Chapter 14

There were more children around the Keep these days, and children always seemed to need healing. Whenever Nathaniel couldn't find Bethany, all he had to do was follow the sounds of Hero of Ferelden being played in the courtyard. Someone always had to be the archdemon, and the children looked suitably upset, because the archdemon wasn't supposed to cry after it was slain.

He watched Bethany shush the girl, a smile on her face. "It's all healed up, see?" The girl sniffled and the other children shoved another girl forward, clutching a wooden play sword.

"Sorry," the 'hero' said, kicking the dirt.

The 'archdemon' crawled out of Bethany's arms, nodding her acceptance, and then the lot of them ran off. He stepped out of the shadows to help her to her feet.

"Me, they're scared to death of. You, they run to with every cut and scrape."

"That's because you make that face," she replied with a grin.

"What face?"

She chuckled. "That face. Your serious face." She furrowed her brows, pressed her lips together in disapproval and folded her arms over her chest. "I am Nathaniel Howe, and you are up to something you shouldn't be," she mimicked, trying to duplicate his gravelly tone and utterly failing.

"I don't... always look like that, do I?"

She reached up to lay her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing over his lips and the little bit of hair under his bottom lip. "Most of the time, yes. But that's alright, I still love you." She leaned up to kiss him. "Now, I have plenty of things to do. See you at supper." She turned to leave and he grabbed her hand, making her stop and turn back, waiting.

"Are we... not going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"About... this morning."

"Did you want to?"

"Well..."

She gave him an indulgent smile. "I would never ask more of you than you're willing to give, Nathaniel. And you didn't have to offer—I can take care of myself."

"I know. But... would you want it?"

"Would I want to... what?"

He frowned. "You're being deliberately obtuse."

"I am. If you're going to ask, I'm going to make you say it. But I promise you that if you don't ask, that's not the end of us. I don't need it."

He studied her, his grey eyes scanning her face. Then he sighed and, still clasping her hand, fell to one knee right in the middle of the courtyard, in front of the Maker, some guards, a few Wardens, a handful of children, and a few of the farmers. And Herren and Wade. She bit the inside of her cheek when she heard Wade cry out only to be silenced by his partner.

"Bethany Hawke."

"Yes, Nathaniel Howe?" She couldn't keep the stupid smile off her face.

"Stop that. I'm trying to do this right," he instructed and she buttoned her lips shut and let him speak. He had to take another deep breath. "We've not known each other for many years, but I have discovered that you are a capable and honorable woman; you are honest, and kind, and... Bethany Hawke, would you do me the great honor of..." he sighed and squeezed her hand, "of becoming my wife?"

"Nathaniel Howe, I would be overjoyed to do you such an honor," she replied quietly, and he stood, taking her in his arms, embracing her amidst wolf whistles and Wade's cries of joy. She never expected he'd be so... public about it; he was such a private man. But for all his careful strategy, he did have a streak of the impulsive in him, and rare though it was, it had come out in full glory this afternoon. He pulled away a little and kissed her gently on the lips.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"What, you thought I'd say 'no'?"

"It was definitely a possibility. And I did make a rather public spectacle of it," he said, frowning at his own spontaneity.

"Shows how much you pay attention," she chided. "I've been waiting for you to make an honest woman of me for about five years now."

"Five years, but we barely knew each other!"

She grinned. "I fell hard, what can I say?"

He chuckled and touched his nose to hers, nuzzling her gently.

"Oh this will be a delight!" Their moment was interrupted by the armorer. "Surely you'll let me do your dress, my darling?"

She laughed and leaned into Nathaniel's chest while he took up his trademark scowl.

#

"'Gray Wardeny' things, right," Marian sighed. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"It will be boring anyway, probably. Avernus is this creepy mage," Sigrun said, wrinkling her nose. "He smells like old people."

"Well he is over two-hundred years old," Alistair smirked.

Anders frowned. "Two-hundred years? You're joking right?"

