Hawke Family Values
By: Adrienne Valentine
Summary: Twins run in the Amell family, it seems... A "What if" version of DA2 where both younger siblings lived, and the Champion had a twin.
Author's notes: I have had the chapters done and just haven't uploaded them because I've been busy. I am sorry. With Dragon Age Inquisition out, I got a spurt of inspiration.
Shepherding Wolves: Part Two
"I think she still has the locket. She doesn't know I know that she has it, either."
They ran into no more interference in the Warrens, the short trip from their last point that lead them out, only stopping to search a couple of chests along their way. Which had been a lucky find, the items hummed with enchantment even as Ophelia shoved them inside of the bag Carver carried. Soon they came across what must have been the exit. The smell was clearing, the air stirring, moving past them, and they could see the natural light coming from the entrance. This was where they were taking them. Though the question of why they would simply leave him came once more.
The passage opened out into the Vinmark mountains, the Wounded Coast stretching out in the distance. The breeze still smelt of salt and brine, even from the distance. The trees obscured their path lower down the mountain, and they were officially out of the city and out of the reach of the guards. Damian took the lead, then, trying to determine what they were going to do with Ketojan now that they had technically finished their mission. There was no obvious answer, and Ophelia kept an eye on the mage as if he would provide some answer, some insight into what he wanted. He provided nothing, walking beside them at an easy pace.
It was not until they approached a clearing that things started to become clearer. Though dusk was approaching, there was a group of Qunari, dressed for battle, making camp for the night. It did not sit well with them. They had hoped to avoid dealing with the Qunari for this. It had been why they had hoped to refuse the job. And the group caught sight of them before they had the chance to say anything. Had they not had Ketojan with them, they might have been able to pass without so much as a glance, but the quick formation, as one of them, wearing a cage steel mask, approached, taking the lead. He called out to them as they approached.
"You will hold, basra vashedan. I am Arvaraad, and I claim possession of Saaerbas at your heel." He called out and the groups stopped a good distance apart. Ophelia's hands were already draped over the hilts of her daggers, the derision in his voice setting her teeth on edge. "The members of his Karaatam were killed by Tal Vashoth, but their disposal leads only here, to Saarebas and you."
"How did I know this job would end in more Qunari..." Damian was scowling as he spoke, his own apphrension apparent. They had all sensed something about the Sister, about her intentions. This almost seemed the inevitable end to the job.
"You speak as if ignorance is your natural condition. The bodies of his slain Karataam could lead only here." The Arvaraad continued, his voice steady, more decisive and haughty than angry. "I do not know how you come to hold his leash, but you have no claim in the Qun. He will be returned and this crime cleanses."
"And if he doesn't want to go back?" Ophelia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing the Arvaraad with a level gaze of her own. He scoffed, stepping forward towards them as he spoke.
"Saaerbas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun." Ketojan let out another hollow growl and knelt before the Qunari, beside the Hawke twins. Then was the first time that they could see the lower half of his face, before covered by the collar worn round his neck. She could not tear her eyes away from his mouth. His lips were sewn shut, and despite some room allowed, it seemed, to breath and perhaps eat, the intent was obvious. He was not meant to speak.
"He has only followed you because he wants to be led. He is allowed no other purpose." She gritted her teeth as the Qunari before them spoke, not trusting herself to respond. Anger bubbled beneath her, hands returning to rest on her daggers. Damian spoke instead, his tone holding curiosity instead of the anger she felt.
"The sister called him "Ketojan." You are Saaerbas?" He asked the question to the mage, who looked at him placidly.
"Saaerbas is his role and his name as you understand it. It is the accusation and acknowledgement of being a mage." The answer angered her further, her fists clenching along the pommels of her daggers. She ignored the answer to what his own name mean, still not liking the tone that he was using. Something about his words seemed to grate against her brother as well, and though his next question also held curiosity, she could hear the anger and frustration in his own voice.
"He is bound and abused, and you want him caged? Why?" He demanded the answer, though his tone was still more polite than her own would be.
"The power that he has, that all Saaerbas have, draws from chaos and demons. They can never be in control." He explained, turning from the group as he explained the reasoning. She had heard it before, about mages, and she did not hold her tongue.
"So you fear them?" She bit out the answer, her own derision at the idea evident.
"We leash saaerbas because they are dangerous and contagious. Not even your templars fully grasp that threat." He spoke with a tone that implied that such information was obvious, that only someone simple could not understand that mages needed to be bound like this. She bit her tongue once more, trying not to let her anger get them into trouble and letting her brother speak for them.
"I wield the same power, and I am no danger to you unless I chose to be." He argued, his tone speaking of his affront, and it was obvious that this was not something he should have said.
