This work is a sequel to both the game Dragon Age 2, and a previous story A Match to Tinder. That story was about the Champion and Anders' time immediately after the final battle in sunny Kirkwall. Fleeing, their friends and enemies were scattered too. Flight was not always simple, even with a friend or two. The hardest things were first rebuilding their relations after betrayal and violence, and then to find some way to deal with the threats from Vengeance. Vengeance was faced down, so Anders and Justice have struck a new balance. With spring, they must return to the road, to see if the seeds of change have resulted in progress for mages.
The Dragon Age world, game plots, and those characters from there aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.
Eastern Frostbacks, leaving Hallowdingle
Aldera Hawke:
Throwing my arms hastily away as I lost balance, I tucked them in for a roll as the hill I was descending lurched like a storm tossed ship. I slipped and fell into the lingering snowbank we were crossing. I started to stand again, but I couldn't help cursing as the cold had hidden that I'd wrenched my knee a bit.
Carefully crossing to where I'd slipped, Anders silently squatted to examine the injury before healing it.
I wanted to ask why we couldn't wait another week or two when travel would be safer, but I knew why. Justice had been patient for the months we'd stayed in the small village, but they had gotten more restless as the weather warmed until there was only light snows between melting. They both wanted to know what, if anything, had happened since we'd last gotten any fresh news months ago. But my mage had gotten grim and quiet for the last week as the snow slowed and plants began to be visible through the snow.
Carefully pulling me up to stand again, Anders smiled faintly. "Just be a little more careful, love."
I put my arms around him into a hug. "Maybe I just want your attention on me."
His smile warming finally, Anders slid his arms around me for a hard kiss. "It was on you and your rear at the time. I'm almost surprised I wasn't the one to slip."
Smiling, I decided that he should not have to miss out, and swayed myself into him enough to unbalance us. We landed in the snow together and air puffed out of his lungs when I landed on him.
His eyes flashed for a second, but he pulled my face down for another kiss before reaching lower.
I was just glad he wasn't showing Justice's determination now. We had spoken about violence and negating the point for change and I thought the spirit understood now, but I still wasn't completely convinced. I didn't know how much lingered from Vengeance's whispering.
Cold dripped down my neck, and I thought it might be Paws checking on us, but I saw Anders' grin as one of his hands moved away from the cold spot.
I got back to my feet and tried to knock as much snow out as I cursed his ancestors. Then I asked, "Are you going to help dry it?"
"Mine's wet and cold too, Hawke. We'll be fine." He was smugly grinning at me.
Big Paws bounded back to us, his claws helping with his footing. Ser Mew peeked out of his basket, looking unhappy as he had less space in the basket now, but he wasn't fond of walking in snow.
Muttering as cold water was dripping down my back and it wasn't worth changing clothing, I moved downhill again.
A few days after we came down out of the village, we'd still had to camp in our tent due to our slow pace and distance between towns. When we reached the first place with an inn, I was glad to get a room. It only took a few more days until we'd left the mountains and full winter behind. Travel was much easier and no one cared about mercenaries who looked worn and experienced. One of the nicer things about being in Ferelden was that a trained mabari wasn't quite as notable here, and some rude people avoided us completely because of him.
The best part of that Hallowdingle had been that they really didn't care what happened beyond their area. Even the Sister who led services when the weather allowed, had no interest in a couple of recovering mercenaries who were retraining after battle injuries. Those months we worked on our disguise weapons more often than our true ones.
We'd made one change to our disguise that 'Brana,' no longer carried Celebrant, while 'Heysal' did. Anders and Justice had both vowed that Justice now remembered some skills he'd learned at the Vigil even if I hadn't really seen it against enemies yet. He was sweating like a pig when he demonstrated some back in Hallowdingle, but was it good enough, short of the Arishok or Meredith? I was sure with her arrival, they would use magic.
At least Celebrant could be wielded by Justice at need. That and Anders was tall enough to carry the blade and look more intimidating than I.
After the months last autumn with first Merrill and then Vael too, our tent was almost spacious now.
I turned towards Anders and asked carefully out of habit, as this kind of question had to be asked for so many years. "Are you sure you don't mind if we visit where Lothering was before we check on Kinloch?"
Anders' face stilled for a moment before he smiled and said wistfully. "I'd like to see it, love. I have to admit I'm curious about such a small village as Lothering being so important in so many tales I've heard around campfires. Many of the Warden's were sad little tales about fools who thought traps would save them from darkspawn, but I prefer hearing more about farmyard pranks about your family. I must have passed through it on one of my escapes, but I really don't remember it."
