Our Ghosts Are The Same

Dragon Age 2

Chapter 20: Road Trip

A/N: I'm watching American Horror Story: Coven and I'm really in the mood write some dark magic. Also thanks for your continued support of this. We're getting closer to the finale...finally.

She wanted to tell Carver Mother was proud of him, that father would have been proud as well. But she knew where that would lead. Mentioning either parent would cause this conversation to spiral even further downward.

Hawke, instead, assured him that she'd be moving on soon. His visible relief struck her, though it was expected, when she announced that. He needed to hear it, though, and she knew that.

Carver called out her bullshit easily. He had years of practice. "You said that about Kirkwall as well and you've been there for years."

"I think you know that I say a lot of things that I don't follow through on."

"Like when you said you'd write," he pointed out glumly and looking away.

She was shocked. "I didn't think you wanted me to."

"I wrote to you and I got nothing back," he pointed out with his usual frown.

"I assumed Mother had guilted you into it." Shit, now she had done it. She had said the "m" word. Cringing, she waited to have her failure thrown back into her face.

"You could still have written back." Miraculously, Carver deigned to mention Leandra. Perhaps he had said all he had wanted to about the subject during the Qunari attack. Carver wasn't exactly a poet in any sense of the word.

Hawke shrugged in apology. "I could have done a lot of things." Carver snorted in contempt until his sister added, "You boss calls me the "little Hawke"."

It was the first time she got her brother to smile in a very long time.

Aedan had taken up his office again, trying to readjust everything back to the way it had been before he had left. But it didn't feel right. Trying to settle back into routine, at that moment, seemed counterproductive. And that put him in a foul mood.

He was interrupted; Hawke knocked on his door frame as she walked in without announcing herself. "Cousland, what now?"

"What do you mean?" She sat down on his desk and crossed her ankles. Aedan nudged her away. "Now you will report to Arl Eamon. Or to his equivalent in Denerim."

She wasn't pleased with that answer. "How do I get there?"

Aedan laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "Marian, when you asked to stow away on our ship for safe passage to Ferelden, I said yes."

"With some conditions."

"But I am not in charge of you nor am I your baby sitter. My business with you ended when you accepted the job. I will arrange transport for you to report to Eamon or whomever he's placed in charge of this spy network." He was... peeved. That was the word for it. And he normally wasn't one to take his problems out on another (unless they were darkspawn) but he could feel his bad mood slipping into this conversation. "You'll have to depart immediately. Whatever happens after that is entirely your call. I don't have the means to keep inoperative personnel-"

"Inoperative?" she echoed in disbelief. Hawke hopped off his desk quickly and turned around, angry. "I don't want to stay permanently, but Carver's finally willing to talk to me. Without blaming me for something every five minutes."

Aedan was not unsympathetic. "I gave you time with your brother for that very reason. But having you here is dangerous to my men and the Grey Warden's reputation. If Meredith decides to retaliate I don't want you anywhere near here. This will not concern us."

"You're worried about your reputation?" Her voice was too loud. While she had to admit Cousland's logic was sound, it always was, she could not understand why he was acting so callously. It occurred to her that he might be like most nobles, sweet when they needed something and... Snorting, Hawke laughed that thought away. Cousland could never be called "sweet". He was too honest, Ferelden, and stubborn to play those little games. "Were you worried about that when you had Anders here against templar orders? Or when you had a damn corpse walking around?"

"Those were different times, but my rules have not changed. Idle hands have no place here."

There was nothing, only Hawke staring him down in disbelief. She took a few steps towards the door, paused, glanced at one of his bookshelves before she cut it down with a swipe of her staff. Hawke turned back. "What are we?"

Cousland said nothing. She glanced at the fallen books and various other small items. "I don't disagree with what you are saying, more as how casually you can say it. I had thought we were friends, at the very least."

His head dipped and then fell onto his desk for a second. "I apologize. I don't take back the words I said-"

"You are shit at apologies."

He wasn't in the business of making apologies, she knew that. "-but I understand that how I said them upset you."

She wasn't buying it. "Stop that. I don't care that you're "sorry"; I want to know why you're being an arse. To me. It's funny when you're doing it to other people but not when you're doing it to me."

The confession came out in a monotone. "My brother is marrying a politician. Or I am. The wedding invitation was strangely unclear."

"Your family is weird."

"And this means I have to go home."

"I burned my family's home down when the darkspawn came through."

He tried to ignore that. Tried. "My issue with...actually, before that, I already hate asking this, but-"

"I burnt it down because I don't want some ugly darkspawn touching my stuff. Now keep talking."

Cousland looked very unsatisfied with her answer. "I can't go home. For reasons I don't care to discuss." He peaked a glance at Hawke's expression. "But it looks like I'm going to have to discuss it."

