Warning: Character deaths ahead, next 10 miles.


Hunter's Fell, Nevarra. 9:40

'Another town, another shit-hole tavern…' Carver thought, glancing around the dark street. 'Maybe the name of this place will provide better hunting.' Entering the tavern, he made his way to the bar.

"Evening… if you're looking for a drink, beer's off. Plenty of whiskey, though" the attendant said, clearly bored.

"I'm looking for a woman, actually."

Snorting, the barman finally looked at him. "Who isn't?"

"A particular woman."

"Look around, boy, this place doesn't attract many women at all… go to the City, find yourself a brothel."

"I was told she travelled in this direction. Slightly shorter than me, black hair, green eyes-"

Noticing Carver's silver griffon ring and irritated glare, the barman thought for a moment. "Actually… sounds like Isabela. Yeah, she's been around." Grunting at his own unintended joke, he pointed to a far corner. "Looks like Artie's finally won her tonight. He's tried to wear her down for a week now."

"Tough luck for Artie…" Carver growled, crossing the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but she has to come with me now" he declared, standing over the pair.

"Piss off!" the man spat, turning back to his groping. Glaring at Carver's attempt to grab his arm, he stood up. "I been waiting my turn, you can do the sa-"

With a loud 'crack', Carver dropped him in a quick punch. "Let's go" he ordered the confused woman as she looked down at Artie, blood dripping from his mouth.

"A fight over little ol' me…" she slurred, "about time!"

"Oh, just get up" Carver groaned, sliding an arm around her back to lift her up as she reached for her staff. Dragging her away, he stopped and threw some coins to the barman. "That's for the mess…"

Dazed from the sudden movement, she wobbled uneasily before finally managing to look at Carver. "… Wait, what are you doin' here?" she asked in confusion, as her vision fell out of focus again.

"I'm trying to carry my surprisingly heavy sister out of this piss-trough…" he muttered, lifting her over the doorsill. "So would you please lift your feet when you walk?"

"You're the one tryna walk, yoooouuu do it" she replied, trailing off into a snore.

"… Unbelievable" he hissed, prying away their father's old staff before lifting her up over his shoulder. "Maker, Mar – you really did get fat living in Hightown, didn't you?" he exhaled jokingly.

"Oh sod off…" she shot back, before passing out again.


Reaching the small hovel he'd rented, Carver found the door bolted and let out a groan. 'She better not be asleep…' Giving the door a quick knock, he shifted Marian's position on his shoulder. "Merrill! Open the bloody door!"

A small commotion came from inside, before the door cracked open. "I'm sorry, I was getting changed and… oh, you found her! That was quick."

"Yeah, I finally lucked out" he nodded, sliding Hawke off his shoulder. "Here, give me a hand… just on the bed." Once they had her down, he rolled his shoulder over-dramatically.

"Nobody in the town remembered a Marian or the other names you said to try, when I asked around for her today… how did you find her?"

"I figured she had swapped names again by now, so I gave a description – she was calling herself Isabela, apparently… judging by the smell, she was drinking like Isabela, too." Wincing, he held out his hand. "Can you heal this for me? Feels like I busted something…"

"It doesn't feel too bad" she said, lightly channelling energy into his hand. "What happened?"

Sighing, he flexed his fingers once she finished. "Let's just say she was acting like Isabela, so I may have had to convince her would-be friend to let her go… I think I broke the bastard's jaw."

"Oh no, is he alright?"

"… Hopefully not, no."

"But if he's her friend… oh – you meant acting like Isabela… never mind me. Shall we just leave her in here?"

Nodding, Carver moved a bucket over to the side of the bed. "Let her sleep it off, we can decide what to do tomorrow." Grabbing pillows and a spare sheet from the closet, he followed Merrill into the entryway. "Here" he offered the sheet and one of the pillows, "you take the bench." Adjusting his pillow, he laid on the floor.

Effortlessly spreading out the sheet next to him, Merrill dropped down. "I doubt the bench is any softer" she pointed out, "so the sheet may as well cushion both of us."

"I won't argue" he sighed as he scooted over.

"What's wrong?"

"Seeing her like that… even when our father died, she held together. With Bethany, too. I should have done more for her…"

"She understood you couldn't visit."