I took a second to wonder how life would have been if I'd met him then. If Papa had been alive, he probably would have sent Anders on his way to preserve our secret. I wasn't as sure what would have happened in our last three years in Lothering. Mother usually tried to stop our bickering but made few decisions. I was well aware Bethany could have used another instructor. Still I might have let him go, thinking he'd draw Templars on us. That was terrible to even think about.
"It wasn't much different than most places I remember us living in," I could say as I moved closer to him for a hug I needed with these memories. "Lothering and Kirkwall were the only places we'd ever settled in for long.
"Did you know, Mother and Bethany waited much too late for Carver and I to return from Ostagar? They should have left before all ships became only refugee ships."
Anders tapped my nose before saying, "Don't focus on the 'what ifs,' love. Then both you and Carver might have died while fleeing. I doubt your mother and Bethany would have wanted that."
Still not feeling that satisfied with my decisions, I had to admit, "At least they got to see Carver again before he died." It still didn't help that much. I missed them all so much. Bethany may be alive, but I'd seen her less than a week over almost ten years now, she'd become almost a phantom to me. It was getting harder to pretend I had any family, the longer I was away from our last home. It wasn't quite fair to expect Anders could make up for all that. I laid my cheek against his chest to feel his steady heartbeat.
"Oh, love," Anders said, while tightening his embrace and rocking us.
After a few more moments, I felt a nudge at my back, and Anders jerked his arm from around me. "I did not need dog slobber to make my day complete!"
I had to laugh, twisting around to scratch Big Paws' ears. When I looked up at Anders, his eyes were much more cheerful than his voice had been and he smiled.
Finding the old Imperial highway wasn't a problem: travel east to the lake, follow the coastline south as it circles around the lake until you reach Lothering. The weather was still chilly spring, but we didn't hurry. The Highway was its usual mix of decrepit and vital, though the bulk of the rock used to make the road was horrifying. I didn't think any rock here, or much of it at least, could be from the quarries in Kirkwall. That didn't make the sheer weight of it any better. How many slaves, and even how many 'lesser' mages, burnt out their lives to build this road that didn't even bow to the shape of the land?
A thousand years later, and it was still passable for the most part. Bridges were gone from storm or other disaster, but what remained still carried so many people and caravans. As we climbed the landings up to the highway, with chunks fallen and simpler repairs made, I almost wondered what the roads looked like in Tevinter. Not enough to go there, as cruelty still remained long after much of Thedas broke free.
As we circled Lake Calenhad, not many traveled the highway this early in spring. There really weren't any major towns near here, only villages that were small and far apart. Sometimes there were inns along the road, built below the roadbed, relying on the seeming timeless rock of the highway for support and shelter. Some were small and in fine condition, while others much larger and worn by the years. We didn't hurry along the west of the lake, resting if there was a spring storm. Redcliffe was still days away, and sad Lothering well beyond that.
After trudging across the ice on the raised road bed one day and slipping our way through too many near sprains, I was glad to see a fresh signpost for an inn. Carefully making our way down the stairs, I led, on the theory that I could recover better from a fall if I slipped. That was a bit optimistic, and Anders was having trouble keeping up with our injuries. We got down to the Fettered Kestrel, that featured an empty eyrie, and took the best and biggest room they had.
The lady owner was so glad to have customers and so talkative, that I felt I had to help with heating the water for our use. I learned that she and her husband were rebuilding an older inn and the work was going slowly as she was expecting. I dusted off my rusty knowledge of what to say, wishing. Wishing for family. I hadn't really planned for it, as I figured Carver or Bethany would find someone because I would be too busy looking out for them... I expected to be the most doting aunt ever. I disappointed my mother as I was her last hope for grandchildren once we'd gotten established in Hightown.
I'd counted it a kind of blessing in Kirkwall that we hadn't, but I had sometimes wished for it despite the risk from Vengeance. This made it difficult after a while to stay sympathetic to Mother's hopes and plans instead of bitter.
Once we had the bathing chamber to ourselves for the afternoon and warm water made toasty by Anders, a soak was wonderful. I felt summer warm for the first time in weeks while Anders examined the soap we'd just bought for bubble-making fun.