Alistair shifted. "Er, no…" He glanced again at Marian, and pulled Anders a little further away. Marian caught Sigrun's eye and shrugged.

"I could sneak up on them and listen in if you want," Sigrun offered.

Marian grinned. "Thanks but no. I think there are some Grey Warden secrets I'm better off not knowing. Besides," she added with a wry twist to her mouth, "I need to stay on Alistair's good side."

She watched them talking, not trying to overhear, but it wasn't hard to catch a word or two.

"…blood magic!" Anders waved his arms in an angry fashion.

Alistair sighed, said something in a low voice that Marian couldn't catch, though she was pretty sure she heard the words "Elissa" and "Blight" and "all the help we could get."

A moment later the two men returned to where Sigrun and Marian were still standing. Anders was still frowning, but he didn't seem to be protesting any longer.

"We're going to go talk to Avernus," Alistair said, jerking his thumb back at the tower. "We won't be long."

"I'll have the Dryden boys put the supplies in the wagon, Commander," Sigrun offered. Alistair nodded and the two men headed into the fortress.

#

"I still can't believe you let him live all this time…" Anders muttered as they walked through the halls of Soldier's Peak.

Alistair sighed. "It wasn't up to me. Besides, he promised Elissa that he'd only research ethically now. He seemed honest enough—didn't try to hide what he'd done." Alistair pushed through a door, exiting onto the bridge that led to the watchtower. Anders shivered as icy mountain winds blew across the bridge.

"His last note indicated that he's had some kind of success and wanted me to see it," Alistair continued as they walked. "Or something like that. I think he gets so absorbed in his work that he forgets to explain properly to us poor, dumb plebeians. And his handwriting is atrocious. He could have been asking me to see the queen of Antiva for all I know."

"Have I met him before?"

"No, but when I first arrived from the Anderfels, I did explain his existence to you, Nathaniel, and Sigrun because I wanted a Warden stationed here to keep an eye on him. We had nearly the same quarrel then as we did down there," Alistair smirked.

"Oh. Well, you could have stopped me before I went off full steam, you know."

Alistair shrugged. "The same argument I used last time worked this time around too. I figured it was worth a shot."

"Good to know I'm predictable at least." Anders paused. "I must have left soon after?"

Alistair nodded. "That afternoon, in fact."

Alistair pushed open the door on the opposite side of the bridge. Anders hurried through, relieved to no longer feel the cold wind blowing up his robes.

"Ah, Alistair," wheezed a decrepit-looking mage from across the room. "You got my note, I see?"

"Yes, Avernus. We decided to stop by on our way to Denerim. What—"

The door they had just shut behind them opened again, and Sigrun stepped through.

"Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but I have a quick question."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "This couldn't wait—no, never mind. You wouldn't have followed me up here otherwise. " He sighed. "Just a moment, ser mage." He stepped outside into the anteroom, and Anders was left alone with Avernus.

The old mage tottered over to him, rheumy blue eyes looking him up and down. "Well I did want a young, male Warden, but another mage? Oh well." He turned back to his table and picked up a tumbler. "Here, boy, drink this."

"Riiight. As if I'd drink anything you gave me," Anders said, folding his arms across his chest.

Avernus frowned. "Stubborn youths. I spend the last of my years trying to help Grey Wardens achieve their full potential and what do I get? Back talk and suspicion."

"You summoned a horde of demons! And experimented on your brother Wardens! Not to mention whatever foul blood magic keeps you alive far past your time. If that isn't grounds for suspicion, I don't know what is."

Avernus didn't reply, swirling the contents of the tumbler in oddly smooth motions considering how unsteady his legs seemed to be. "Did you know that I wasn't even looking for a cure for Grey Warden sterility? It just happened to be a side effect of my latest research."

Anders raised a brow, determined to keep the higher ground, but the old coot certainly had a way with tempting words. He briefly considered the man could be possessed by a desire demon and curled his fingers into his palms under his arms to keep from using Bethany's trick. He was old, it might kill him, and then at least Alistair would be probably a BIT upset with him.

