Chapter 36 – A series of unfortunate events.
So, we're out of the Deep Roads and I literally have three chapters, where I will be hitting a few bombshells and we will be on Act 2 finally! Apologies for dragging this out, please forgive me?
Thankyou to my beta, LostSpace for her help as always! I value your help; writers would be nothing without their betas!
And a thanks to you guys! As always, your reviews are so great to hear, your follows and favourites mean a lot to me and I'm just thankful I've had such lovely readers!
The Wounded Coast was a welcome sight to Fenris after days of travelling without rest or proper nourishment. He threw a worried glance at Hawke, who marched forward with empty eyes, anguish painted on her weary face. When they had attempted to fill their stomachs with something on the way back Hawke had carried on walking without them. She did not attempt to wash herself, feed herself or even protect herself. She walked forward with the march of a soldier walking towards an untimely death, rather than a daughter returning home.
He had not said anything to her since she left her brother in the Deep Roads, nor had anyone else. What could he say? There were no words that could soothe her pain. They moved forward with her, never speaking and constantly watching Hawke as if she would burst into flames at any given moment.
Fenris found himself checking on her out of habit. Even though Hawke was a remarkable woman, he still feared she would cave to the calls of a demon. But deep down Fenris knew from the moment he saw her stand yards away from the demon in the Deep Roads with a wicked grin on her face that Hawke could resist any offer a demon made. But every now and then when he looked at her grief stricken face, he wondered if the demon involved Carver in their offer would she refuse so easily?
As the City of Chains came into sight, Hawke froze to the spot, staring at the city with scared eyes. The dwarf -who had not even bothered to say a single word the rest of the journey back- looked at Hawke with a guilty conscience. Fenris knew the dwarf blamed himself for the events that had transpired in the Deep Roads, but they were not his fault. The fault lied with his brother, and Fenris swore when Varric reunited with his brother he would personally help him kill him in as many ways possible.
A sudden shower -which was not rare on the Wounded Coast- started to bolt down, but Hawke still stood motionless despite the rain drenching her rapidly. She was paralysed to the spot. Fenris wished that he could make her feel better or offer some condolence. He prayed that Carver had survived his joining, that would be of some hope for Hawke at least.
"Hawke, I-shit I just wanna say I'm sorry kid, I really am. I didn't know I- " Varric started, but as soon as Hawke turned her hollow gaze on him he seemed to lose courage, his words lost.
"I'll come with you sweetheart, when you tell your mother and Merrill. You won't be alone," the abomination said in a gentle tone that made Fenris want to hit him repeatedly. Of course the abomination would be thinking of ways to get into Hawke's bed and use this situation to his advantage. The abomination moved out his hand slowly to touch hers, but before he could reach her hand Hawke's black gauntlet ensnared his wrist, and she turned to look at him with cold green eyes.
"No."
"Hawke, you're going to have to tell them. I know it hurts, I understand I-"the abomination blurted out. He scrambled for words as if he was scared Hawke would snap his wrist.
"You do not. You will never. I can't do this without him," she said, releasing his wrist and moving her soaked fringe from her eyes as the downpour continued on.
"Hawke, I know it's shit, but Blondie's right. We'll be there to tell them with you. We can do this together, Chuckles," Varric added, trying to smile at her as encouragement, but failing miserably.
The two men turned and looked at Fenris expectantly, waiting for his attempt to make Hawke move, to help her through this pain. He did not know what to say. How could he? Hawke was difficult on a good day; to persuade her now would be impossible.
"Hawke…" he started, trying to think of words to say to her that would make her move, anything for her to stay in Kirkwall, with him. He bowed his head, he truly was selfish.
She turned to him, and his stomach jolted at the sight of the feral expression on her face. She was wild and angry and it concerned him and thrilled him all at the same time.
"No."
The rain seemed to quicken at her tense refusal and all too suddenly a line of lightening pierced the sky. Hawke became enveloped in a shimmering white light that danced around her silhouette which began morphing and changing its shape. It began to shoot out and reflect in the droplets of rain that thundered down on them. The light became too unbearable for Fenris to look at and he closed his eyes for a moment to allow them to recuperate from its bold glow.
The light faded and where Hawke had stood was now a towering white wolf, snarling at him with bright green eyes. For a second, his hand moved towards his sword at the sight of the beast, but as he heard the abomination's exclamation and the dwarf's curses he realised what had occurred. Hawke's jade green eyes were the only familiar part of her left.
This woman will be the death of me!
And then the wolf darted, charging off into the coast and running for the sanctuary of the woods. The abomination chose to follow, chasing after her screaming that she must return, but after a hundred yards the wolf that was Hawke was nowhere to be seen.
He did not run after; he knew she did not want him to. He understood the need to escape better than many, and knew that hunting her would only make her run harder.
