sounds like blood magic,” Aveline said, arms folded.
“It is,” Anders agreed. “Just like the phylacteries are blood magic, though don't ever say that where a Templar can hear you. They tend not to like that sort of thing.”
Emma shook her head vehemently. “Father would never have--”
“I'm not saying he used blood magic,” Anders cut in. “But his blood might have been used in a blood-magic-like ritual. To create this. Whatever it is.”
“It's the key,” Nathaniel murmured, and as soon as he said it Anders nodded. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that was right.
Emma raised an eyebrow. “No, it's a sword, see?” She slashed it through the air.
Anders caught her arm and shook his head. “No, he's-- he's right. It's the key to this place.”
“How do you know?” Bethany asked.
The Wardens looked at each other and shrugged. “I-I don't know,” Anders said. “I just... do. It... it opens the way.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Flames, I don't like this. Just want that formally stated for the record. So when this all goes sideways everyone knows that I disapproved.”
“Duly noted, Blondie,” Varric said.
Emma huffed out a laugh. “Just what I always wanted,” she said. “A key-blade... thing.” She tested the edge with her thumb and nodded. “Must be a pretty scary lock if this is what opens it.” She hooked the blade to her belt, switching her other one to hang over her shoulder, and nodded at the tunnel. “Well. Since it sounds like this won't stop until we deal with this Corypheus person... shall we?”
They were about fifty feet into the passage when Anders realized why the architecture felt so familiar. “This is part of the Deep Roads, isn’t it,” he groaned. “I hate the Deep Roads!”
“You're a Warden,” Nathaniel pointed out. “Deal with it.”
“I quit.”
“You can't quit. You know that as well as I do.”
“Well, I quit the part that requires me to go into the Deep Roads, anyway,” he grumbled.
Varric patted his arm sympathetically. “I feel your pain, Blondie,” he said. “I feel your pain.”
Anders pouted at him. “Then why do we keep doing this?”
The dwarf snorted. “Because I love trouble and you think Hawke's cute. C'mon, that wasn't a serious question, was it?”
“She is pretty cute,” he agreed, winking at Emma.
Emma affected a hurt look and sidled up next to him. “Pretty cute? That's it?”
He laughed and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close enough to press a kiss to her hair. “I'd say what else I think of you, but I don’t want to give Varric any more material for his ballads.”
“Aw, protecting me from badly written poetry?” she asked. “How sweet.”
“I am an excellent poet,” Varric cut in icily. Anders heard the unmistakable sound of Nathaniel trying not to snicker behind him.
“I also don't want to traumatize Bethany any more than necessary,” he continued.
“At least someone here doesn't.”