Legacy isn't my favorite part of the Dragon Age lore, but the journey through the tower has some things to say about the relationships amongst the group. I've had this story in mind for two years now, working on it in bits and pieces, and it's mostly complete. This one will run about 11 chapters. Special thanks to Oleander's One for her thoughtful betaing, support, and friendship!
Hawke looked around her at the carnage. "What in the Maker's name was that all about?"
The dwarves had come out of nowhere, attacking in force and taking Hawke and Fenris completely by surprise. It had been touch and go for a few minutes, and had the dwarves been at the top of their game, the outcome might have been different. But something was off—they seemed to be acting blindly, out of instinct instead of skill, and Fenris and Hawke had defeated them handily.
Fenris shook his head. "I don't know. One of them said something about blood, I think, but what do dwarves want with blood?" He frowned. "Perhaps we should ask Varric."
"You know how he gets when we assume he knows every dwarf in Kirkwall."
"But these are Carta dwarves," Fenris said, pointing to the familiar insignia on a shirtsleeve. "Varric is always willing to learn unpleasant things about the Carta."
"No arguing with that," Hawke agreed. "Let's go."
"Blood?" Varric looked mystified. "No, I haven't heard anything like that. Sure, the Carta sheds a lot of other people's blood, but the blood isn't usually the point of the activity."
"It was strange, Varric. They came out of nowhere, and they wouldn't back down. Usually the Carta know when they're beaten, and prefer to live to fight another day. But these ones …" Hawke shook her head. "They seemed crazed."
Whatever Varric was about to say in reply was interrupted by a knock on the door. Norah the waitress poked her head in the door. "Message for you, Champion."
"For me? Here?" It was a useless question; people who wanted her for something always seemed to find her, no matter where she was. Hawke reached for the folded piece of parchment in Norah's hand, glad that the waitress knew them all well enough not to bother answering. Unfolding it, Hawke quickly scanned the message, frowning over it.
"What does it say?" Fenris asked.
"It's from Bethany. Apparently a group of Carta dwarves managed to sneak into the Gallows and attacked her. She says one got near enough that it was clear they wanted to take her prisoner, not to kill her, and that he was muttering about 'the blood of the Hawke'." She grimaced. "Does it always have to be blood? Just once couldn't it be spit, or a lock of hair?"
"So there is something special about your blood? Why am I not surprised?" Fenris said.
"What are you going to do?" Varric asked.
"Set a trap, I suppose," Hawke answered. "If they want our blood badly enough that they're willing to come after both of us, they won't stop at just one attempt apiece. And if they're going to try again, better it be me than Bethany."
"Seems to me Sunshine's proven she can take care of herself," Varric said.
Evelyn couldn't deny he was right. Bethany had forced Anders to pay for his crime, and in the aftermath of the Chantry explosion had rallied the mages, putting them to work cleaning up the debris and healing the injured. Her actions had resulted in Bethany being named First Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle. Still, Evelyn couldn't put a lifetime of protecting her little sister aside quite so easily.
Varric recognized the stubborn set of Hawke's jaw and nodded. "A trap it is, then."
The following day, a temptingly armor-free Hawke took a stroll through a quiet section of residential Hightown. She whistled casually, looking around at the houses, and, as expected, in less than five minutes dwarves were jumping over walls and bursting out of doorways. Hawke's team—Fenris, Varric, Isabela, and her cousin Charade—surrounded them immediately, and it was a fierce battle in which the dwarves refused to give up. It was as much as they could do to subdue one of them without killing him.
Varric knelt over the prone dwarf, slapping his face. "Wakey wakey."
Hawke took an instinctive step backward when the Carta dwarf opened his eyes. They were a strange, milky blue, almost the color of a ghoul's. Maker knew, she'd seen it enough times in those few of her fellow soldiers who had survived Ostagar.
The dwarf's gaze moved over Varric, pinning on Hawke, and his eyes lit up. "The Hawke! The blood of the Hawke!"
"Why do you need Hawke's blood?" Fenris demanded. The lyrium markings were sparking faintly, and Hawke put her hand on his arm. He shook her off, advancing on the dwarf, whose eyes opened wider.