Before I finished dressing, I dragged Paws for a bath too. He pouted, and almost slunk back to our room with his fur still damp and a look of betrayal. It wasn't serious because he did that every time, but I promised to get him some stew when Anders and I went down for some dinner.
Anders played with Mew when I started Paws' bath with an absent expression on his face, but he left for the tavern room before we were done.
When I followed him down, I glanced up at the small hole in the hall ceiling just before the last steps to the tavern. It reminded me of all the unfinished and broken places I'd stayed: Gamlen's, Merrill's, Fenris' mansion, and even to the shed I barely remembered when we first arrived in Lothering. I wanted to visit there, to see if Lothering was as dead as the letters said or if Papa's memorial had survived the darkspawn.
Others could not have thought much of it, a free-standing stone we'd chipped at slowly and carefully over the months before the Blight began, not knowing that we had a deadline. Mother hadn't wanted to come out of her room for many so days after he died, and even her share of farm chores weren't enough for to wear out my anger and grief. Carver was just as much a tit, wanting to be the man of the house at fifteen, even if he actually didn't want to do anything useful. We shouted at each other and Bethany hid in our room.
"Your sister is the elder, Carver," Mother said to him finally, her eyes red rimmed and face pale as she left their bedroom. As soon as she'd spoken, she turned back into their room and shut the door firmly.
My face was probably as red as his now, but Carver muttered venomously, "When will I be big enough to be a man? I'm more than a handspan taller now, and I can't twist myself enough to stay in your shadow like everyone wants."
With that, he strode out the door, and closed the door so quietly that slamming it would have been more peaceful. His impatience and temper were like mine, but I'd had to master mine before he was much past full sentences. I closed my eyes and counted.
When I stopped, I said to the empty room,"I don't know, brother. I didn't choose this."
Later I tracked him down, while he talked to one of the Templars. I waited to talk to him as soon as the man was called to some duty. Carver was already fuming about being nagged before I could speak.
Once we were further from the Chantry I said, "Do you want to help make a memorial for Papa? We'd have to try to make it ourselves, maybe a simple carving. We can't put a statue up."
With a weak grimace he said, "I'd like that, I can do something that is important to someone."
It took several days, but we found a rock and some tools, and we let Carver choose where on the farm to put it, and he chose in a wild corner. We argued what to carve, but secrecy finally won over a more detailed carving with his name and accomplishments as those were illegal. That and the fact a simple carving was the best we thought we could make with our lack of experience.
After some practice on smaller rocks, we got started, taking turns to make a relief on the side, that looked like the carving on Papa's favorite staff. Water and ice should not cause our carving to break up until the rock itself shifted in the soil. That week or two we got the most done, but the seasons changed and we worked on it fitfully over the months until the Blight came.
The darkspawn sightings were getting more common every month, and Carver was wild to join the King's army. He finally enlisted weeks before the army gathered. Mother had been planning for us to leave for the Free Marches, some place neither she nor Papa had spoken much about. She'd already sent a letter and trunks to her brother in the care of some merchant guild, I made sure they weren't easy locks to pick. I noticed she'd packed things like Bethany's doll and Carver's old blankie. I wasn't sure he'd appreciate her saving it to embarrass him.
Carver wanted to stay in Ferelden and fight the darkspawn. He would have tried to become a Gray Warden if he'd known how. He was old enough to enlist without Mother's permission; she couldn't stop him. I'd had a fight with Mother when she ordered me to go to the army too and keep an eye on him. No one mentioned why or how I was supposed to do much to protect a warrior like Carver, but we both knew it didn't matter. She knew she'd won when she reminded me that she didn't want to lose Carver, her baby, too.
That duty had been drilled into me for eighteen years now, their lifetimes. It seemed another lifetime away, something I'd give most anything to have back. Then I cursed, Mother glared at me for my language, and I found the recruiter the next day, Testing well enough with bow and daggers, I got an enlistment bonus which I used to get drunk and get my tattoos. Carver was livid when he found out about both, but Mother made him promise to stay near me in the fighting.
We weren't even close to the front lines at Ostagar, that was for veterans and Wardens, those unlikely to panic. I knew we'd lost when the Teyrn's forces never came when the beacon lit the sky behind our lines. They had to have been blind to miss that, or cowards. The darkspawn kept rolling forward, even minor injury thought a death sentence. We were lucky, the ogres were fighting a knot of probable Wardens well in front, and we only saw them in the distance. Instead of us holding the rear, those companies in front of us were demolished. Now I know we fought mostly tainted creatures and hurlocks, not the more dangerous darkspawn, but then I grabbed Carver and ordered him to flee. He growled and attacked a wounded 'spawn that had almost made it through our part of the line.
