Athena

"Maybe, just maybe, getting involved with a possessed mage might be dangerous. There: I've said my piece…"

.

"I'll break your heart..."

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A blinding red light. A vision of the Chantry, and Kirkwall with it, crumbling to ruins amid fire and smoke. The bloodcurdling screams of the dying, and the dead...

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"We can't always predict the outcome of our actions…"

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Ostagar. The signal fire. The flanking charge that never came...

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"There can be no half measures…"

"Anders, what have you done?"

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"I love you."

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A great dragon with scales of wine red, black ichor dripping from its talons, tongues of fire licking up its jaws...

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"…There can be no peace."

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The world goes dark…

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"When the time comes for your regrets… remember me."

I became aware of something cold and hard digging into my side. Grudgingly, and still in a sleepy sort of stupor, I tried to roll over, assuming I'd gone to bed without unbuckling my sword belt. There was a warm, thick blanket over me and a pillow under my neck. Concern that I might be anywhere but home did not surface, at first.

But then my shifting elbow rammed into something sharp. Like jagged stone.

Okay. I didn't keep any giant rocks beside my bed… did I?

Other senses began to strain as consciousness reclaimed them. A whispering echo was drifting through the room. The air was earthy, dank, decayed smelling; and there was no familiar trace of dried herbs or woodsmoke. My mouth was dry, my muscles were stiff, and I was definitely laying on rocky ground, not a comfortable bed. This couldn't be home. Unless I'd died and been reborn as a glow-worm. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

My eyes opened to cold, palpable, suffocating darkness.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

Deep breath, Athena, I told myself, feeling my throat constrict to choke the fear that rose up like bile. Isn't that what you do when you think you might be dead? Breathe first, then sit up. If you can breathe you're still alive… Are you breathing? My body was so tense it was difficult, even painful to draw in air. But I could do it.

Not dead… Then, where was I? Why didn't I remember coming here?

Placing my palms firmly against the ground on either side, I tried to sit up. The motion pulled the blanket away, and I realized nothing covered me but my smallclothes. Instinctively I reached back down to pull the covering up, even though I was in a pitch-black room and appeared to be alone. My fingers wrapped around a mass of silky feathers. Surprised, I ran my hand further down the blanket, and realized it wasn't a blanket at all. It was a coat. More specifically, it was Anders' black, feather-pauldroned renegade coat.

Anders.

Suddenly, everything came flooding back. The argument, the explosion, the burning city. Screams piercing the night air from all directions. Death piling up around me, at every turn, in every corner. The blood. So much blood – running in dark little rivers down the steps, pooling in the street, dripping off my blade.

His empty, dreadful ultimatum: "There can be no peace."

I flung the jacket away with a hysterical cry, as if it carried the blight. The motion aggravated a tightly bound injury on my waist, which brought on a heavy wave of nausea.

Oh, right; I'd been stabbed, too.

The terrible visions assaulted me in equal measure to the physical pain, and I was forced to relive the agony of every horrifying, gut-wrenching moment at once. I shut my eyes again, tightly, desperately. Which was stupid, because the visions were in my head and there was no escaping them, as long as I lived.

After that, I must have passed out again. Because otherwise I was suddenly laying down next to a warm, roaring fire, with a wet rag over my forehead, a throbbing headache, and no reasonable explanation.

The coat had been replaced by some unidentifiable fabric. The spread was threadbare and putrid smelling. But it was a hundred times more endurable.

It was hard to think, and harder to move. At least I felt calmer now, if only because I was too dizzy to feel anything else. Still, resisting the urge to get up with all haste and look around was difficult. I had to remind myself it would be smarter to take things slowly. Another bout of unconsciousness would definitely not be a progressive step forward.

Without turning my head, I let my eyes roam the room. Correction: cavern. With the firelight to assist, I could now see that I was in a great limestone cavity. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, about fifteen meters up. In the corners, glow worms spread their sticky, bioluminescent strings between the structures. The creatures would have provided light even in total darkness, so I had to be in a chamber other than the one where I first came-to. That meant one of two things: In addition to almost dying, I'd developed an ability to sleepwalk, or someone else had moved me.

Something shifted to left of the fire. "Ooh… It's been hours. Do you think she'll wake back up soon? Are you sure she didn't hit her head?"

Merrill. Her trill voice was unmistakable.

"Patience", Aveline's voice chided gently. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Shouldn't we tell–"

"No." The response was too short to belong to anyone but Fenris.

"There's nothing to tell, yet", Aveline tried to explain, "She's still not awake."

"But she was awake", Merrill insisted quietly. I was finding it difficult not to smile, despite myself. The pleasure faded as the young elf continued, "He's still a healer. He might know about something we should do… or not do. And he's her husband. We should let him know she's started coming around, shouldn't we? Anders had been sooo worried, after all… he tries not show it, but he might as well try pretending his arm hadn't been chopped off, if it had. I know he still cares about her. Even if you don't like him, Fenris, you can't–"

It sounded like Fenris slammed something onto the ground – a cup, or an armored fist. "If you wish to seek him out on the coast, you may do so! Go! I'll take no more of this incessant prattle!"

"Ca-an't the r-est of you get on f-or a, f-few hours… without me?" I was startled by how raw and shaky my voice sounded. It was truly a wonder the others heard it at all. Dying men, their chests crushed by mauls, had spoken to me with less hoarseness.

"Athena!", Merrill squealed happily.

"M-errill", I returned, trying to twist my neck so that I could see her face.

"Thank the Maker." Aveline was at my shoulder in an instant, removing the washcloth and putting a hand over my forehead to check for fever. Satisfied, she lifted me carefully into her lap so that I could see my companions without strain. "You gave us a right good scare, Hawke."