"What, exactly, were you researching?"

"What is the taint?"

"Wait, I asked you first."

"Answer me, boy, what is the taint?"

He frowned. "Um, it makes Grey Wardens what they are—gives them the ability to fight the darkspawn. And... kills them for it... in the end."

"And if they're to be super-soldiers defending against the Blight, shouldn't they be more powerful?"

"We are more powerful! My mana replenishes faster, I have more stamina..."

"And you consume more calories to make up for it, not exactly a true advantage."

"Well the darkspawn and the Blights really aren't some fabricated evil that we're meant to just logic out and be done with. If it wasn't difficult to defeat them, we'd've wiped them out ages ago. They're evil."

"Thus implying their blood is evil, yes?"

"Of course! It kills us in the end! Makes us like them! It's a demon's gift - we gain the ability to fight our enemies only to become them. That's why there's not a rush on the Joining - who would do it if they knew the stakes?"

"But the darkspawn still have an advantage over us—so many Wardens die in the Joining, and the darkspawn breed greater numbers. We're constantly outnumbered."

"So, what, you're trying to figure out a way that less Wardens will die by killing other Wardens? Genius plan."

"Thank you. Like knows like," Avernus gave him a look that made his skin crawl. Dodgy old coot.

"No. I'm nothing like you."

"Think what you wish. But while the deaths at your hands seems to've only caused more trouble, I've been working on a solution to end the Blights!"

Anders scoffed. "That Architect offered the same solution and what good has it done? Talking darkspawn! I wasn't fond of it then and I'm certainly not fond of it now!"

"But what if we could discover the true power of the blood? Archdemons are Old Gods that have been corrupted—who's to say the Old Gods aren't at the mercy of the corruption themselves! If we could harness the power of the Old Gods, we could help them defeat the darkspawn and free them!"

"I'm sure the Chantry would be thrilled," Anders quipped dryly.

"The Hero of Ferelden was willing to take the chance. She suffered no ill-effects and that was before I perfected the solution to this degree."

"She died. Not exactly the poster-child for long-term effects."

"And what about myself?"

"What about you?"

"I've been alive for centuries. I have proven that the power of the blood Wardens ingest during the Joining has so much more potential!"

"You've proven that blood magic gives a person more power—that's not new information."

"Don't be a fool. The Joining is blood magic, you cannot pretend to be above such things when you took the Joining to save your own life." The old man started to get exasperated with him, and Anders took the hit to heart—it was true, he had used blood magic to save his own life. How did that make him better than anyone else?

"What do you want from me?" he asked, sullen.

"Prove me right."

"How?"

"You've seen how many Wardens there are at the Keep? And you're on the way to Denerim, you'll see even more. My experiments, the ones I've been doing since the Blight, have not involved the death of any Wardens. In fact, more have survived the Joining. And, excuse my crudeness, but why does it improve sexual stamina if not to produce children with the taint who are also immune to darkspawn corruption?"

"What, and have children who live thirty years and that's it? No. I won't help you do that."

"Listen to me. I've lived more than the arbitrary thirty years," he waved his hand like it was of no consequence. "I will wager that the Warden-Commander and all the recruits since the new Joinings will outlive it too. We must change; become stronger than our enemies. Alistair has told me about this Architect, and for all that I am intrigued by his research, I am not sure that the Wardens haven't just signed a treaty to give ourselves a new enemy when the Blights are over."

"On that, we agree."

"So we need to become stronger. We need to be immune to the touch of these creatures so that we can defeat them. Surely you cannot deny that?"

Anders sighed. "No. No, I cannot."

"Drink this."

He frowned, looking at the vial, and was still making faces as Avernus shook it in his face when Alistair returned.

"I'd never make you do it," Alistair said. "But I've been here, I've read about this Architect, and it makes me damned uncomfortable. And... Elissa suffered no ill effects that I saw. Besides," he chuckled uneasily, "it's not as though it's going to shorten your life any more than the last time."

