Chapter 7: Hawke

"Oi, brother! Mage! You had both better come look at this!"

Carver stood before an ornate, metal-wrought, gryphon symbol that was mounted on the wall. It looked positively foreboding.

It was a crest, spotted with rust and obscured by decades of accumulated grime and dust. Compounding this were the resilient tree roots that had crept through the ceiling's fault lines, gradually swelling over time. The force had strained the roof to fracture and rift; and sand and rubble had sifted through, piling on the stone floor.

The same crest was mirrored on Carver's polished armour; the Grey Wardens' symbol. But that wasn't what he was looking at.

Encased in the gryphon's clawed grasp was a pulsating red orb of light.

Carver pointed bluntly at it, and then broadened his gesture with a sweeping motion to encompass the entire room. All around us, there were these strange orbs, each one a nebulous sphere of reflected light. There was a second in another crest, and three more were imprisoned behind a golden barrier beside us. Behind it, a shadowy figure lurked just beyond proper comprehension; a twisted kind of black shape that looked vaguely familiar in an 'I do not have fond memories of you' kind of way.

"Those're magic." It wasn't phrased as a question, but I felt like Carver wanted an answer. That was probably why he had called Anders over. I was certainly not the best person to front questions concerning strange, magical paraphernalia.

I turned back to the orb before us, it certainly looked magic. It rippled and waned, flaring with energy and power, brighter than the others, like a tiny suspended star; a red dwarf. It was a curious thing, bouncing and spinning as it did. I wanted to know what it felt like, what it meant. I reached an arm out towards it.

Behind my shoulder, I heard Anders make that little stifled noise in his throat that he always does when he is worried about me. How adorable.

Anders had often complained about my compulsion to touch unknown, dangerous things. Said I was curious and cat-like; adoring of everything that shone or moved differently. His words, not mine. I understood that to mean that Anders loved that about me. He liked cats after all.

So, that little noise meant, 'Keep up the good work being irresistible, Hawke. I will ravish you later.' Score one Hawke.

As my plated fingers broke through the lucent edge of the sphere, a pleasant, tingling warmth encased them, like a thousand benevolent pin-pricks. Then the orb disappeared, enveloping itself in a small implosion; a folding collapse. My fingers were cold again.

Simultaneously, a blue light burst into life next to the barrier, stealing its brightness from the dulled orbs. A deep voice boomed out from it. I jumped in fright and drew my blade at the shadowy figure that stood within.

"Be bound here for eternity: hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be." Its pinpoint blue eyes stared out at me with such corporeality, but the form was transient. It wasn't real. Still, its voice resonated around the chamber with odd presence and familiarity, and then it was gone.

"What was that?" I gaped, "What did he say? Bound? Did he just curse us with hunger and no desire?" I didn't feel any different, but there had been power in that voice. It wasn't just a proclamation; it had felt weightier than that. "What in the void just happened?"

"There is no way I am forfeiting my desire, Hawke." Isabella had appeared behind me, Varric in tow. Both must have been roused by that piercing voice.

"Sounded like a curse to me. We better not be trapped here for good, Hawke. Do you know how hard I work to stay above ground? Stupid, stubborn ancestors and their tradition. What do you think, Blondie?"

Anders wore his thinking face. Varric always called it his brooding face. Thinking made it sound more appealing. "I'm not sure," he finally said. Obviously he hadn't thought enough yet.

I decided to give him time to ponder, and approached the second Grey Warden crest on the opposite wall. I grasped the centre orb, feeling nothing concrete in its ephemeral light except that fleeting, tickling, heat. Then it too, disappeared.

Carver broke in. "You dolt, Garret. That was father's voice."

I looked back at the spot where the blue glow had appeared, encasing that captivating, compelling voice; my father's voice? Carver was so sure. I had been far older than he was when father had left us, why couldn't I remember that?"

Varric must have registered my confusion because he intervened, "How can you be so sure, Junior?"

Carver's reaction was unexpected; he averted his baby blue eyes from mine and glued them to his own foot, "Sounds exactly like Garret. You can't forget a voice if it's always there." The last was said with a disgruntled kind of eye roll.

Anders laughed softly, "I thought that too. Which made me think it was a demon, and if it's taking the form of your loved ones then… But that wasn't any kind of offer, it wasn't even a question…" his brow scrunched and his lips pressed together in a hard line. He was muttering the words back to himself. I walked cautiously over to the barrier, being careful not to disturb his flow of contemplation. Only the middle orb was aglow now. The rest had deepened into hovering, spinning energies, like blood swirling down a drain. Anders was still absorbed.

"Mmm?" I prompted.

He began again, "Your father has definitely been here before. He could have left certain… impressions, but the magic that would cause a resonance like that would have to be..." he sighed, breaking off the torrent of words. He pressed the knuckles of his long hands against his eyes, trying to squeeze out the right thoughts, or push back the wrong ones.

Obviously he had thought too much now. Everything he had said had been half formed and disjointed. "I don't know, Garret. I haven't seen anything like it before. It could be a trick. Be careful."