When he finished, I tackled him and slapped him, saying, "We've lost! Half the army fled like cowards. We aren't enough, we aren't Wardens! We have to get back to Mother and Bethany before the 'spawn do!"
Something behind me got his attention as he shook me off of him. I rolled and sprang with my daggers, instead of the bow I'd been using, to attack one of the genlocks that reached us. Shouting his agreement, we fled, barely staying much ahead of the horde for the first hours. Looking back, I caught more glimpses of the ogres stomping the already wounded, and maybe even an emissary, but I didn't know that then. It was just sheer horror, and knowing there was no army, no Wardens to stop the tide. They were demolishing the army and we had been betrayed.
The spawn slowed and didn't bother to chase us all the way to Lothering, but again we didn't know. We fled along the old highway, barely resting, only to find Mother and Bethany were fine. Paws was glad to see me. Soldiers, Templars, and deserters like us reached the village even as more kept going. We packed a few things, and then dropped so many. The hardest to do was to not bring some keepsakes: my favorite quilt, some books, a stuffed bear the twins had once shared but Carver was too big to not object to bringing it. I said no to much more than dried fruit and meat. Water was too heavy to carry more than a little. Clothing, books, all the things we'd gained in Lothering. But it never lasted.
We all were trying to figure how we could take more... but then I remembered a sight far distant across the battlefield: men in heavy armor flying in upward arcs. Not Mother. Not Bethany..
Carver met my eyes, and maybe for the first time as adults we truly agreed with each other. We nearly hauled them out of the house to begin our flight from Lothering just as the darkspawn were arriving.
Years had passed since Carver had died, years of fighting and deaths. Despite seeing his shade in the Gauntlet, I couldn't remember much about that clearing where he died. All I truly remembered was the ogre and the sickening crunch when Carver died... Mother's cry of anguish and the flavor of my bitter failure. Was there a trampled crop, or just a clearing in dirt? My memory insists on remembering it as a barren wasteland where nothing else lived as far as the eye could see. I knew it wasn't that way before the darkspawn even arrived, but that is how I remembered it. I wasn't even sure if I could find that clearing where Carver died now, still I hoped perhaps to find some sign. I hoped to add Carver's name to Papa's memorial too. It was plain rock, and should still be there. Mother had been the only one to have a full funeral, but did that even survive what Anders did? I should add Mother's name too.
Who else would remember them well now?
Even if they'd never met, Anders had Papa's staff, although the decoration had been disguised for months.
When I entered the tavern, I moved over to stand in front of the cheering fire for warmth and to stare into the flames. I wasn't that hungry and Anders was quietly enjoying an ale at the bar.
We'd talked about going to Amaranthine so I could maybe meet Ser Pounce and Anders could look for his phylactery again. Or if we could seek Flemeth in the Wild to the south. I still wanted to know what she meant when she'd been all cryptic about leaping and abysses. She was the dragon, after all. If she wanted change, we'd done enough of that to deserve a few answers. I wasn't sure if finding Flemeth was a good idea, but finding out what she meant was still bothering at me.
For once, we had nothing extremely urgent and I thought Anders could use the extra rest from travel in both armor and sword. I considered offering to help with repairs if the owners wanted help. I had a few tricks for repairs from Gamlen's house and helping Merrill, that I remembered learning from Papa.
He'd spent so much time with Bethany and Carver... I tried not to resent it but I understood Carver's frustration so much more than I think he ever would admit. Over much of the winter, I wished I could have spoken longer with his shade in the Gauntlet, there he showed the man he would have become, the one I never knew.
I then felt guilty for wishing he'd survived instead of Bethany.
An icy drip found its way onto my head, and I got more determined to offer help. The taproom was warm, welcoming, and nearly empty. I wondered if many road weary people could find the inn from the small sign on the old highway.
Anders sat at the bar, so he could talk to the owner as he drank. His sword was propped against the wall and he was addressing a refilled mug of ale with no little glee. I had to smile, as he had bemoaned his inability to get drunk for all the time I'd known him, and his spirit had lightened his disapproval.
Deciding to move over to join him, I was about to make a joke when I saw a heavily armed and armored mercenary clap a hand on his shoulder and pull him away from his drink.
Templar hunters, here?
- x -
A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