"Blood of the Hawke! Corypheus calls!" he whispered. "Take the Hawke's blood. Carry it … Vimmark Mountains." His head fell heavily onto the ground, his eyes rolling back into his head. Varric shook him a few times, and shook his head.
"I think he's had it."
"I guess we go to the Vimmark Mountains," Hawke said. "It was getting boring around here anyway."
"Should we speak with Bethany first?" Fenris asked. "Perhaps there are more of them, who will pursue her if you are not available."
Evelyn couldn't argue with that logic, and so they caught the next ferry across to the Gallows. They were ushered into the office of acting Knight-Commander Cullen, who greeted them with a harassed smile. "Champion."
"Cullen, didn't we agree you would call me Evelyn? Of all people, you know what a crock that Champion title is."
"I'm sorry. Old habits." He stood up, shaking hands with Fenris and Varric, and clasping Evelyn's hand within both of his. "Speaking of old habits, dare I hope this is a social call, or are you here because a crisis has arisen?"
"Take a guess," Varric said.
Cullen sighed. "I thought as much. I assume you'd like to speak with Bethany?"
"If it isn't too much trouble."
"She's right across the hall, you know."
Evelyn had entirely forgotten. She still wasn't used to her little sister being the First Enchanter. "Do you mind if we just step across, then?"
"You don't need to ask my permission any longer." Cullen looked sad. "And soon, it won't be my permission you'll need, anyway. The news has come through—they're assigning a new Knight-Commander here. From Orlais, naturally."
"Orlesians aren't known to be kind to mages," Varric observed.
"No. And this one certainly won't be. He's on record as saying all mages should be locked in separate rooms and kept until they can be made use of."
"Charming," Fenris said.
"If I had any way of preventing it …" Cullen shrugged.
"What's going to happen to you?" Varric asked.
"I think it's best not to think about that."
"Cullen, if you need … anything, you can always call on me," Hawke said.
He nodded, but she knew he wouldn't ask. He'd take whatever the Chantry dished out, because at heart, he believed they were right. Hawke closed the door to Cullen's office sadly, wishing there was some way she could save him from his own sense of responsibility.
She knocked on her sister's office door, and was still somewhat surprised when the familiar soft voice told her to enter.
"Sister!" Bethany's face lit up when she saw Evelyn. "Have you come to explain these strange dwarves?"
"I wish I could. The only thing I know is that they want our blood for someone named Corypheus."
Bethany shook her head. "It's always blood, isn't it? What are we going to do?"
"The only lead we have is the Vimmark Mountains. The dwarf we captured wouldn't say anything more."
"But there's nothing in the Vimmarks!"
Varric nodded. "We know. None of my sources know anything about any settlement there, any secret hideaways. It's just a big blind spot on the map. And no one's ever heard of this Corypheus, either."
Frowning, Fenris said, "To put the dwarves we fought into that state of frenzy, Corypheus must be a powerful mage."
"Broody, how many times do I have to tell you, magic doesn't work on dwarves?"
"Looks like a few more, Varric," Hawke cut in. She turned to her sister. "We'll go check it out and report back to you."
"Oh, no, you don't." Bethany's mouth set into the pretty but stubborn pout Evelyn knew all too well. "I am not staying here safe and coddled while you go out and do all the work and resent me for not pulling my weight."
It was on the tip of Evelyn's tongue to deny the accusation, but she really couldn't. "You're the First Enchanter," she said instead. "Are you sure you can just leave like this?"
"Far more easily than I could when I was just a Senior Enchanter. The head mage is still given some freedoms." Her soft mouth tightened. "Under Cullen, at least. When he's replaced … well, no point going into that until it happens."
They were all silent for a moment. "All right," Evelyn said at last. "If you think you can get away, we'll leave tomorrow."
"Very well. Thank you, Sister."
"Well, if what they want is the blood of the Hawke, might as well have it all in one place." Evelyn grinned.
After working out the logistics of meeting and packing and so forth, Evelyn and Fenris and Varric left the Gallows and took the ferry back to Kirkwall. Varric promised to enlist Isabela's assistance once he got back to the Hanged Man.