"You're damn right. You have other bookshelves I can destroy if you need a little motivation," she threatened.

"That's unnecessary." Hawke knew he was pausing to think very carefully about what he needed to say next. "I'm told you have experience with the fade."

"I'm a mage."

"I am aware." He exhaled deeply. "Your friend, the elf warrior, you had experience dealing with spirits infesting his home when you first met?"

"Varric really needs to find a new hobby besides telling my entire life story to everyone."

"And how did you handle that?"

Brutally honest, she replied, "I almost died, like, four times."

"So you agree when spirits cling onto a place it's not the ideal situation."

She caught on. "So your home-"

"Highever Castle."

Hawke could tell he hadn't meant to correct her. It irked her nonetheless. "You continue to make it very hard to like you," Hawke seethed and went on. "Your castle, you blue blooded prick, has been infested by spirits? Did I hear that right?"

Cousland's face looked strained. "There's a bit of a catch to it."

"Oh, I don't like to hear that."

Marian Hawke was the least 'mage-y' mage Aedan knew. She didn't use her magic unless her life or the lives of others were at stake, nor did she study the arcane arts nor did she have any real interest in it. Aedan almost believed if Hawke had a choice and she did not like being able to electrocute people at will so much, she'd give her powers up permanently.

So when he explained what he thought was going on at his former home, Hawke stared at him, eyes squinting and appearing to look like she understood what he was laying down.

"These manifestations only appear when you are present?"

Cousland nodded. "Either I trigger their appearance or they feed on whatever energy I'm giving off or-"

She stopped him there. "Look, if you're asking me what's going on in your haunted mansion-"

"Castle."

"-I cannot help you." She leaned back, shrugging. "I'm not someone who sits around making wild theories about magical situations I cannot see; I'm more of a reaction force, if you will."

"Are you saying you want to come with me and see for yourself-"

"Why do people," she huffed, pointing a finger at him comically, "always assume that when trouble arises that I want to rush over there and poke it with a stick?"

"Is that a 'no'?"

Sighing for a very long time, she shook her head slowly. "Get me a big enough stick and I'm yours."

Aedan and Hawke were saddling horses when the Champion's brother started getting his own horse ready. Aedan simply raised an eyebrow at her in question. She sniffed, looking away, "I don't want to go to this wedding without someone I know."

He felt a little ignored. "You know me."

"Someone I can easily trick into letting me hide wedding cake in his trouser pockets."

"I see your point."

While they were 'chatting' (Aedan hated chatting), Nathaniel entered the stables and froze, shocked by what he saw. "Why are you two packing? Are you personally taking the Champion to Denerim? "

"You read my wedding invitation, Nathaniel. You know I have to go home."

Now Nathaniel had even more questions. "I thought you couldn't do that."

Hawke strode up to him, smirking and oozing a mad sort of confidence. "That's why I'm tagging along. I'm sort of a fade expert," she bragged.

Nathaniel looked skeptically from the commander to the Champion. "Have you ever been trapped in the fade by a talking darkspawn and a dead baroness?"

"What? That's not real." She chuckled for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Something terrible is going to happen, isn't it?"

Varric looked at who had all assembled. And was slightly disappointed.

He understood why some of their ragtag company could not help in this little search and rescue mission. Aveline was Guard-Captain, she had duties she could not leave unattended. Anders had his clinic and Sebastian was afraid to leave the Grand Cleric alone for so long. That left Varric with Isabela, Fenris, and Merrill.

He had a team and he now, thanks to Hawke's letter, he knew where to look. She had mentioned the Warden which led him to conclude that Hawke had followed him back to Ferelden. He loved Hawke, she was his best friend (after Bianca) but the woman needed to learn to be a bit more subtle.

Varric knew if they could track down the Warden they would quickly find Hawke. Luckily for the rest of them neither the Warden nor the Champion were at all skilled at being incognito.

Fenris interrupted his thoughts and made Varric realize he had been staring silently at a map for a good half hour. "What do you need us to do?"

He was almost afraid to say. "I'm going to need Isabela to steal a ship."

The pirate's smile was truly terrifying.

They rode along to coast to Highever; Cousland in silence and Hawke stopped every few miles to bitch about the weather. And her outfit.

"I am not a Grey Warden so why am I dressed like one?"

"I do not have an abundance of women's weather gear at my disposal. It's this or freeze. And at any rate, you blend in this way." This was the third time she'd ask this and the first time he explained.

She was shivering, had been shivering for the past hour. "I'm starting to realize why I stayed so long in Kirkwall." Hawke fidgeted, turning around in her saddle to glance at their escort.