"You... are saaerbas? Bas saaerbas?" The Arvaraad backed away slowly, and though she could not see his face behind his mask, she would have bet a soveriegn that his matched those nearest in his group. Wide and shocked, fear edging them. He turned to those under his command and spoke in their foreign tongue, barking out orders before turning back to Damian, pulling a sword off of his back. This time his anger was apparent. "You spewed your words at me like a demon trying to poison my control! Like this mage, the Qun requires your death!
"But we're no threat to each other." He spoke up, though the attempt was obviously futile at this point.
"Bas saaerbas! You will be no threat to anyone!" Arvaraad shouted, pulling a sceptre out as well, quickly aiming it towards Ketojan and uttering a command word.
The mage grunted in pain as the off white magic of the collar enveloped him, causing him to double over, panting and unmoving on his hands and knees before them as the Qunari warriors moved into action. Their leader went straight for Damian, who was able to duck out of the way, barely in time, swinging his staff and hitting the large foe across the back, sending flames licking across the metal and burning the skin there. Ophelia drove in as well, slashing at the back of his thigh before spinning, blades leading, and going after another approaching Qunari.
The weapons they seemed to favor seemed designed for distance, pole arms were not her favorite weapon to fight against and she had to turn out of the way sharply to avoid being impaled before driving a dagger into the Qunari's shoulder. He didn't even cry out as she pulled the blade back. That was perhaps the most disturbing part, and why she hated fighting the Qunari so much. They did not respond to pain like most of the opponents she was used to. It gave her enough pause that the qunari had the oppurtunity to turn, hitting her with the side of his pole arm hard enough to send her back a step, breath forced from her lungs.
She grabbed the pole and tried to yank it out of his hand sharply, but it had no effect, his grip much tighter than his. His lips twitched in what might have been a smirk before he used the same pole to knock her down, swinging it with her still holding on, hitting her stomach hard. She stumbled back and fell, having little time to think before she rolled to one side as he stabbed where she had fallen. She had to rely on her reflexes, balancing on her hands and kicking the Qunari as he lunged at her again. One foot hit him in the nose, a crunching noise coming from under her heel. The other foot hit his shoulder, and the combined attacked sent him back. She took the oppurtunity to jump to rebalance, landing on her feet, propelling her momentum forward and into his exposed stomach. She tugged sideways as she withdrew her daggers, stumbling backwards, off balance.
The qunari made to charge her, only to be stopped by an explosion of fire raining down on him and a couple other qunari. She waited a breath, regaining balance, before rushing forward, dodging fire as Damian's spell continued. She barely had time to think while fighting the Qunari, her body reacting to the dangers and attacks. She rolled, and lunged, and struck out where she could find a weak spot. She had been getting too used to common thugs. The enemies blurred into one before her eyes as she moved from one to another with little delay. She barely thought to drink a potion until someone shoved one into her hand as she stumbled back from the attack of another Qunari. She drank it and was back into battle, slashing at her opponent's arm as he stuck her with a pike. Carver came from behind, driving his greatsword through their enemy. She gave a nod of thanks and turned to find another enemy, only to see the last of the Qunari fall under a volley of bolts and lightening.
She was exhausted, her body sore and battered as she pulled the pike out of her side, breaking the shaft before pushing the wood through the other side of her skin, hissing in pain. It had struck through the fleshy part of her skin and she wished that they had brought Anders. The mage could have her wound healed in seconds. She held a hand at her side before she moved towards the Qunari mage, Saaerbas, who still seemed bound by the magic of his collar.
"Can you stand?" She asked him, concern in her voice despite herself. He grunted, motioning towards the sceptre that the Arvaraad had pulled out and used against him. She walked over to the item and regarded it curiously. She held it for a moment, pointing it in his direction before it reacted, letting out a small blast of energy as it released the Saaerbas.
"I am... unbound. Odd... Wrong... But you deserve honor. You are now Basvaraad, worthy to be followed. I thank your intent, even if it was... wrong." He spoke slowly, the strain on his voice making it clear it had been some time since he had spoken. He began to walk of his own violition, and Ophelia followed him. "I know the will of the Arvaraad. I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom... Of the Qun."
"So after all of this, now you want to die?" She asked as they walked towards the shore. He didn't glance back as she spoke to him. He stopped at the edge of a small cliff, the waves crashing beneath them. He was silent for a long moment, facing away from her.
"I do not want to die. I want to live by the Qun." He said finally, his voice holding the same strained, weak, but assured note to it.
"Which means dying." She clarified, trying to keep the disapproval out of her voice.
