THE OTHER BROTHER
The Deep Roads Expedition
Part I
9:31 Dragon
"Nice day to be planning an expedition into the Deep Roads, don't you think? The blight, the dampness, the festering darkness filled with tainted rats..."
"Shut up." Carver snaps.
"You've got a real chip on your shoulder, you know?" Anders observes, unphased.
"I've got a big blade on my shoulder, magey."
"Right." Anders withdraws with a mutter; "wonder what you're compensating for."
Carver bristles but doesn't respond to the twitch in his hand when impulse suggests he reach for the sword strapped to his back. Another tiff with the mage isn't worth the effort. Anders is all talk – it's just he never shuts up. Neither does he ever tire of annoying the piss out of Carver; a cue Anders has probably picked up from Carver's brother Garrett.
Carver glares at Anders until he notices Garrett in the corner of his eye, curiously watching them from several feet away. Living in a family of apostates for nineteen years, one thing Carver knows very well is what it feels like to be watched.
"We've chosen one of the hidden entrances," Bartrand Tethras announces at the top of his voice. The expedition hirelings and adventurers gathered in the Hightown square crowd together to hear him. "The Deep Roads there will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering!"
The dwarf's brother, Varric Tethras, leans toward Garrett as they stand together and mutters: "Now there's an interesting image."
Carver immediately forgets about Anders in favor of hearing every word of the pronouncement. He tries to squeeze toward the front of the crowd, excitement prickling his hands and arms.
"It'll take a week for us to get to the depth we'll need," Bartrand paces, like a restless beast behind bars. "There are bound to be leftover darkspawn from the Blight." He finally settles into one spot. "Big risks, big rewards."
"There better be. I didn't give up all that coin for nothing."
Carver isn't the only one who turns his head at Garrett Hawke. Everyone there knows Tethras & Hawke are the benefactors funding the entire venture. But when people hear 'Hawke' they think only of Garrett. Carver is used to being overlooked, but it never fails to fire his blood. He's invested the same sweat and tears earning the gold they spent buying into a partnership on the expedition. But that little detail was the first to fly after money exchanged hands. Carver has managed this far to keep silent about the injustice; reminding himself that he only need suffer his brother's conceits until they return to Kirkwall. With the treasure they're sure to find in the Deep Roads, their family will buy themselves protection from human scavengers and templar hunters. That is when Carver will be free to live life as he chooses, for the first time. No more worrying about drawing attention to the reticent Hawke family.
He will no longer be his brother's keeper.
"Trust me," Bartrand soothes, "you will reap what you sow, partner." The dwarf has such steely eyes, with pupils that suck you in like the Void; Carver avoids Bartrand normally, but his eyes especially. From the moment the Hawke brothers met him, Carver walked away knowing the man sees profit and deficits instead of people.
"Now," Bartrand bellows, summoning all eyes back to him, "before we -hey, wait, who invited the old woman?" With deep grooves on his brow, he jerks his thumb at the interloper.
Everyone looks but Carver, who instead puts a hand over his face with a silent curse on his lips.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, ser dwarf, but I need to speak with my children."
Oh, Maker. How embarrassing. Carver snakes through the crow and steps into stride with his brother. They walk toward their mother Leandra Hawke – or Amell, as she was once known in Kirkwall. Her hair is tied at the nape of her neck, the dull grey color making her look older than she is. Her patched dress, made in unflattering shade of brown, doesn't help the matter. If their mother hadn't run off to marry their apostate father and fled the Free Marches to Ferelden, then Leandra would be standing in jewels and silk today. And probably not looking half as angry.
Carver is already shaking his head as he and Garrett approach her. "Mother, no. We talked about how important this is." Carver says with thinly veiled exasperation.
"I just want to know one thing." Leandra hardens her eyes on Garrett. "Are you planning on taking Carver with you?"
Carver's mouth falls open to argue. His mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth when she doesn't even glance at him.
Garrett shrugs with nonchalance, an attitude befitting the way he's ruled the family since their father died four years ago. "I haven't decided yet."
Carver does not tuck his tail at the fight ahead of him. This is too damn important. "I'm going. It'll be fine."