"I mean when everything in Kirkwall fell apart… if I had any idea what Anders had really meant when he sent me a letter, saying 'she would need my help in days to come', I'd have marched to Kirkwall during the night as well…" he muttered, thinking back.

"Well I'll be damned" Varric kept muttering, staring at Meredith's new form as steam continued to rise off it. Mages and Templars were in similar disbelief, while eying each other cautiously for signs of renewed hostility. Aveline and … her husband, Ser Whoever, had run over to help me get Mar to her feet. We all marched through the streets in silence, back to her Estate. Gamlen, of all people, directed us on how to place her while someone found a physician to set her leg in place. I was playing cards with Gamlen and Charade, when Stroud and a few others arrived two days later, fire in his eyes.

"She wasn't even back on her feet, when they dragged me back to Ansburg and threw me in the cells for 'getting involved'…"

"You never mentioned being locked up."

"Probably would have simply been stuck on kitchen duty for the next ten years or so… until he found out about Anders. I don't know if he thought the Seekers would descend from on high and accuse us all of helping, but I got three months in the dungeon for vanishing without leave."

"You aren't worried, then? About what he'll do when you go back, I mean."

Frowning, he shook his head. "I'm not going back… I've spent most of my life running, and letting Mar carry everything by herself. I finally realised I was beside her, not behind… so it's well past time I stood my ground, and made up for all the shit I heaped on her." Blinking back a tear, Merrill smiled and snuggled up against him as he turned in confusion. "What?"

"You're a good man, emma lath" she whispered, before softly kissing him. "I'm glad to hear you say that, too… I spent nine years waiting for one of us to say something, so you better not leave." Watching her fall asleep, he stared at the ceiling waiting for his own slumber to take him.

A good man? I sure wish I thought so… feels like everything I've done the last ten years has been about death and blood. The sound of Artie gurgling on the floor briefly entered his mind, before it jogged the memory of someone else coughing up blood.

There was always something I didn't like about that bastard… beyond his smugness and the 'oh, hi, I'm a stuck-up Princeling windbag who gets off from stringing your sister along' thing. I arrived as he was giving his rant about raising an army… Mar just listened to him, sadly, before holding out that knife she always carried. "I am not making him into a martyr for his lunacy. If his blood is so important to you, you take it… I need to go prevent another massacre" she told him, before leaving the two of them amongst the debris. Bastard was screaming at her back about how she was' no better than the rest of the accursed mages' the whole way.

Everyone else just marched along with her silently, even Fenris, before they realised I was even there. I simply had to nod and fall in step next to her, and none of them even questioned it… at least, until we stopped at the Estate. While Marian was telling Gamlen, Charade and the servants to barricade the doors and go to the cellar, Aveline quietly pulled me aside. I was too distracted by Fuzz-Face hobbling over to sniff me and bark hello to even remember her questions… amazing how long that dog lived, especially with our lives. His age didn't stop him trying to protest when we left him behind, until she knelt down. "We'll handle this one, Fuzzy." He whined, as he always did. "I know you're still a warrior, boy – that's why you're going to make sure nobody scales the wall into the garden while we're gone. Chase them into a wardrobe again, if they try." He licked her face, and went out into the enclosed garden.

Before we headed for the Docks, Mar stopped and gave everyone a last chance to back out… Aveline cut her off by saying her Guards would handle the City. Before the rest of us could say 'not a chance' to her, fucking Anders came staggering up and wanting to 'help'. "Sebastian simply walked away, screeching 'my return will set this right – and I will be not goaded by some misborn bitch into committing murder'…" Hypocritical little prig, considering how we even met him in the first place. I may not have been paying much attention to the words, all those things I went to Service when I knew Sister Leliana was going to sing the Chant, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Canticles about 'murder's nice and moral if you pay someone to do it for you'. Cowardly creep just never could get his own hands dirty… except that one damned time.

