Title: I used to be an adventurer like you…
Summary: Hawke and crew have to stop adventuring because they all, on separate and unique occasions, take an arrow to the knee. Aveline gets a lot more guards. Kmeme prompt fill.
Disclaimer: I do not own, I just borrow. All hail Bioware.
Anders went down first. After that it sort of snowballed from there.
During a routine trek through Sundermount we encountered a band of raiders. They were simple enough to defeat. A fireball here. Lightning bolt there. Boom. Bang. All down. Like shooting fish in a barrel, Varric would say. We thought we had gotten them all but then a rogue arrow came out of nowhere and Anders screamed bloody murder.
Loud.
Blood curdling.
We knew something was wrong. Really, really wrong.
I dropped everything and ran towards him. He was keeled over on the ground, cradling his knee and blood flowed freely down his calf. There was an arrow in it straight through the joint. Minutes later the bushes behind me rustled and two men popped out. I had my staff in hand faster than Isabela could usually get off her smalls.
Correction. A man and a youngling popped out. The little boy no more than seven or eight summers old was beaming at his father.
"Look papa! We caught a wild turkey for supper. Mama's gonna be so proud of me!"
How could I be angry after that? My face softened and scowl disappeared. While Sebastian went to comfort the distraught father and son duo, I did my best with Anders. He'd begun teaching me some spirit healing but I knew this was beyond me. I tried anyways. I wish he'd said something to stop me but at least his leg was saved. Barely.
The next day we went to Varric's to explain the situation. Our only healer was out of commission for Maker knows how long. We'd have to be more careful on our missions.
Everyone turned to me for answers, for guidance, knowledge and leadership that I didn't have. Well, almost everyone. While I was brainstorming with Aveline, Fenris seized the opportunity to bicker with Anders as he always does when Anders wasn't the one doing the squabbling.
There was a half smirk, half sneer on the elf's face as he examined the blonde's bandaged knee. He teased him about the injury, amused by the turkey bit and the little boy.
"The great apostate felled by a toy bow and arrow."
Anders glared, encouraging another smirk from Fenris.
"It's your own damned fault you know, mage. Parading around in those ridiculous feather pauldrons and all."
Varric was the only one who came to Anders' defense, sitting Bianca down on his grand tabletop before chiding Fenris for his brooding and insensitivity.
"You're no better, Broody. From afar I'd think you were a goose too," the dwarf scolded.
And then, by some Divine freak accident, Bianca shot off a flurry of arrows Fenris' way. It was like she had developed a mind of her own and wanted to scold Fenris herself.
He managed to dodge most of the onslaught and they mostly shot around him anyways in an eerily perfect outline of his lithe and slender former. Varric laughed nervously, eyeing at his prized possession with stunned astonishment.
"Respect the bow and arrow, Broody."
That should have been ominous enough but we didn't pay any attention to it when Varric picked her up by her handle. That slight movement was just enough to set off the last arrow on the latch straight into Fenris' knee as he removed himself from the wall.
We didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both but we stood very still for a while just staring at the injury and digesting the sheer irony of the situation.
Anders didn't wipe that smirk off his face for the rest of the day.
With my best warrior and best healer now both on mandatory bed rest, I took Aveline, Varric, and Merrill with me to explore some underground ruins. It had started out fairly routine until someone, somewhere, somehow stepped on something they shouldn't have.
We ran for our dear lives down the narrowest corridor imaginable, scarcely avoiding the swinging axes and rain of flaming arrows fired upon us. I led the way ahead and swan dived forward, my hand grasping a chain that when pulled put an end to the madness.
From behind me I heard a howl of pain. I was almost too afraid to look but I knew I had to. There was Varric, face down in the dirt groaning and moaning like a banshee with something pointy and feathery – a blighted arrow – sticking out of the back of his knee.
I couldn't not cringe as I crawled up onto my legs and walked over to him with the others.
"Poor Varric. I'm so sorry," I heard Merrill say.
"Isalrightdaisynotyerfault," he mumbled back into the dirt through gritted teeth.
I cringed again, turning away to rummage for a lyrium potion in my backpack. Didn't have much time though because Merrill promptly fell into it with a bloody loud scream of her own.
Even though she was as cute as a button, Merrill was clumsier than a golem and apparently fell just as hard as them too. Somewhere between getting Varric up to a half sitting position and getting her foot caught in a crack in the ground, she'd lurched herself forward, knee first, into the arrow sticking out of Varric's knee and punctured herself in the process.