"It's not fine!" Each word and every line on Leandra's face tighten. When she looks at him like this, Carver knows she sees only a little boy, her youngest baby. "You can't both go. What if something were to happen to you?"
Her pleading eyes revert to Garrett; "You I can understand wanting to do this, but leave your brother here I beg you."
"I said I'm going," Carver insists, firm but gentle. "Besides," He adds reasonably, "if we're so bloody afraid of templars, I should go and he should hide."
Garrett shoots him an unappreciative look. Carver pretends not to notice.
"Well, you're not going to be able to take everyone, anyhow," Bartrand interjects, impatiently shaking his head. "You'll need to decide." He tells Garrett.
So Garrett Hawke has the final say. Carver is horrified, but not surprised. He stands there in angry silence, fighting the urge to wring Garrett's neck when Garrett's gaze passes over him. Garrett waves his arm, motioning to someone in the crowd. Carver can't resist the temptation to learn who his brother's chosen first and looks over his shoulder.
Anders. He hates to admit it, but bringing a Grey Warden makes sense. They're the best weapon against darkspawn. And the maps Bartrand is using to get them into the Deep Roads were once Grey Warden property, which Anders gave them in exchange for a favor.
Still, it's Anders.
Carver frowns and looks away. Before this moment, Carver would have said he'd rather sit at an Orlesian tea party than buddy up with Anders. That type of disdain is absent as Carver's thoughts only swirl with despair that he will be denied his rights to go.
Garrett brushes his fingers over his own dark beard contemplatively while their mother pleads with her eyes.
Quickly Carver's blue eyes dart to the elf, Fenris; agile, deceptively strong for his lanky frame, and those strange markings on his skin give him a keen advantage in a fight. Isabela; she's one of the fastest with a dagger Carver has ever seen, and has a couple other assets Carver suspects his brother is interested in. Even Merrill is here, standing way in the back but looking hopeful; her magic is powerful, even brutal, and don't mages love to stick together?
He can't stand it. He needs to hear his name!
"Carver." Garrett repeats.
He blinks and looks at Garrett, who in turn is looks intently back. Carver spares a glance at their mother and the glisten in Leandra's eyes reassures Carver he isn't imagining it: he's going to the Deep Roads.
Carver nods, his neck stiff. Weeping with gratitude would be misplaced; he deserves to go, he's earned it. A weight lifts from his shoulders.
Their mother doesn't feel the same. She grabs his arm, her slender fingers indenting the hard muscle. "Carver, I beg you! Don't go! Don't do this!"
He didn't expect it to, he doesn't want it to, but her words cut into him. "Don't worry about me so," He says softly. "I can take care of myself. You'll see." The old wound in his heart aches to see her doubt him now.
I am not my brother.
She relents but Carver knows better than to mistake it as her blessing. He'll never have that. Carver touches her fingers, enveloping her thin hand as he removes it from his arm. He holds her hand inside his for a long moment. She accepts his resolve because there is no other choice. When she pulls her hand away, unhappiness is plainly writ across her face. For the first in a long time, Carver sees their mother give Garrett a dark and disapproving look. Without speaking another word Leandra turns away and starts the long walk back to Lowtown.
"Personal family drama over with?" Bartrand asks gruffly.
It must be easy to eavesdrop when you're so short, Carver bites his tongue.
"Then let's get underway." The dwarf turns from the Hawkes and stalks back to the rest of the team, Varric stepping in alongside him.
Garrett turns toward Carver to say something, only to find him gone. Carver can spot a dreaded "Talk" from a league away; no way is he letting Garrett get the last word in about all this. After a quick glance about doesn't produce Carver, Garrett scrubs a hand over his dark beard and shrugs.
"Who are we watching?" Merrill's excited breath on Carver's ear almost makes him jump. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize we were being sneaky. I should have known; you're hiding behind this big pillar."
"I'm... I'm not. Not exactly."
Merrill's big green eyes search Carver's face. "I was." She admits. "I saw you and Hawke talking with your mother. She looked very sad."
