Hawkquisition Part 3: Patchwork Families
Chapter 3

Wherein Varric acquires a new title

"I think he's getting better, Carver. Do you think he's getting better?" Merrill stood wringing her hands.

"I don't know, Merrill," Carver frowned, regarding the elven boy motionless on the infirmary cot. "Still a lot of red." Emmen was lucky to still be alive, he supposed, with the amount of red lyrium that had been growing on and in him when the Inquisitor found him.

"But he's not so squirmy today. Last time we checked on him, he was flinching at every sound, every bit of a breeze. Maybe it doesn't hurt so much today."

Or maybe he's beyond feeling pain already, Carver thought but did not wish to worry Merrill. "Maybe. I'm sure he'll be all right."

"Oh, he has to! He's one of the people, Carver," she reminded him, darting a glance up at him with all the intensity that had so often made him lose his way with her, stammering and helpless. "He's our responsibility, as sure as if he were our own son. We couldn't just leave him to die, if he were our son, could we?"

Our son? Carver nearly choked, cleared his throat and looked at Merrill oddly. "Er - sweetheart - if there's something you're wanting to tell me..." he mumbled.

"And Linian's still so sad," Merrill went on, oblivious to the leap Carver's thoughts had made. "And now the mages are leaving the Inquisition to form their own group. Creators, I hope they find a cure before they go!"

"Sure they will," Carver said, silencing his own doubts and wrapping his arm around Merrill's shoulder.

With a deep sigh of frustration, Hawke flung the book aside - towards the door, where it barely missed Fenris as he entered with the cheese she had sent him for. Fenris arched an eyebrow, looking slowly from the book back to Hawke. "One of Varric's, I presume?"

"No," she frowned. "It's...just a book about parenting."

His eyes widened as he sat in the visitor's chair beside her, handing her the snack. "I do not expect raising this child to be easy, Hawke, but surely it cannot be as bad as this book says. On the assumption, that is, that you were throwing the book at me because I got you into this mess and the book has convinced you it will be a disaster."

She blinked, then looked over to see the corners of his mouth turned up. Just the hint of mirth in him had its usual effect on her: Hawke burst out laughing in delight and couldn't stop until at last her breath was spent and it nearly hurt to laugh anymore. Then she subsided with a sigh and answered, "Nothing like that, though if it does turn out to be a disaster, I'm going to remember that you just claimed responsibility for it." She balanced the cheese tray on her belly and reached up to touch his cheek. "Actually, I'll just remember it anyway, even if it turns out to be as much of a delight as I know it will."

He pinched a slice of cheese from her tray. "What was so terrible about your book, then?"

"Nothing inside of it. It's just frustrating, trying to hold a book that big comfortably while I'm stuck in bed. All right for a while, but I can only read so long before…" She looked up at him with eyes alight. "Better idea. Read to me, Fenris."

He looked dubious. "The...parenting book?"

"Hm. Preferably not. I've had enough of weighty advice for today," she grinned. He rolled his eyes obligingly. "I know what. On the table, there - Josephine brought a book of children's tales for the baby. Read that to us."

"To you both?" His smile returned, slow and thoughtful now.

"I think he can hear us. He should get used to hearing his father reading to him. Why not start now?"

So Fenris picked up the book of tales, settled into the chair with his legs propped up on the side of the bed (subject to occasional tickling at Hawke's whim, from which not even his reflexive kicks could deter her), and read to his family the tale of The Big Blue Mabari, and the tale of The Nug Who Came for Dinner, and the tale of The Ugly Deepstalker, and the tale of Andraste's Gift to the Dragon, until Hawke drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips and scattered bits of cheese tumbling off her belly. Then Fenris leaned in to gather the cheese, and said: "I suppose you've gone to sleep too, littlest Hawke?" But as he set the cheese tray aside and rested a hand on Hawke's belly, he felt the child within stir and kick (taking after his father, obviously) and said: "Well, then. I'll read on."

The nightingale belongs with the ravens, not upon the sun.

Those who supported her will share in her fall.

Thayer Trevelyan waited, perched on Josephine's desk with his arms crossed over his chest, as Varric read the crumpled note. And read it again, frowning.

"Well," the dwarf said finally. "Whoever sent this has an even worse sense of melodrama than I do, but I agree, it's something to do with our ex-spymaster."

"Someone clearly opposes Leliana's appointment as Divine," Josephine said briskly.

"Not surprising," said Thayer. "There's always some opposition to appointments of that magnitude, and between Leliana's lay origins and her planned reforms, she's making plenty of enemies."

"And probably made many during her time with the Inquisition, as well," Josephine added.

Varric squinted an eye at the note. "I thought it took a unanimous vote to get a Divine elected."

"True," said Josephine. "But clerics who conceded to their colleagues' opinions on the matter may have had second thoughts afterwards. Or the threat may come from parties outside the College of Clerics. Or outside the Chantry entirely. Sadly, we have little to go on."

"And you called me here because…"

Thayer grinned, bounding up from the desk, and put an arm around the dwarf's shoulders. "My friend, do you recall one of our early conversations at Haven? I asked you once why Leliana, and not you, was our spymaster."

"Oh no you don't, Shiny." Varric spread his arms wide, palms out as if to fend off what he saw coming. "My answer then still applies. I don't have the ruthlessness for the job."

"But you do have your own network of contacts," Thayer pressed, "and knowledge of how to use them. Whereas the Inquisition, since our Nightingale's departure, is left with an excellent spy network who have no one, really, to answer to."

"Technically, they answer to you, Your Heraldiness…"

"Thayer has so many responsibilities as it is," Josephine reminded them. "Also, a tendency to engage anyone he's ever met, however briefly, in conversation, which may be hazardous to our agents' cover at times."

"It's all you, my dwarven friend," Thayer concluded. "Mind you, I'm not asking you to take this on as a permanent position. Josephine and Cullen have some ideas about a full time replacement for Leliana. But until such a person is in place, we badly need someone to help us get to the bottom of this business about these threats to the Divine."

"And, clearly, to the Inquisition for supporting her," said Josie.

"Hm. Fine, then. I'll see what I can do about the threats, at least. Just don't take your time with the recruiting-a-real-spymaster thing, okay? And I refuse to hang out in the tower with those birds."