"Yes. Is that hard to grasp?" He asked, and she was slightly surprised by his insight. She nodded, despite that he could not see her. She stood there, opening her mouth, closing it, staring at him in some confusion, repeating the process a couple times more. She sighed, finally, and spoke.
"My job ended when we exited the city. The rest is up to you." She said, her voice laced with despair and annoyance in equal parts.
"You know of certainty and borders. You are closer to the Qunari than you admit. Your role would change little if you accepted the Qun." Saaerbas said, turning to her finally as he spoke. She may have imagined it, but he almost seemed to smile. He stopped to reach under his collar, tugging on a chain there to take the necklace off, and he walked towards her with it. She held out her hand and he placed the amulet in her palm. "Take this secret thing, Basvaraad. Remember this day."
She curled her fingers around it, saying nothing as he stepped away from her. Once he was a fair distance away, she felt it. The air pulled towards him, holding the smell of blood and sea, and suddenly, he was engulfed in his own flame. She took a step back in surprise, a quiet strangled noise escaping her throat, swallowed by the sound of the fire as it roared. The heat was scalding her eyes, but she refused to look away from the sight. Despite the flames, his face looked serene and he did not move for some time as the flames licked at his form. He collapsed under the flames, sinking first to his knees before falling forward. The flames did not die until they had consumed him entirely. The charred corpse left in its wake barely resembled the Qunari mage they had escorted. Part of her wanted to bury his body, ashes already flaking off as the wind rustled it; but it was still too hot for her to approach.
"He could have been free..." Damian muttered, and his voice carried to her ears. She nodded absently and turned back to her brother, pocketing the amulet he had given her. She did not know when the rest of the group had joined her to watch the Saarabas burn himself. Her brother stepped up to her and reached forward, brushing aside a tear she hadn't even realized had made its way down her cheek. The others were still staring intently at the charred corpse and did not see the interaction between the siblings. His face changed suddenly, realization spreading across it and he turned to the group, anger in his voice. "Petrice set this trap. I want to know why."
The journey back to the city was far quicker, the entire group practically livid at the set up. It was well past dark by the time they arrived at the safehouse. This time, they did not even bother knocking before opening the door and nearly storming in.
"Leave nothing. It must be clean with no ties. It..." Sister Petrice's voice carried from the back of the room, and she soon seemed to realize they were there. She plastered a false smile on her face and addressed them, approaching the group with her templar on her heel. "Well. My helpful associate from the streets. You... Took the Qunari from the city? Without incident?"
"You know that's not true." Ophelia snapped, glaring from her position behind her brother.
"Mind your tongue, Fereldan." The templar growled in retuned, and she began to finger her pommel, sending him a heated gaze, imagining slitting open his throat.
"Please. Do speak your mind." She drawled, as if trying to sound sympathetic.
"Don't string me along. You know that I know." Damian snapped as well. He did not like it either.
"Whether you believe me or not. I wished you no harm. That might have been useful for someone, but still regretful. A massacre of citizens defending a slave might have forced the Chantry to doubt appesement. To see the Qunari for the monsters they are." And so she explained the idea, without actually saying that it had been her plan. "Perhaps finding the mage was a rushed oppurtunity. If such a plot exsisted, I see how it might be... disagreeable to you."
"If? Perhaps? Why dance around this lie? I'm standing right here." He cut back in, his stance looking as if he were readying for battle himself. Ophelia kept her eye on the Templar. If her brother began the casting of a spell, he would undoubtedly be able to sense it. Before he had been far enough away that the staff could easily be blamed for the magic. Now they would not be so lucky.
"If a member of the chantry admitted instigation, I have no doubt it would result in more appeasement But an accusation from a low town thug. You are hardly that important." She explained it as if it were simple fact. That they were dirt beneath her boot. Expendable. "That's not an insult- it's why I chose you. Rest Assured, excuses, real or imagined, are not for your benefit."
"I won't forget this, Sister." Damian warned, crossing his arm over his chest. She sneered at him.
"Take your coin, Disappear back into Lowtown." She said, tossing a coinpurse at them. Ophelia caught the coins easily. Even after a year at Athenril's heel, neither of the Hawke siblings appreciated such treatment. "Rest assured, I will not make the mistake of looking outside of the faithful again. The stakes- Eternity- are just too high."
And with that, she turned and left, her templar guard on her heel. She didn't say anything else to them as she left. The feeling of being scraped off of her heel did not sit well with any of them, and the implications were not pleasant either.
"We'll be hearing from that one again." Varric muttered, and she had to agree.
A/N: Long chapter! Was longer, but I cut it into two chapters for this. This is the second half. Reviews are loved, even if it's just "like it!". :3