We finally made it back to the Estate, after leaving the Gallows. Aveline and Gamlen took over, shouting orders to keep everyone focused – Fenris to watch the street, Isabela to find a physician, Merrill to dig out the red lyrium shards from Marian's leg and do what little healing magic she could… I don't even remember if that Fereldan Warden or the slimy-sounding Elf who showed up at the Gallows were still around at this point. With all that distraction, we didn't have time to notice – until the creepy kid… Sandal? went out into the garden, and flew backwards inside a few moments later, bawling and pointing. I raced Aveline and Varric to the door, but I think we all knew exactly what had happened… Fuzzy was by the base of a tree, with a good eight or nine arrows through him. Another arrow was stuck in the tree itself, with a note. 'Now we both have nothing left' and a weird pattern – I still say those 'dragons' look more like three eels. "Starkhaven's emblem" Varric spat, crushing the paper.

"Nobody says anything to Hawke" Aveline said, glancing over at Bodahn to make sure he understood as well, "not yet…" She walked away and muttered something to her husband, who turned and left the Estate. I shot her a questioning look, but she just did her 'Guard-Captain on duty, so shut your gob' stare until I gave up.

Which was about when Isabela came back with "Old Walter, he fixes up injuries at the Docks" and directed Bodahn to show him up to Marian's room. Once they were gone, she looked around at us. "Big Girl was making her 'don't mess with this bitch' face when I came in – what's going on?"

Varric just cracked his head left and right, scowling. "We're going to find Choir Boy… and kill him."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to Aveline, who led her over to a window into the garden. "… Fucking rat bastard… he's so dead" she hissed, tightening the strap on her dagger belt.

The Elf-Girl stuck her head out of the kitchen, where Sandal was still sobbing, with a stricken look on her face. "Is… is it true? Mistress' dog?"

"Get some water boiled, please" Gamlen gruffly asked, appearing from nowhere. "And try to calm the boy down… she's out cold, for the moment, but I don't want him waking her up." Rubbing his face, he turned to us. "If you're going to catch that piece of shit, you better move fast." Glancing at my heavy armour, he frowned. "Quite a task for you, boy… come on – your sister still has those chests full of odds and ends in the storage wing, and you need to travel light."

Selecting some leather armour, I looked about at all the junk in the side-room. "She still hasn't learnt to throw out anything, has she?" I half-heartedly joked, adjusting the boots.

"I'm still around, so no" Gamlen muttered, "but I suppose that's your sister… always thought things and people were worthwhile, no matter how dull or decrepit they seemed."

"Yeah… I'm just glad that mess up in the Vinmark tomb got us talking again. Family's family, right?"

"Damn right, my boy… look, I know I was a bastard years ago, when you arrived-"

"So was I, considering you took in the four of us when you barely had the room or food for it-"

He waved me down, "Just… let's talk about this when you've done the deed? And… make sure it hurts." As I turned to leave, he spoke again. "Leandra would have been proud, to see you today… I... shit, never was any good at this… well, we both know what losing a sister feels like, don't we? Go get that bastard, and I'll make sure you don't lose another one."

We finally found 'that bastard', two hours outside of Kirkwall and almost to the Vinmarks "Leaving without a goodbye? Better say it for him, Bianca" Varric whispered to himself… or maybe the crossbow, who knows with him? Two bolts through the kneecap dropped Sebastian into the dirt, as 'Bela and I charged in. He almost had his bow up, but she ended the threat with a boot to the face. While she kicked him in a few other places, ribs and … further down, I grabbed the bow by one end and planted a boot on the other – it was a bit tougher than kindling sticks, but it snapped just the same.

"So, that bitch sent her little servants?"

"No" Varric replied, seemingly calm, as he walked up with Bianca locked and loaded. "She's still unconscious… remember that red lyrium, and what it did to Bartrand's manor? Meredith had it, and began… what would you call it? Making demons possess the courtyard statues to fight for her, I suppose. After we rooted out the one Blood Mage in the Circle, that is. Doing Meredith's job for her… again, and as usual Hawke was left wounded for her troubles."

"What, the Abomination is too busy bathing in blood to help?" he sneered in response, clearly ignoring the part about Meredith, spitting out a glob of blood.