Fenris and Hawke were left alone. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Fenris cleared his throat.
"Something on your mind?" Hawke asked.
His green eyes were serious as he took her by the arms, pushing her back against a wall and holding her there with his body. Hawke luxuriated in the heat of his lean frame against hers as he took her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "You are not to put yourself at any unnecessary risk," he said.
"Fenris, they want my blood. I'm already at risk, and will be until we get to the bottom of whoever this Corypheus is and what he might be after."
He leaned his head against her shoulder. "May I confess something?"
"This is all a big trick to lure me to a surprise birthday party?"
Fenris laughed. "No. Perhaps next year." He lifted his head, the smile fading from his face. "The truth is, I weary of the constant threats to your life. If something were to happen to you—"
"It won't. That's what I have you for." A half-amused acknowledgment passed between them, memories of all the times they had failed to protect one another, but neither of them bothered to put that knowledge into words. "Let's go home and see if I can't take your mind off of it all."
The next day, they made their way out into the desert toward the Vimmarks. Evelyn and Fenris, Bethany, Varric, and Isabela, who had joined them at the last minute.
"Rivaini, you've been complaining for ten years that you didn't have a ship. Now you've got one, and you're still in Kirkwall, traipsing around after Hawke. What's the deal?" Varric asked.
Isabela grimaced. "Have you seen what my darling brother did to the Temptress? The curtains in the captain's cabin are this hideous shade of yellow, and he papered the walls with little turtles wearing hats. It's no wonder his crew were all so willing to leave him—who can respect a captain with such bad taste?"
Fenris and Hawke exchanged a glance. The excuse sounded remarkably similar in tone to the kinds of things Varric said whenever someone suggested he get out of Kirkwall and see the rest of Thedas.
"Maybe I could take a look," Bethany said wistfully. "They won't let me do anything with my room in the Gallows—I'd love a chance to think about fabrics and wallpaper."
"Ooh, would you?" Isabela slung an arm around Bethany's shoulders. "Let me tell you what I was thinking." The two of them fell behind, talking animatedly.
Evelyn sighed. "She would have made someone a wonderful wife."
"Perhaps she will still have that chance," Fenris said.
"You don't think that, and you wouldn't support it, so don't patronize me," Evelyn snapped.
Fenris looked offended, and perhaps there would have been an argument, but Varric called their attention to a destroyed caravan in the path.
"The Carta don't generally attack merchants. We dwarves like to see money being made, especially if there's a chance to get a cut for ourselves. This kind of destruction …" Varric shook his head. "It's not dwarfy."
"'Dwarfy?'" Hawke repeated.
"What? How would you say it?"
"Sure, dwarfy. Whatever works." Hawke kicked over a crate, spying a jug half-buried underneath it. "Black ale! Now that's dwarfy."
"Dibs!" Varric shouted.
"Finders keepers, my friend." Hawke pulled the fat jug out of the dust, carefully stowing it in her pack. She had to laugh at Varric's crestfallen expression. "Don't worry, I intend to share."
"That's true, Broody only drinks wine."
"I can appreciate a good dwarven ale."
"Please. 'Appreciate'? I'm talking about lip-smacking fall-down-drunk-before-you've-swallowed-it dwarven ale, and you claim to 'appreciate' it?" Varric snorted. "Let me know when you're ready to uncork that thing, Hawke."
She smiled, moving ahead of them, refusing to be drawn into the argument.
Something was ahead, blocking the path. As she came closer, she recognized the something as a dwarf. "Varric."
"What?"
"Friend of yours?"
"Never met him before."
The other dwarf came forward, his eyes shining with an unholy light. "The child of the Hawke!" His eyes caught sight of Bethany over Evelyn's shoulder and he practically danced with excitement. "The children of the Hawke! They come! The blood of the Hawke comes to Corypheus! He will be freed!"
"I have no intention of freeing anyone." Hawke crossed her arms over her chest. "Not without a lot more information than I've heard so far, and definitely not with my blood."
"You have no choice," the dwarf said, his eyes glittering. "Corypheus will have what he wants. You can come willingly, or—"
"The more I hear of this Corypheus, the less I like him," Fenris muttered as dwarves began to spill from the surrounding canyons. An arrow flew through the air, embedding itself in the ground at Varric's feet.