I flashed him a smile and thrust my thumb pointedly at my chest, "My middle name, sweetheart." With that said, I plunged my other hand through the golden partition to touch the centre sphere.

The wall of golden light was throbbing, but it felt incomplete, like we had broken it.

I thought about the similar partition that barred our path to the surface, and then, disturbingly, I remembered watching Anders' hurtling stonefist turn to dust when it had touched it. I looked back to my hand and it was, reassuringly, still whole, though it felt strangely detached.

The barrier had opened to admit my hand and, as though I were a catalyst, it began to devour itself. The sensation had a ripple effect and the barrier consumed itself from the centre like burning parchment.

I grasped the last bright orb, and as my fingers closed around it, the form behind was revealed.

It was a shade. Of course it was. And I had released it.

Easy enough to dispatch though; the five of us killed it quickly, as well as the other demons that it summoned for aid.

That voice rung out again, and I turned to see that my father's impression had appeared again. "I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place." It was almost like that blue conflagration was pacing towards us, "But I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world."

He began to taper as he reached us, and then he was gone. I stood, mouth agape, and let the echoes of my father fade into the stone. Even after he had disappeared, I felt the magic of him pass over me as though he had walked straight through.

"Huh" Varric said, voicing my thoughts exactly. I tried to contemplate the meaning of what my father had said. What would he be doing in a Grey Warden Fortress? And what were the Grey Wardens doing keeping demons as pets? At least father's head was in the right place: not releasing demons into the world. That was a legacy I could proudly follow. It all sounded very dark though. His voice held a bitter edge and there was something like hatred tinging his words. I had never heard him use that tone in my life.

The plot thickens.

As did the silence. I cleared my throat. "See, that wasn't so bad now was it? Consequence, once again, averted."

Anders frowned at me, as did Carver, but his glare I could weather.

"Hawke," Varric scolded, "I know I have built you this valiant, fearless persona, but that doesn't entitle you to go touching strange, magic things, especially if they have demons inside them!"

Isabella quirked an eyebrow at Anders and he blushed and looked away.

I dove in heroically to redirect the conversation, "Varric, you have it backwards. The story fodder I provide you is practically gift-wrapped. No embellishments needed." I gave him a smirk, "You're welcome."

He barked his laughter, "You haven't heard the half of them."

That was a bit concerning.

We walked on.

"More darkspawn," Anders mumbled, and his pale, spidery fingers were at his temples again.

I rolled my shoulders beneath my champion armour. It wasn't heavy, but the day was getting on and I was tired of carrying it. I swung the flat blade of my new sword off of my back, liking the way it felt. It was very balanced, very attuned to me and my fighting style, like it was made for me. I hoped Carver was jealous.

I bared my teeth and growled down the passage, breaking in to a run.

"There aren't that many, brother!" Carver kept pace beside me.

"Well I'm sorry I don't have taint whispering in my ears. Be nice if someone could let me know." I kept up my pace, not wanting to slow to a walk and admit defeat.

"Tell that to your boyfriend."

Whoa! Was that Carver acknowledging Anders and I? It felt weird. I preferred it when Carver would just awkwardly extricate himself from any situation in which the subject of my relationship with Anders came up. I hoped to the Maker it would never happen again. Having our relationship there to make him uncomfortable was fine, but this acceptance? It was too much power in his hands.

"I'll mention it tonight." I threw in a wink for good measure.

We rounded the corner and Carver swung his blade aggressively into the nearest hurlock. Disappointingly, there were only three of the creatures. I let my new weapon slice across the remaining two, before dodging a retaliation strike and then cleaving through one's armoured skull.

Isabella was next to me, blades flying, and the other Hurlock's skin soon hung off of its body in tattered strips. The ichor was thicker than blood, and it smelt putrid. I kept my mouth closed as it spurted back at me. The smell was burning now with conjured electricity. Isabella's frayed darkspawn collapsed to the ground.

Carver was still running, he barrelled into the next room towards a crouched figure that looked to be sifting through the debris. A figure that was decidedly not a darkspawn.

Carver collided straight into an opaque blue shield that materialized in front of him and Anders was running beside me now, shouting out to my brother. "Carver, no. Not darkspawn."

What in the Maker's name was that thing?

On the floor, Carver groaned. His eye was already swelling from the force of his collision. Anders crouched down next to him.

I walked forward. The -man?- before us was hunched over and he had looked up at our approach. He was so insignificant in the cathedral-like room. The lighting was low, but it was clear the room once held impressive grandiose. Now, creeping with taint and collapse, it had fallen into a severe state of disrepair; much like the unkempt form that hobbled towards us.

"The key?" He rasped. Great, another deranged Carta member looking for my damn sword.

He madly rushed towards us, limping in his heavy Grey Warden issue armour. Odd.

His gait was laboured and deformed, he held his arm up at an awkward angle, and he walked on the sides of his feet. He wouldn't meet my eyes when he reached us, but I could see that cloudy taint-ness that was characteristic of the crazy ones. Underneath the corruption, he wore the battle scars of a fierce fighter.