'Bela gave him another crack to the ribs, before shaking her head. "He wanted 'Justice', and he got it… she handed him over to Cullen, once it was all done. Right now, the Templars have him healing all the wounded from his handiwork… and after, I expect they'll do what Templars do best." Shoving her backwards, he pulled out Mar's knife and slashed towards her… but the dopey bastard didn't account for me; I reached down and wrenched his shoulder loose. He howled and carried on while 'Bela took the dagger and held it to his throat. "After they cuffed him in irons, she dragged Anders over to the remaining Mages. 'This man… is not a hero, or a liberator, or even an idealist. This man is a liar, coward, murderer... betrayer. This man's actions would doom you all, for the sake of his own vengeance; send you all to war over his own pain. None of it was done for you…' I don't know if she had more to say, she finally collapsed at that point, but she wanted to make sure they saw what he was. As she tried telling you, making him into some kind of martyr hero then and there was exactly what he wanted… but you've never listened to anyone but yourself, have you? Not even the Cleric, for all the noise you make about her now? Oh, the Big Girl had you pegged from the start – too wrapped up in your own misery to give a damn about anyone else… you're exactly like Anders, aren't you?"

"Spare me your empty moralising, and get it over with!"

Varric shook his head, and took aim. "'Spare the empty moralising'? … Hypocritical to the fucking end" he spat, putting a bolt between his eyes. Isabela directed us to carry the body and wedge it between rocks in the mountain pass, while she kicked the dirt back and forward to cover any prints showing there had been a struggle.

Back in Kirkwall, Guardsman Boring, or whatever her new husband is called, stopped us in Hightown and whispered something to Varric. He nodded and told us to let him do the talking. "Don't we always?" was Isabela's response. We got back to the Estate, where Aveline was talking to the old Seneschal.

"No luck" Varric offered. "By the time we found him, he'd been ambushed up in the pass through the Vinmarks."

"I suppose it falls to me, to send word to Starkhaven" Bran sighed. "Thank you, Guard-Captain" he saluted, and left.

'Bela waited a moment after the door clicked shut, and asked "If he asks me later, what's the story?"

Aveline stood up and shrugged, "You forgot already? We received rumours that Lady Harimann's old allies had men stationed here, in case Sebastian ever got serious about taking the throne. I guess they overheard his proclamation, and followed him into the mountains… damn shame, I always warned him about haphazardly throwing his privilege about, the way he did. Varric, you remember those rumours about those men?"

"Absolutely, Guard-Captain" he purred, a touch of menace still in his voice.

"See? Varric hears everything in this town…" looking incredibly tired, she slumped back into a chair. "But it's all taken care of?"

"No sign we were there" Isabela replied, "and the boys stuck him up where the vultures will reach him first."

"Good. May they feast on his corpse..."

"And shit him into the ocean" I finished.


Wincing, Carver half-heartedly brushed a hand across his cheek. Something touched there again, making him open his eyes in frustration. 'Is it morning already?' A finger entered the edge of his vision, tapping his face gently. "Hrrmm, stop it…what's going on?"

"I think Hawke's awake… I heard something in there" Merrill murmured, with a sleepy expression.

Listening carefully, he heard something scrape across the floor. "She probably knocked the bucket over… which means-" he was interrupted by the sound of retching from the bedroom. "The morning chorus…" he groaned, sitting up.

"Where's my damned walking stick?" Hawke loudly croaked from the next room, while Merrill loaded a tray with fruit from the pantry. "My Pa left me that!" Shaking his head, Carver grabbed the ornate staff from where it had fallen the night before. Blinking at them in surprise when they entered the room, she rolled onto her back to face them directly. "Stop walking so loud" she groaned, glancing at the tray Merrill placed next to her. "So I wasn't imagining voices last night…"

"Hello, Hawke" she beamed, getting a tired wave in response.

"H'lo Merrill… not to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I know you said you wanted to be alone, when you left Kirkwall… but Varric and Isabela came to see me at my hut outside the city a few months ago, to say goodbye, and Varric said the Seekers had been looking for you. He thought you needed to know, or be warned, whatever you preferred…" Taking a quick breath, she continued. "But I had no idea how to find you, and Aveline's the only one from the old days still in Kirkwall, so I had to find Carver and hope he might figure something out… well, I don't want to ramble on, so it took us a few months before we found you."

Slowly processing the information, Hawke rubbed her brows. "… Okay, the Seekers are on the hunt – I got that part. Varric and Isabela left?"