Aveline and I carried them both out on our backs and vowed to never return to the cursed ruins ever again.
Meanwhile, Sebastian had managed to persuade Isabela into some archery training. He'd been on her case ever since we got back from that Carta base in the Vinmark Mountains.
"Why the aversion to bows?" He had asked. "You could learn to shoot a bow, if you tried."
And after much coaxing and perhaps even a little bribing, Sebastian had accomplished what Varric had failed to do. He'd actually managed to get her to try archery. They went to the Gallows, though I'm not quite sure why. I think there are perfectly good training grounds elsewhere but in any case I think they wanted to visit Carver.
He had set her up with a basic bow, lightweight and small meant for children, really. I think she accepted the offer in an attempt to get closer to him. You know… what with him and his hard body pressed up against hers, arm over hers… guiding her fingers… oh, erm, where was I again?
Right, training. Bows. Yes.
They were set up with the other Templar trainees in a small practice field, not much room to maneuver. Word had been sent to Carver. If he had the free time then perhaps he should stop by and say hello, maybe even catch up.
Sebastian had poised Isabela in the correct stance and demonstrated several times how to fire the thing. She had been distracted though, understandably so what with his fine physique, that dreamy voice, those powerful arms… ahem. Right.
Distraction didn't stop at that, no matter how much he reprimanded her to pay attention. When it came time to put what she'd learned to practice, she'd somehow fired the arrow well over its intended target. The blunt arrowhead landed with an unusually loud clang and a familiar voice echoed through the whole field.
"Ow. Bloody void. Maker's hairy blighted ball sac!"
They ran to see what the commotion was and found Carver on his back clutching his knee. The arrow had propelled itself and ricocheted into the vulnerable spot between his greaves and boots and shattered his kneecap. They rushed him to the infirmary and returned to the Hanged Man by the time Aveline and I had arrived after having dropped off Varric and Merrill with Anders.
Poor Isabela, she was so upset no amount of alcohol could comfort her. Aveline had left somewhere around the fifth round of drinks so Sebastian and I offered to take Bela back to her room at the Rose.
We were ambushed by some weird Followers of She on the way there. Well, that was how we lost Sebastian. Poor bloke. Too courageous for his own good. Took an arrow jumping in front of Isabela.
Ironically, to the knee.
We weren't too far from the Rose so I sent Isabela home and hauled Sebastian to Anders' Clinic in Darktown. It wasn't an easy feat but I managed.
The next day when I came over to check up on him and the others, I was surprised to see Isabela there with her leg propped up on one of Anders' cots. Apparently, after I had left her, a minor riot broke out at the Rose. A dissatisfied patron had struck up a fight with the bartender and tried to castrate Jethann. He had been escorted out but unknown to the bodyguards, he had a miniature crossbow tucked away, hidden. Passing by Jethann, the patron pulled it out and took a shot, missing only a few inches and straight into Isabela.
In the knee.
I can only describe my reaction with one word: facepalm.
That's right, I said it. Palm to face.
My heart fell. My companions were now all out of commission. I had no choice but to stop adventuring. How am I supposed to get anything done without them?
In the next following weeks I went and escorted all of them to the Viscount's Keep and helped them fill out the Guard application. It was the saddest day of my life watching the lot of them sit in a straight row outside of Aveline's office. And as if it couldn't have gotten any worse… who am I kidding? Of course it got worse.
"Well Carver, you always wanted to make Guard," were the last words I said before being abruptly shoved into a patrol squad marching up the stairs. After the initial tumble, it took a few minutes to pry the armored men and women off me only to reveal a shiny bloody arrow sticking out of my knee. I wanted to clobber my brother. In fact I did.
Hopping on one leg, I thumped him over the head with my staff and lit his hair on fire.
So you see I used to be an adventurer like you… Then I took an arrow to the knee.
The poor teenage lass looked at Hawke with a half bewildered, half bored look. All he'd done was ask where Aveline's office was over an hour ago. And he hadn't even asked about her knee when she started with, "Anders went down first…"
It snowballed from there.
Fenris overhead the exchange from across the hall and moved in to give the boy the directions he'd asked for.
"No lollygaggin'. Move along citizen, up the stairs, to the left," he ordered, disdainfully.
Hawke sighed, leaning against the wall to give her bad leg a rest. Fenris took the spot next to her.
"You know Hawke, you need to stop spinning stories like this. You're starting to sound like Varric."
She pouted, shrugging her shoulders. Only eight more hours until the end of her shift.
fin.