Hawke and Fenris were moving even before it hit, drawing their blades and attacking the first two dwarves they saw. Bethany cupped her hands together, flame forming within them, and threw a fireball into the midst of a knot of dwarves. It exploded at their feet, sending singed bits of dwarf flying in all directions. Isabela rolled behind another dwarf, standing up and shoving her daggers into the back of his neck in one fluid movement. Varric's keen eye spotted the archers on a ledge, and Bianca's silver tongues sang until the archers were all down.
In concerted movements born of a decade fighting alongside one another, Hawke and Fenris decapitated four dwarves in a row. Bethany froze the last one, and Bianca took him down with a final barb.
"The Carta usually fights a lot better than that," Isabela observed, yanking an amulet off the dwarf at her feet. She held it up, squinting at it, for a moment before shrugging and dropping it into her cleavage.
"Something is wrong with these dwarves," Fenris said.
Bethany looked pale. "They seem … possessed. But that's not possible!"
"Well, we aren't going to find the answers standing here in the middle of the desert." Hawke squinted at the horizon. "Do those look like buildings, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"If they are, we're all suffering from the same delusion," Varric said. "Let's go see if anyone's at home."
To their surprise, they found what appeared to be an entire small settlement of Carta dwarves, all of whom seemed determined to capture the "blood of the Hawke" for themselves. All of them were crazed, flailing about them with an uncontrolled strength that was unpredictable but also not particularly challenging.
As Varric and Isabela rifled through the pockets of the fallen dwarves and Bethany refreshed her energies with a lyrium potion, Hawke walked toward the edge of the paved area, staring into the distance. Slowly her eyes began to focus on a shadowy outline, glimmering in the hazy air. "Fenris!"
"Yes?"
"Do you see something out there?"
They both strained to see what it was, and soon Hawke could make out the outline of a giant tower, stretching up into the air. "What is that?"
"It appears to be a structure, but who built it and to what purpose, I am unable to hazard a guess."
"Why would anyone need a tower that big in the middle of the desert?"
"Was 'unable to hazard a guess' not a clear enough response?" Fenris gave her his trademark half-smile.
"Wait until I get you home."
"The anticipation is already building," he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.
"Do the two of you ever stop that?" Isabela called.
In response, Evelyn pulled Fenris even closer, reveling in the fact that instead of pulling away in the presence of the others, he responded ardently. They were both breathing heavily when the kiss ended, and Evelyn shot Isabela a wink over Fenris's shoulder. "Maker, I hope not!"
"Would you like to do something useful, like clear the Carta out of this building so we can get a decent night's sleep?" Varric asked.
"It's mid-afternoon, Varric."
"Yes, and I have a jug of black ale waiting to be uncorked."
"You mean I have a jug of black ale waiting to be uncorked, don't you?" Hawke asked. She grinned at her friend.
Bethany looked shocked. "You mean, with all these dwarves trying to kill us and drain our blood, or whatever they want to do, you're going to drink?"
Isabela shrugged. "It's what we do, sugar. Lots less fun in a low-target environment like this one, but …" Her eyes skimmed Bethany's shapely figure with interest. "It might not be a total loss."
"Wipe that thought out of your mind right now, or I'll do it for you," Evelyn said, giving Isabela a warning look.
The pirate grinned at her, uncowed. "Too late."
"Hawke, you might find this interesting." Varric had opened a door, poking his head inside a little room that looked like it might have been a guard post and helping himself to whatever was in there. He emerged with a piece of parchment in his hand.
Evelyn scanned the page. "A Grey Warden fortress! And some of the recruits went mad while building it. Well, that might explain the dwarves, then. If they found this place, decided to make it their hideout, and then whatever goes on here made them crazy. But how did it?"
"Well, everyone, speak up if you feel any signs of crazy coming on," Isabela said, looking around her nervously.
"Yes, do that," Fenris drawled, looking pointedly at Isabela.
"Hey!"
Hawke rolled her eyes at both of them. "Enough. Let's see what's inside this building, shall we?"