"My family has a problem with goodbyes." Carver shrugs, leaning his back against the wide stone pillar. It is one of a dozen like it holding up one of Hightown's many pavilions. Merrill continues to gaze up at him, her eyes full of expectation. Carver shifts uncomfortably, pretending the greatsword slung on his back was the trouble. But he can't pretend away the faint blush creeping under his skin as Merrill's earnest eyes pull him in. "You look... Um, you sure stand out here in Hightown." Carver says, glancing down at her bare feet, admiring her dainty toes.
Merrill's thin eyebrows flinch and she nervously jerks her eyes over her shoulder. "I shouldn't have come," She whispers. "You're right. A Dalish like me can't pass as a servant here. Maybe I should go?"
"That's not what I meant." Carver grimaces.
"Still." Merrill looks over her other shoulder. "I should say goodbye to Hawke. Wish him luck. You, too, of course. I know you really wanted to go."
"Thanks Merrill." Carver smiles.
The elf doesn't give him a chance to finish; she moves as twitchy as a bird, hopping through the crowd spreading the courtyard. Carver watches until she joins Anders, Varric, Fenris, and Aveline who stand around Garrett. Even the devoted guardswoman finds time on her patrol to stop by and see his brother off. Carver would have been envious of his brother's popularity if it didn't attract such obnoxious riffraff. Working for Athenril and her band of smugglers for the past year hadn't really offer opportunity to make lasting friendships. Not the kind of associations Carver wanted. But Garrett has been content picking up every dangerous loner and misfit he stumbles across. Carver wouldn't call that much better. Not that he had anything against Merrill. She isn't short on problems, but at least she's honest. Innocent, even.
"Aren't you darling, stalking the object of your affection." Isabela croons.
Carver almost jumps. Again. His cheeks flush and he turns to face her. "Isabela, what do you want? My brother is over there."
Isabela crosses her arms beneath her chest, forcing her already ample bosom to swell considerably above the plunging collar of her shirt. She is watching him carefully. Maybe to see if he's going to leer? He wouldn't give her that kind of ammunition. "I'd have to be deaf and blind to mistake you for Hawke," Isabela laughs. "But you're exactly who I wanted to see."
"What for?" Carver regards her warily. "If you're thinking you can convince me to let you take my place on the expedition, you'd be wasting both our time."
"Convince you?" Isabela takes a step forward. The cut of her very short skirt flashes more bare thigh at him than he could see for free at the Blooming Rose. Somehow that one step brings Isabela very close.
As he stares into her sunset-colored eyes, Carver realizes how much this woman terrifies him.
"I hadn't even considered that. But I wonder what I could possibly offer you to change your mind?" Isabela's eyes stray from Carver's big blues to his lips. She points her finger against the center of his chest. "You could make this easy. Or very, very hard."
Carver swallows thickly as she trails her fingertip from his sternum to his navel.
Her voice drops huskily. "I like it hard."
His heart skips inside his chest. "Stop joking. My brother would have my head if I ever touched you."
Carver is surprised when Isabela pulls back her hand. She stares at him strangely, maybe disbelieving? Carver thought for sure there was something between his brother and the Rivaini.
"I just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye." Isabela hesitates. "And, ah, take care of him for me."
Carver nods, relieved to have his personal space back. He glances over the crowd at his brother. Garrett spots him and gives a come hither wave. Carver knows without looking back that Isabela is gone, so he doesn't hesitate to trot over to Garrett. Carver is greeted with a supply pack, which he hangs off one shoulder. Everyone else is prepped and ready. The expedition's supplier, Bodahn Feddic, hauls the heaviest load complete with rations, tents, and anything else they might need during their extended vacation in the darkspawn-infested underground. Carver even thought he saw that weird contraption Bodahn's gifted son Sandal uses for enchantments added among the pile of goods.
"Ready?" Garrett grins.
"Born ready." Carver allows himself to smile.
Varric sidles up to Bartrand, Bianca slung over one shoulder. "It's been a long time coming, eh, brother?"
"That it has," Bartrand agrees. He raises a fist, rallying them all with a shout. "The Deep Roads await!"