Varric looked up at the rain and glanced at Fenris, and was silent for what seemed like forever.
"I think this is going to be the first story where I don't have to make shit up."
…..
Sweat drenches him as he tries to keep conscious, the chemical warfare in his body mounting to the point of no return. Like most things all it needs is a decision. A choice needs to be made. He can't truly describe what is happening to him, but he would best compare it as being trapped in two different worlds. There is the physical world that was full of voices and panicked orders barked loudly and ringing in authority and then there is the other world.
The other world is a battlefield, a battlefield in his body. There is himself, his consciousness that writhes around in pain at whatever is happening to him and then there is the singing, the darkness in his blood that spreads like wildfire. It screeches in his muscle tissue and it tears each limb to pieces as it gains more territory in his body. He holds on, he doesn't remember why but he holds on.
He sees Merrill whilst he slips from the two worlds but she is not there. She isn't saying anything as she looks at him but he is happy to see her nonetheless. They were going to be together, he was going to marry her and look after her. Mother would have come around to the idea… she of all people knows what it is like to love someone forbidden.
A voice drags him back in to reality, away from Merrill.
"Get it now! Get the chalice! Hurry, please! No, I don't think this is going to be a proper Joining, apologies, but can you hurry up please!" a high voice buzzes into his brain, and he recognises it somehow. The darkness in his body starts to bubble and he wonders what Aria is doing. He thinks of what she isn't doing, he thinks of anything to keep him thinking of the pain.
She's probably done something stupid by now, he knows her well. Whatever happened that week she went missing has carved something in her soul. He worries for her, even now when he's close to death.
The people around him are panicking and he knows the time will come soon. He knows that there must be a choice. The darkness spreads further and it's getting closer to his heart, and he knows his time will come soon.
He misses Mother, he misses Sister and Merrill but he also misses Father and Bethany and wonders if he'll get to see them again.
"It's too late for him to drink it. We're going to have to inject it!" the panicked voice shouts, the voice holds its own darkness inside itself but it is steady and it does not fight. He wishes the darkness inside him would not fight so hard. He wishes it was over.
There are small pinpricks in his arm, but they are nothing compared to the pain he feels. A new darkness stains his body and it helps the darkness that was already there move on. It's faster now and the pain is so unbearable he can't even scream. He lies there, -wherever there is- frozen and unable to move.
It grips his heart and his pulse becomes erratic, the beating louder than the drums of war. Louder than Ostagar ever was, he was just a boy then. He wishes Aria was with him now. His sister followed him always and now she was nowhere to be seen.
The song begins to make sense, it begins to become understandable. The dialect is long gone, the words are untraceable and yet he understands. The song makes sense in a strange way, and the battle in his soul has been won. The darkness beckons him and he holds it tight. For a moment, his heart beat slows to the point where he thinks it might be the end for him.
The darkness sings him to sleep and he hears the voice one more time.
"Now it is in the hands of the Maker, may he watch down on you, Carver Hawke."
Sleep takes hold of him and he knows a new day will begin.
…..
The rain poured in Ostwick and there was talk amongst the people about how the storm had thrashed for a month. Eric did not usually care for idle gossip but he knew the storm was her. He sat in the tavern viewing the falling droplets that hit the window with satisfaction.
Eight years.
Eight long years of working and piecing everything together that his master had left behind, destroyed by the flames all those years ago. Oh he had worshipped Derek like he was the Maker himself, but Derek in all his brilliance had been a fool, and he, Eric, had fixed the flaws in Derek's ideas.
She wouldn't expect it, he knew that. His retreat all those years ago would have boosted her ego and she would not look for him any longer. He smiled into the cup as he took a sip of the water, remembering the weak young apostate he had seen all those years ago. But she had a fire in her soul that Derek could never have predicted. But he knew her now, knew what she was.
As he stroked the rim of the mug he remembered the girl's father, the same bright green eyes, all those decades ago speaking enthusiastically about his theories. How would Malcolm Hawke feel now, as he watched on from the Fade knowing that his daughter had suffered from his work?
But no, the original plan had been changed. Derek's plan did not work and it never would. Eric had revolutionised his master's ideas, evolved them to be better. He looked over at the door, wondering where Alrik was. Alrik did not share the same ideals. Where Eric saw the potential in Derek's legacy, Alrik had begun to shun it and in his wrath petitioned for the mages to all be made tranquil. Eric sighed, he feared he and Alrik would be departing ways soon enough, in a more permanent way than they ever had.
He thumbed the small glass vial in his pocket, the warm glow heating his fingertips. He took a quick glance around the deserted tavern to make sure no one could see him, and took it out of his pocket.
The phylactery shone a dull red, the most it had lit up in eight years.
Soon, the moment would be soon.