Chapter 10

"So how do you know Isabela anyway? Were you just another one of her conquests? Another one of her little romps below decks?" Hawke asked Ronan as she led him through the Undercity, more specifically the slum called Darktown. The old mining tunnels were musty, bleak, and the air was stale. Ronan caught a glimpse of a rat or two tottering in the shadows. He wondered why anyone would even live down there.

Ronan looked at Hawke askance. "Gods, no."

"Then how?"

"Friend of a friend." Or something like that. Melisende had not really treated Isabela like a friend, but a little embellishment never hurt anyone.

An elf merchant nodded to Hawke as they passed his stall. Hawke returned the gesture and carried on. She walked confidently, unafraid of the dangers that lurked in the corners. A few other people nodded to Hawke or greeted her in passing. Ronan found himself wondering about Hawke. She must be some kind of big shot, at least in the Undercity, for so many people to know her by name. Perhaps it was good that he found her at the Hanged Man.

"Why does Anders hide out in Darktown?" Ronan asked as he took in his surroundings. Pieces of ripped and torn fabric hung from the walls, held up by sticks to create makeshift roofs. A roof? Ronan thought, why would anyone need a roof down here? He held back a shudder. The underground was not his favorite place to be.

"You don't know?" Hawke asked suspiciously. "You met him before, yet you don't know?"

"It was a brief meeting. I had other concerns on my mind than who I was talking to."

Hawke sighed. "Anders is an apostate and a rebel Warden."

"Oh, well, he wasn't exactly shooting lightning bolts in the sky when I met him. And he wasn't a rebel Warden."

"What was he doing?"

Ronan looked at Hawke curiously. "He had just bowed out of a drinking contest with the other Wardens. I was unimpressed by that sorry lot."

Hawke turned a corner, looking thoughtful. She had a mischievous grin on her face, like she was up to something. Ronan followed closely, noticing the walls of the tunnels were painted with the same tortured looking humans as in the Hanged Man. Slaves? He'd learnt a little more about Kirkwall since he first came there; it had been a centre of the slave trade, or so Ty had told him something like that.

They passed raggedly dressed, haggard looking shems and flat ears. They guarded their corners of space with weary eyes. A few children lingered around, playing in the dirt. Other shems warmed their hands by fires. It was a little cool down there, Ronan had to admit, at least compared to the above.

So, this is where Vance and Ty grew up? No wonder they left.

Hawke led him down a set of creaky stairs. The wooden planks wobbled a little as Ronan made his way down them. There was a large opening to the outside world to their right. Ronan could see nothing but cliffs, but if he looked high enough, he could see the sky. The wind howled loudly in this spot, clearing the air of the smoke from the fires.

"Tell me more about this friend of yours, stuck in the Gallows." Hawke said, pausing before another set of steps, steps that went up. "Anwen was her name?"

"Why do you care?"

Hawke looked affronted. "I have a lot more experience with magic than you think. Don't think I don't care about what happens to mages."

"Fine." Ronan shrugged. "Anwen is… quiet. I honestly don't know that much about her, really. I only know what little she told me, that she was in the Starkhaven Circle, that she broke free during the fire, and that she has been an apostate until not long ago."

"And you want to help her?" Hawke looked doubtfully at Ronan.

"I want my blade back, mostly." Ronan answered.

"How sweet of you." Hawke rolled her eyes.

"At first, I only wanted my blade back." Ronan said thoughtfully. "Then Ty went all preachy on every one of us. If she doesn't want to be there, then she shouldn't be there. I have to help her."

"Ty?"

He cursed himself inwardly. He shouldn't have mentioned Ty. Could he really trust Hawke? "Bah, I've said too much. Why should I trust you anyway? For all I know you could be leading me into a trap."

Hawke stared at him for a moment. Ronan grew uncomfortable under her gaze. And then she held up her hand. Ronan instinctively backed away as a glowing blue energy emerged from her palm. He tilted his head toward her questioningly.

"I told you I have experience with magic." Hawke said with a self satisfied grin.