"Did they find it? The dwarves, I heard them… looking… digging…" He squinted around, looking very paranoid. I noticed his beard was coming out in clumps. "How do you bring the key here?"

"Oh, you mean this thing?" I let my sword fall from its sheath, making sure there was a semblance of intimidation in the gesture, "Don't really see the key resemblance."

"Magic, old magic, it is. Magic from the blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them."

I let out an exaggerated sigh, "You aren't another one of Corypheus's friends are you?"

"Do not say his name!" He spoke in a fervent, hushed whisper, his head swivelled furtively on his shoulders, "He will hear you! Do not wake him. Not when you hold the key."

"Let me guess, you want to drink my blood too?"

"Blood? The blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke? But you hold the key! The key to his death! Yes, I can show you out, yes."

Anders and Carver had joined me now. I wondered what had taken them so long. Were they swapping Grey Warden secrets?* I couldn't stand Anders paying attention to my brother. I knew that sounded petty even in my own head.

I turned back to the thing before me. This was wrong. Was he a man? Or a darkspawn? But he stood, or crouched rather, he spoke, he thought independently, he had a name: Larius. He said he would help us to find the way out.

Was this really the kind of guy I wanted to be following through the Deep Roads?

"Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people."

Isabela's brazen smirk tweaked at the corner of her mouth, "that does seem to be your type, yes." Her wicked eyes fell to Anders again. Could that woman go ten minutes without taunting him?

And what was that supposed to mean anyway?

"Excuse me?" Anders sounded so offended.

I looked between Anders and Larius, mentally comparing the two. No. Not even close. Anders was, admittedly, a little bit crazy, but who was I to point the finger? And he would never be that tainted. He was a Grey Warden, granting him taint immunity. Or something, I don't pretend to understand.

"Never mind," she said, but the smirk never left her face. I grasped Anders' hand in a show of support, or maybe just to tell him to lighten up. It was only a joke, if a tasteless one, but the man was nothing if not defensive. Even gauntleted, I felt like I could feel his warmth. I squeezed his fingers gently and let go.

"No," Larias continued, "not crazy. Trust me. I know the prison's secrets."

Oh, someone who is familiar with the trap of an ancient evil fortress that is trying to kill us, who better to trust?

Something about the key, seals, key, taint, seals, blood. Awesome. I've got this whole escape thing sorted. Stab the seals.

"Not back. Not up. Only way out is down and through the heart… down. Down in the depths." He scampered off furtively. I waved goodbye.

Carver stepped forward. "Careful. Things down here, they can get complicated. That man, and how corrupted he is? Remember that. That's what I'm fighting for."

"I'll arrange a 'thanking queue' when we're back in Kirkwall."

"Sure, make fun of the end of the world." When did Carver become so damn serious all the time?

"Best time for it, I'd think."

"Well... good."

"Good." Final word. Always, "Alright, let's get going then."

He strode forward, leading the party. Isabella skipped ahead to walk alongside him, "You've certainly...filled out, Carver…" A conversation I did not want to hear.

I drew back to Anders' side. He was absorbed with the path that his boots took along the stone road. He kicked a pebble and it skittered off to the side. I let my arm fall over his shoulders, and his whole body jumped; startled like a tharn rabbit. His eyes were wide for a second before softening.

"I'm sorry. I was just… thinking."

"Cheer up sweetheart." He managed a smile-like contortion. I knew he could have done better. "What was that thing? He was… different from the Carta."

Ahead, Carver turned with a start, and Anders almost stumbled into him.

"You mean you never told him!" It was an accusation overlain with bewilderment.

"Told me what?" Anders couldn't meet his eyes. Had he lied to me?

"I thought you claimed to care for him! What? You were just going to spring that on him when it was time for your calling?"

Anders' face was knotted with a pained grimace. He fidgeted and wiped sweaty palms on his coat. What hadn't been said? He opened his mouth, "I-"

"-I'm not going to be the one to tell him! I was counting on you to have already broken the news!"

"What news!" My voice was louder than I had expected it to be. It practically boomed in the cavernous room. Carver was silenced. He threw up his arms and stomped over to Isabella and Varric, who had stopped walking to pretend they weren't listening to our little domestic.

"Anders, what is he talking about?"

He looked up, his eyes were like pools of liquid amber, shining with something like sadness, or fear, or regret.

"I can't- I-I mean, I tried to tell you, Garret. I really did. But I didn't know how." He sighed heavily, and suddenly all of his burdens and all that he had endured withered next to the momentous action of disclosure. His shoulders slumped. Was talking to me really that hard? "We better stop for the night."

Did I even want to know?

*Anders and Carver were having a little chat about what a Grey Warden who does not die from the Calling feels like to the Warden senses. I imagine it would be darkspawn-like, but not obvious. Anders' has experience with Utha, hence he could distinguish Larius from the darkspawn, where Carver could not.