August 9:35

Zevran had stayed in Ansburg just long enough for Solona to arrive for her yearly visit and then waited with her for Carver to return from his trip. It was long enough for Zevran to teach Meghan a few new tricks with her knife and to convince Alistair to explain just how complicated and how serious these assassination rumors were. And so when Carver returned from the Vimmark Mountains, he found himself huddled around the small table in the house with Meghan, Alistair, Solona, Zevran, and Nathaniel.

And the stories were told. Carver knew some of them—or at least enough of Warden history and lore to not be too surprised as Alistair, Solona, and Zevran recounted their time fighting the Blight. Until they reached the part where they explained how they both survived fighting the Archdemon. Carver had wondered about this for years, having heard that the Warden who delivers the final blow is supposed to die, but he'd never bothered to ask Alistair about it. Now, he was too shocked to respond. Meghan, on the other hand, was piecing together the stories.

"That woman I met outside Ostwick. That was her? Morrigan?" She turned to Alistair. "That was your son?" Then to Nathaniel. "And that message she gave me was about herself? 'What you seek is no longer where you are seeking'…because she was leaving Ostwick?" Then to Solona. "And she is somehow connected to Flemeth?"

He watched as all three Wardens nodded solemnly at her rapid-fire questions, and Nathaniel added, "It seems you were wrapped up in this even before anyone started making connections about the Amell family."

The stories then turned to Amaranthine. To talking darkspawn and broodmothers. Carver watched the sorrow creep into Meghan's eyes as she heard Solona talk about Anders and Justice as separate and Nathaniel talk about the assault on Amaranthine, the one that ultimately killed the last of her family. But as they explained their deal with the Architect, Meghan's expression changed, the sadness replaced by something more pensive. And Carver couldn't help but watch Meghan in awe as she again started making connections, connections he didn't see until she said them out loud.

"So these assassination attempts aren't random. They aren't about mages or the Theirin bloodline or some leftover Loghain sympathizers. You think it's the Wardens."

"Yes," Solona said quietly, "we do."

"And Alistair was ordered here to keep you both apart?" Meghan asked.

"We think so," Solona answered.

Carver let that piece of information soak in. It made sense—trying to keep Solona and Alistair off balance, to keep their power in check by keeping them apart in a way that most wouldn't question, in a way that appeared official and legitimate. But they were both still successful and still beloved by their Wardens, by the citizens of Ferelden, and now, with the help of Meghan and Hawke brothers, much of the Free Marches as well.

"It's getting worse, isn't it? Here, I mean." Carver's question was directed at Zevran. When the elf nodded, Carver asked "So why don't we go back to Ferelden?"

At this, Zevran grinned. "That is what I have been telling Alistair all month."

"It's not that simple," Alistair insisted, explaining that he would need some way to make his return appear as official as the original posting had been, some way to where the First Warden in Weisshaupt would have no way to stop him from returning.

Carver sat back as the others started tossing around ideas, missions or plans that might require Alistair's presence in Ferelden. He quickly lost track of their elaborate schemes as he watched Meghan. He kept coming back to the idea that it was her connection to him that had dragged her into this mess. It was his fault. It wasn't just about Alistair and Solona. Whatever plan they came up with had to ensure her safety as well.

He finally shifted his gaze to Alistair and, interrupting whatever debate they were currently having, asked, "Your original order was to build a troop of Wardens in the Free Marches, right?"

He could feel everyone looking at him, but he kept his eyes on Alistair. And when Alistair said yes, Carver continued with his thought.

"So, you've done that. You just need a new Commander here. Stroud or someone, some Marcher who's been a Warden for a couple of years. Then you take the Fereldan Wardens back to Ferelden. There's only us and Bear and Eira, right?"

Alistair opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then he shut it and looked at Solona.

"You could send us to back Ostwick in the meantime," Meghan added. "The outpost there is smaller, so it's more secure."

Nathaniel was nodding now as well. "It's also on the coast, which makes it easier to get to Ferelden if we need a swift escape."

"And," Zevran chuckled, "easier to hide bodies."

Carver was watching Solona and Alistair stare at each other, clearly thinking through every argument they could, when another thought occurred to him.

"You know," he said, "we should also do that expedition to the Deep Roads. I mean, we've been dragging our feet on it, but it was technically an order from the First Warden, right? So we do that, map out that thaig my brother found. That'd make a pretty solid peace offering to Weisshaupt too, wouldn't it?"

At that Solona smiled widely at Carver. "I am so very glad I finally got to meet you, cousin."

The rest of the night was spent planning out their moves. It would take time, to do things right, to tie up every loose end in Ansburg, to make sure the argument for Fereldan Wardens returning to Ferelden was solid.

After everyone left, Carver and Meghan silently went about cleaning up the mugs of tea and cups of wine, putting out the fire, and double-checking the bolt on the door. The whole time, Carver tried to ignore the little knot of guilt that had formed in his stomach. Neither of them spoke until they were both in bed, Carver on his back, hands folded loosely across his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. It was Meghan who finally broke the silence.

"You can't have children," she whispered.

Carver sighed. He knew that particular Warden secret was one she hadn't heard until the story of Morrigan's ritual came up. He hadn't kept it from her intentionally, but they'd never talked about kids. Or marriage. Or anything like that. So he'd never told her. And now it added another twist in his gut.

"It's…not that I can't. It's just…rare for Wardens."

He felt her shift closer to him.

"I'm sorry." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"You're sorry?" He sat up abruptly, swung his feet to the floor, and dropped his head in his hands. "I should be the one who's sorry. You deserve better. You should have a normal life...You deserve children and a proper home and…not having to run away every year and worry about…I can't give you that. I'll never be able to."

From behind him, he heard her sigh and shift in the bed again. For a moment, he wondered if she was getting up to leave. But she just wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, one knee pressed into his back the other leg dangling off the edge of the bed next to his.

She rested her cheek on his arm and said, "You're an idiot, Carver Hawke."