"They, say I, have a… t-alent, for that." My eyes sought Fenris.

He was kneeling before me, looking relieved, "I am… glad, to see that you're well."

Merrill was still beside herself, "Ohh, I knew you would come back to us!"

The headache made me wince. "H-ow, l-long have I…?"

"You've been unconscious for seven days", Aveline answered. She anticipated the next question, and spared me the difficulty of putting it into words. "We've taken shelter in some caves along the Wounded Coast, not far from where you fell. A handful of patrols have been through the area, but so far it seems they're more concerned with cleaning up the city than hunting us down. Even if it were otherwise, this place is defensible and out of the way, and there's more than one exit. We only move outside at night, when there's no chance of being caught. Rest easy, Hawke. Everything's under control."

I closed my eyes, "Wh-ere, are the... others?"

"Varric and Donnic are keeping watch outside. Bethany and Anders are somewhere along the coast, looking for food, and herbs to make into a salve for your wounds. They'll be back by dawn. That's in a couple of hours."

"A-anders is, s-till here?" I wasn't sure how to feel about that. My stutter, however, was extremely frustrating.

"He has remained present. To everyone's surprise and great displeasure", Fenris explained sulkily.

"Not mine", Merrill shot back, sounding defensive. "I was sure he would stay – for Hawke."

For me, I thought bitterly. As if, after everything he had done, Anders believed I was still stupid enough to bare my heart to him. It was insulting. But maybe I had that coming. He had tricked me into helping him with his plot to raze Kirkwall, after all. I'd followed the fiend as blithely as a lamb to the slaughter. Afterwards, when the blood began to run, and the horrible truth came to light, when justice had been my own to administer, I'd failed to exact retribution. There's was no denying that moral failure. Quite simply: I could have killed Anders. I should have killed Anders. But I didn't.

Then exactly what Aveline had just said hit me. "W-w-wait", I stammered, beginning to feel incredibly sick again, "J-ust Bethany, and, Ander-s?"

"Y-es…", came her reply. She sounded confused.

"Are you feeling alright, Athena?", Merrill asked, "You look very pale suddenly. Maybe you should lie back down."

I forced myself completely upright, drawing on my rapidly kindling anger for the strength to do so, and faced Aveline with a furious glare, "Y-you let, Be-thany go, in-to the w-wilder-ness, al-one with that, ab-omin-ation?"

There was a sort of stupefied silence. I felt my pulse spiking under my ribs.

"We've been more concerned about you", the captain explained defensively. It was obviously the only reasonable excuse she could come up with. "Besides. Bethany's no child. She knows how to take care of herself as well as any of us."

"So it t-akes th-th-…three of y-you to sit, ar-round, ke-eeping an eye on, me, while I'-m un-con-scious? … A-nd nobody th-th-thought it would, be a, g-ood id-dea to s-end s-omeone with my s-ister, and the poss-poss-… possessed mal-e-ficar, who, nearly, des-troyed, Kirkwall!?", I demanded, pulling away from Aveline's hand as she tried to grab me. The burly woman seemed hesitant to use any real force against my emaciated frame.

Instead she tried to reason with me. "You need to calm down, Hawke. You're too weak to–"

"I w-ill n-ot, calm. DOWN!", I cried, trembling violently, "E-everything is n-ot under, control! I h-ave to f-find her– I have to, go–" This was more than the anemic skeleton I'd become could take. A brutal fit of coughing ensued. The pain was excruciating, and for a moment I thought – even hoped – I might pass out again. My body curled inward as every heave sent waves of agony rippling from the stab wound in my gut. My head seemed likely to implode on itself and the air was filled with a sharp ringing sound that blocked out almost everything else.

I did manage to hear Aveline's rather petulant exclamation of "Shit!"

Then, there was a hand on my shoulder – not rough, but firm – and someone was pulling me against their chest. I thought it was the guard captain, but was no longer in any position to fight. Crippled by the bout of coughing, all I could do was keep my eyes shut and endure.

Several still minutes passed before the ringing in my ears lapsed into a dull throbbing that beat in time to my weakly pounding heart. I was trembling all over, and hesitant to risk speaking again for fear of another attack.

"Hawke –. Athena…" I was startled by the deep voice of Fenris in my ear, and, looking over, I realized he was the one who was holding me upright, not Aveline. The elf warrior's moss green eyes were wide and full of concern, his dark eyebrows knit together under messy white hair, "Can you hear me, my friend?"

I gave a weak nod in reply, reduced as I was to a whimpering invalid.

"It's all right." These were strange words to hear from his mouth, especially considering the circumstances. I was compelled to listen. "Your sister will be fine", he continued, "And she'll return soon. Everyone is safe. I promise."

I promise.

Fenris would not lie to me. Fenris never lied to me. The others might, if they thought it would spare me pain, but not him. Never him.

"You… promise", I repeated.

"Yes."

Slowly, I relaxed, resting my head against his chest. Fenris tensed, but made no move to lay me back onto the cold stone. His heart was beating steadily under my ear, with no trace of fear in it. The steadfast drumming was soothing to my nerves. It pounded away my own throbbing aches like rainfall drowning out sorrow. For several minutes, I forgot everything else and just listened to it.

Then Fenris shifted, as if to draw away. Fear gripped me. Childish fear, but fear all the same. "D-on't–", I began. I was loathe to leave the unexpected sanctuary, to face the bitter darkness of my own soul. That beating heart was something real to focus on besides what I suffered; something alive to find comfort in after so long in the arms of death.

Fenris gave a quiet, bemused kind of chuckle that confused me. "Festis bei umo canavarum", he murmured. Then I realized he had retrieved the thin blanket off the ground, and was wrapping it like a shawl around my bare shoulders.

Aveline and Merrill were silent.