"Something very hush-hush… nobody tells me anything after you left, I'm sorry" Merrill said, visibly crushed to be out of the loop. "I thought he might have known where to write you, but he wouldn't say either way…"

"The Seekers probably left someone to watch his out-going mail" Carver shrugged, walking over.

"That's a good point…" she considered.

"So that's everyone gone from Kirkwall, I suppose" Hawke muttered, taking a small bite of fruit.

"I think so, if Fenris is still on 'Bela's ship – I didn't see him… no, Aveline is still there."

"Of course… the stubborn old bitch."

Confused, Merrill hesitantly repeated the last word as if it would curse her. "… Bitch? Aveline?"

"Make her bloody Captain, and she up and refuses to even consider Carver… even though she's got openings left and right from all of Jeven's corrupt goons that she's throwing out." Twisting to look at him, Hawke continued. "I wouldn't have had to drag you down those damned tunnels… you could have stayed with Mother and I – I wouldn't have had to count on fanatics and madmen… and you certainly wouldn't have let Mother start seeing some maniac without knowing everything about him…"

"We'll never know that… I probably would have done something stupid to ruin it all" Carver said, quickly snatching some grapes from the tray. "Like this…"

"Greedy bastard" Hawke grinned. "So you two tracked me all the way here?"

Smirking, he popped a grape into his mouth. "Please, Mar – Father taught us the same hiding tricks, of course I managed to find you. I just had to narrow the field."

"Well, don't let me interrupt your bragging… how did you narrow the field?"

"Orlais was obviously out, Ferelden is the first place people would look for you... since Father always said that people expect you to go to friends for help, and never go where they expect you to... so given that Antiva and Rivain were Isabela's stomping ground, and Seheron isn't worth considering, that left Nevarra… "

"You thought about it more than I did" Hawke replied. "But your plan was wrong – Merrill was from here, originally… right?"

"From what I remember" she nodded.

Scoffing, Carver pulled up a chair. "Doesn't count – they traded you to a Fereldan Clan for magic beans."

"Beans? No…"

"Ignore him, Merrill – it's an old kid's story… which probably means it's still his favourite book."

"Speaking of bad jokes…" Carver retorted, "I also remember how terrible Father's jokes were... so when people in Nevarra City heard your description and remembered 'Eileen, the woman with a scarred leg and fancy walking stick', I knew it had to be you."

She laughed hoarsely. "Can you believe nobody even understood the joke? I guess Nevarran fathers don't make stupid jokes..."

Staring at their amused faces in confusion, Merrill shrugged. "Is it a joke?"

"It's just something dumb our father used to repeat to make us groan - Eileen, the one-legged woman... because she leans." When the explanation just made Merrill's expression seem more puzzled, Hawke laughed again. "Forget it, I'm sure you didn't come here for bad comedy... even though I'm good at it."

"We also wanted to see you again" Merrill started. "I mean, yes; you said you wanted to be left alone, but things are going badly according to Varric and you might need us… you made sure not to listen when I thought I wanted to be alone, so I should do the same for you. Right? So I'm just going to keep following you around. If it's not a bother, of course."

"You win, Merrill… how about you, Carver? Got some noble reason to follow me about, too?"

"You're my sister" he simply replied, leaning forward to pat her shoulder.

Nodding, Hawke slid her hands under the blanket to push herself up… stopping halfway with a disgusted look on her face, her left leg quickly moving to one side. "… I threw up in your bed."

Sighing, he just squeezed her shoulder again. "… Definitely my sister."


Thanks to everyone reading, and because I'm slow; my reviewers and Albino for the fave. Since I couldn't reply to 'guest': Thanks - I had to cut some of Morrigan's digs for being too far over the meta-knowledge border... she might be well informed, but not that much. Besides, Morrigan's more fun to write when reinterpreting events so she can insult her three least favourite people.

This chapter almost went longer... but a Firefly reference is always a good point to stop. The remaining stuff might get recycled next chapter (I think I can get one more out of the set-up). The chapter title sucks, I know - drew a blank, so I dug out an old bird-watching book. It says a group of hawks is a 'Cast'... cue bad pun. I apologise for the Eileen joke, too.