They had left Cartier behind with a promotion as the Grey Warden's head horse handler. Sienna was placed in charge of nothing, but she was given a new set of robes as reward for her service. And also as a sort of bribe to persuade her to accompany them to this wedding to help Hawke in any fade related matters they would indubitably encounter.

The elven babe, whatever it's name, was also left at Vigil's Keep. It was too cold for a baby to travel safely but she knew while Cousland said he planned to take it to the Denerim orphanage he always made this face as if he really wasn't completely taken with that idea.

Their escort this trip was made up of Ohgren (why was Cousland taking him to a wedding?), her brother, Carver, and some other wardens she did not know. There was also a sullen looking person wrapped in so many cloaks and scarves that Hawke could not determine it's gender.

She pointed. "Cousland, who is that?"

There was a very long pause which Hawke took to mean that he didn't even know. "That's...my squire?" He said it as a question, not something he did often or ever.

"I didn't know you had a squire."

"It's fine. She's so quiet I forget she's there at all."

Hawke was, however, not quiet.

"Is Nathaniel your best friend?"

He looked taken aback. "I don't think you know how juvenile that sounds."

"You two wear matching outfits."

"You know what Nathaniel does on long rides? He carries on in grim, brooding silence. It's his best trait."

"I know you said purple was your favorite color, but if you had to pick a second-"

"Grim. Brooding. Silence."

"Why are we stealing a ship?" Merrill asked entirely too loudly. Varric shushed her while rubbing his temples to help combat the migraine that had been forming for awhile now.

He had no idea how Hawke did it, babysat them all. He was used to sitting back and watching the show, not being the one in charge, the one having to answer every mundane questions asked. It was honestly killing him. Well, maybe not honestly.

Merrill continued, "Why don't we pay for passage?"

"Because," Fenris answered for Varric, giving him a much deserved break, "Meredith is still looking for Hawke and we don't want it openly known that we are going to Ferelden."

"And, besides, isn't this so much more fun?" Isabela asked, her eyes scanning the docks and searching for her perfect target.

The question was directed to Varric. "Do I look like the leader of this merry band of misfits—oh, Maker's breath, I'm starting to sound like Hawke. I've gone too deep."

Merrill interrupted his midlife crisis. "Yes, but are we giving the ship back?"

Cousland forced them to stop at an abandoned homestead still a few miles from Highever. When Hawke demanded they continue on if only to end her boredom, Cousland didn't argue with her which was very odd. Arguing was the basis of their relationship.

Instead Cousland sat down hard on a makeshift bed and ordered their horses be tied up outside. He ripped off his scarf and Hawke was surprised to see how much their trip had taken a toll on him. "Cousland, I know you're getting old, but you shouldn't look this poorly." She only received a half-assed glare. Maker, he really was sick.

Hawke knelt next to him. "You are sweating," she observed, frowning. He shouldn't be sweating in such frigid weather, they both knew that. Hawke's brow furrowed, but her hand was steady and calm when she felt his forehead and then quickly drew back. "You're burning up, Cousland. We need to get you to a healer right away."

He disagreed. "No, this happened last time. Whenever I get close to Highever I can feel something draining me, trying to get at-"

"Then you shouldn't go any further." Trying to figure out their next move, Hawke couldn't help but think that if Anders were here she'd feel so much better, so much braver. Damn, she had only been gone a short while but she missed them all like crazy.

"I can't stay here," he protested lamely.

"Then stay somewhere better, safer, yet still nearby." Hawke stood up, dusting her knees off. "But this will only get worse if you continue on to Highever."

"What are you suggesting?" He was too ill to guess whatever she was trying to get at.

"I scout ahead. See what we're up against; I'll take your mage with me." She shrugged. "It's only after you, you said so yourself. So I'll either take care of it myself or I'll figure out who can."

"You make it sound so simple," he coughed, paling even further. "You get three days before I move on regardless of the conditions."

"Fair enough." It really wasn't. He was just irked at being left behind. "I want Carver, too."

"Done." He would have agreed to anything at that point. He was falling asleep on the spot.

Hawke called Ohgren inside and relayed the plan. The party would split up, leaving Ohgren and the squire in charge of getting Cousland somewhere warm and far enough away from Highever Castle that he wasn't being fed on by whatever was in there.

They parted ways, unhappily. Hawke was no longer dripping with overconfidence. She hadn't expected this spirit or demon or whatever to be able to affect them at such great distances. And she wasn't too thrilled at having to announce herself at this wedding seeing as she wasn't technically invited.

"You get yourself into such nasty messes, Sister."

"Carver, why do you think I brought you along for?" she huffed, struggling to get her horse to move the way she needed it to. "You hold the dustpan and I'll take care of the broom. Like always."