"How is it that you are free?" Ronan asked curiously.

"My whole life has been one long escape story." Hawke's grin washed away as quickly as it had come. She turned her gaze to the ground. "My father was a mage and so was my little sister. He taught us how to use our magic, told us it was a gift. I never could understand though, why we had to hide it, why we had to run away from the Templars all the time if it was such a gift. And then he died and then the Blight came. We ran away from that and my sister died. Now, here in Kirkwall, I've been lucky."

"You've never been a part of the Circle?"

Hawke shook her head. "No. Anders's constant whining tells me that it is a good thing."

"You don't believe him?"

Hawke shrugged. "Now I have said too much. Before I take you further, why should I trust you? Because you are a friend of a friend of a friend?"

"Is that not enough?"

"Considering that friend, Isabela, is not available to confirm what you say, for the moment at least, no, it is not enough."

Ronan considered. He was so close to Anders. He didn't need Hawke. He could find Anders on his own. But if Hawke was friends with Anders, it might be useful to have her around. What could he say, though, to convince her that his intentions were good? Then he remembered what she had said about her brother.

"We have something in common, you and I." he said.

Hawke arched her brow in surprise. "Do we now? Please, do tell."

"You said your brother is a Grey Warden. My brother is, uh, was a Grey Warden too."

"And that should make me trust you, because?"

"My brother was a mage too."

"By the Maker! I can't believe it!" Hawke raised up her hands in mockery. "Then we should surely be the best of friends now!"

Ronan shook his head in irritation. "I don't know what else to say to convince you I am not a threat to your precious Anders."

Hawke bit her lower lip and bunched her brows in anger. "I am just going to ignore that precious Anders comment."

"Then let's go."

Ronan made to move ahead, but Hawke held out an arm to block him from going any further.

"Wait. You said your brother was a mage, and was a Grey Warden."

Ronan nodded. "Was."

"He passed away?"

"Maybe." Ronan shrugged.

"Are you being evasive or are you telling the truth?"

"The truth is I don't know what happened to him. He may be dead."

"Then we have more in common. You lost a brother, I lost a sister."

"Great, now that we have that out of the way, let's go see Anders." Ronan said impatiently.

Hawke turned around, took a few steps up the stairs, and then paused again. Ronan sighed. He was getting terribly impatient now.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"You are from Ferelden. You met Anders at Vigil's Keep. Did your brother know the Hero of Ferelden? Anders served under the man for a while."Hawke asked, watching him closely. "Did you meet the Hero of Ferelden?"

Ronan closed his eyes and cursed in his head. Why was everyone so obsessed with the Hero of Ferelden? So what if he killed an archdemon? Ronan didn't usually admit this to anyone unless they directly asked, but nobody ever did, because he was an elf and the Hero of Ferelden wasn't, so nobody ever suspected, but he did so now. "The Hero of Ferelden is my brother."

Hawke looked at him in disbelief and even let out a little chuckle.

"I don't care if you don't believe me." Ronan bunched up his fist. Why wouldn't Hawke just shut up? He was getting rather irritated by her interrogation. "Just take me to Anders already."

"The Hero is human. You, my pointy eared friend, are an elf."

"Oh, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"Well, now I can't trust you at all. You just lied to my face. And what a ridiculous lie." Hawke continued to laugh. "If anyone is related to the Hero, it would be me. My mother is an Amell."

"The Hero and I share a mother."

Hawke grasped onto the wall, and made an effort to stop laughing. "I suppose that is possible."

"I don't care what you think. I never even liked the big oaf. Just take me to Anders already."

Hawke looked at him with barely suppressed mirth. "Fine, fine. I guess you're harmless enough. And you know what? I like you after all. You remind me of Carver."

Ronan shook his head. Harmless? He'd show her what harmless could do if it weren't for Anwen and his lost blade. "Well I don't like you."

Hawke laughed again and then finally marched up the steps, stopping before two wooden doors. "Anders is in there, in his clinic."