"True. But what about... I mean, I'm not... jumping to conclusions but... if Marian..."

"I'd really rather you not tell Marian about all the fun parts of being a Warden."

"No, but... children with the taint..."

Alistair turned on Avernus. "What? No!" He waved his hand through the air angrily. "Absolutely not. Elissa gave her life so that no child would be born with the taint, I will not let you do this!" He reached for the vial, but Avernus pulled it back, cradling it into his body, and Alistair stopped short of trying to knock it out of his hands.

"This is not the witch's ritual, Alistair. No children produced—if children are indeed possible, which is why I wanted this young man here to drink it in the first place, to see if I'm right—could be vessels for possession in that manner. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but this is not the answer. This is not her magic," the old man said carefully, and Anders kept looking between them. Alistair still had fire in his eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"On that, at least, yes."

"And can I trust you, old man? Sometimes your motives aren't exactly clear. You seem to be in favor of "saving" the Old Gods."

He scoffed. "And how, exactly, would we be doing them any favors by trapping them in human bodies instead of letting them take their true forms?"

Alistair's eyebrows rose. "I... that actually makes sense. Even for you." He turned to Anders. "If I were you, I'd do it, but... if Elissa were here," he got a fond, yet sad look on his face and rubbed the back of his neck, "she'd kill me if I did something like that without discussing it with her first. You think you can discuss it with Marian without giving away all our secrets?"

"Maybe?"

"Well, we aren't going anywhere for a little while. Have... a talk with her."

"Right, so how do I start that conversation?" Anders muttered to himself as he exited Avernus's tower and scurried across the windswept bridge. "'Gee, Marian, do you want to have kids? Never mind that we haven't had sex in two years, but the minute we do, we could have our very own miniature Grey Warden!' Anders, you've really outdone yourself this time…"

He heard her laughter as he entered the lower level of the fortress and peeked through the door of the kitchens to see her and Sigrun sharing a hot mug of something in front of a roaring fire. His lips twitched up in a fond smile as he watched her make a grand gesture with her hands and get up from the table, making a running motion with her hands held high as if she was fleeing for her life.

"And this spider—I'm not joking it was at least the size of an wagon—comes crawling toward me—me! You'd think it would have gone for the short, plumpy one—Varric—but noooo, it comes after me." She rubbed her stomach with a rueful grin. "I still have the scar to prove it."

"I've seen that one," Anders quipped, leaning against the doorjamb. "The puckered and knobbly one next to your belly button, yes?"

Marian raised an eyebrow. "You do know how to make a girl feel special," she said, but she was smiling. Anders swallowed.

"Um, Marian, might I have a word…" He glanced at Sigrun who sighed.

"Right, right. I can hear a 'get lost, duster' from two leagues away. Don't worry, I have recruit heads to bang together." She jabbed a finger in Anders's face. "You owe me a game of diamondback, Shimmy."

"I don't think I'm very good at it…"

Sigrun grinned. "Why do you think I want to play it with you?" She exited the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"What's up?" Marian asked, propping her chin up on her hands, her eyes still sparkling with good humor. Anders sat down on the bench beside her, taking her hands in his. He liked her hands: they were calloused and strong; no idle noblewoman's fingers were these.

"I… I know our relationship wasn't 'normal' by any means," he started, "but did we ever… discuss the future? I mean, things like… children?"

The humor faded from her eyes and she seemed to consider his words carefully. "We… did discuss it, once or twice. You seemed in favor of it, though always in a distant, 'it might happen in the future' kind of way. I got the feeling that Justice wasn't too keen on the idea—it was something that took your focus away from the plight of mages. I didn't press the issue, but there was also the Warden thing." She looked down at their entwined fingers. "You told me that Grey Wardens have a hard time having children."

"What if…" Anders's mouth was dry. "What if I told you that would no longer be an obstacle?"