They had made exactly as much progress on their way to Vol Dorma as Chantal had thought. She had shrugged and stated when one spent as much time as she did marching around, you got quite good at estimating time and distances. She said she'd completed a full circle of Ferelden three times during the blight. Shale said it was because the soft creatures kept getting lost and questioned how they had managed to stop the blight in the first place. "Everyone's a critic." Chantal sniffed.
They did not enter the city that night, instead making camp a respectable distance away. Chantal said, quite firmly, she had no intention in setting foot in another Tevinter city unless she had to. The more she spoke, the more anxious Hawke appeared. Finally, Fenris growled at Chantal that she wasn't helping, and the Warden, rather contritely, endeavored to get Hawke to help make sense of her stolen tomes from the Warden fortress. This left Hawke with little free time to dread, and gave Fenris time to plan. His ally in this, surprisingly, was Zevran.
"Subterfuge will be easier for you and her." Zevran explained. "She is a natural actress, no? And you are much more familiar with Tevinter than I, so you can steer her straight."
The problem would come down to, quite simply, gaining entry to the city of Minrathous. There was only one way in and out of the city and it was manned heavily by guards. The best way to get through without being stopped was to look too important and distinguished to stop. Chantal had agreed to this plan originally as well, posing as a Magister with a dwarf and golem bodyguards and an elven slave. She'd been able to maintain the facade going in and out of the city, but as Zevran explained she was hopeless at lying. Too much chantry as a child, he explained sympathetically. Inside Minrathous itself…
It was a cruel city, Fenris knew this. Zevran did not need to explain, yet he did. "She… she hated the circle, but she hated more that she did not hate it until she left it. Sometimes our cages are so exquisite, we never dream of leaving. Chantal was the pampered pet of the first enchanter, a favored apprentice, and so young when she was brought to the circle she knew nothing else. Seeing Minrathous reminded her of this, I suspect, so many people bound to their cages."
"The slaves of Minrathous have precious few ways to leave." Fenris couldn't quite keep the anger out of his voice. Zevran simply smiled sadly.
"Ah, neither did the mages of Kinloch hold. She choose a death sentence to escape and I imagine many of the slaves would understand her predicament quite well." He turned and looked at Chantal and Hake, laying on their bedrolls beside the fire, books in hand. Fenris said nothing, could say nothing past the rising lump of dread in his throat.
They retired to their tent when Zevran and Chantal retire to theirs, leaving Oghren singing drunkenly under his breath and Shale critiquing it. No point in setting watch, Chantal says brightly, if Shale hasn't murdered them in their sleep yet she's unlikely to do so. Fenris does not find this comforting, but Hawke in his arms more than made up for it as he pulled her to him desperately, like a man dying of thirst. She muffled her cries of pleasure against his shoulder as he took her, fingers tangled in his hair. "I will let nothing take you from me." He whispered to her after, when he held her tight.
"I know." She answered groggily, lacing her fingers with his. "Go to sleep Fenris."
And he does, smiling.
It is the slave's auction in Minrathous, right off the docks. Fenris had been there often enough, unfortunately. Mostly to get rid of the slaves Danarius deemed ruined, those who had been maimed too badly to continue serving him and to assist in hauling back to the estate the new ones, trembling fearfully when informed who their new master was. Several times, a younger slave had burst into tears, such had Danarius's cruelty been known.
But Danarius is here now, his eyes glowing fade blue and holding a chain attached to a collar welded shut around Hawke's slender neck. She is naked, covered in bruises, and trembling as she kneels beside him, blood pooling from her split lip down her face and chest.
He goes to yell, but no sound comes. Then, the image is frozen, as if time itself has stopped, and there is a woman with dark hair and yellow eyes beside him, glaring up at Danarius with reproach.
"I sought my friend, and while searching for her dream, I find yours instead. Blast and damnation for me, but fortunate for you." And her yellow eyes turn from Danarius to him with a smirk. "Unless you want this demon to continue to torment you?"
Demon? Before he can question, Danarius's mouth is open, but it is not Danarius's voice. "Begone, Intruder!" The voice rumbles like a force of nature. "Do not interfere with Justice!"
"Is that you call yourself?" The dark haired woman laughed, raising her hand and snapping her fingers. The scene dissolved, replaced with…
The clinic, Darktown's clinic, Ander's clinic. And instead of Danarius, Anders stood before them with the demon inside him glowing blinding blue. "Twould seem that you're but a silly boy with too much time on his hands. Go play elsewhere, I have business to conclude here."
Anders stepped forward, the woman stretched out her hand. Something pulsed, and changed, and then Fenris was around a fire, it's warm glow sending embers up into the night sky as a red headed young woman hummed, braiding the dark hair of the woman seated before her. The woman, near Hawke's doppelganger, had wide brown eyes that were flitting between the two young men across the fire even as her hand stroked a large Mabari hound who laid his head in her lap.
"The stories we hear down here about the crows...they're not true, are they? They sound far fetched." The first young man said as he polished his breastplate, scratching at his beard.
"I cannot say." The blonde elf said from his lounging position on the ground. "What have you heard? In Antiva, we hear Ferelden men can't bear to sleep without a dog."
"Morrigan would say that is because the dogs are the only things the men can talk into their bed." The red head said slyly. "Isn't that right, Morrigan?"
"Perhaps it is simply a comment on the poor state of your women." A gruff voice said. A hornless Qunari stood, a bit apart from the others. Zevran, a much younger Zevran, laughed.
"But I'm Ferelden." The girl getting her hair braided protested, sounding properly hurt.
"Ah, little enchantress, that is how we know the stories are not true." Zevran assured quickly. "For you carry the very stars in your eyes."
The red head scoffed, shaking her head. "Do not pay attention to them, Chantal."
The girl, the hero of Ferelden, blushed almost crimson and Zevran continued without comment.
"But those stories, Alistair? All true."
"Really, even…" Alistair began, as wide eyed as Chantal.
"Especially those ones." Zevran said suggestively.
"Maker, I'm in the wrong order." Alistair muttered under his breath.
"See anyone you recognize, elf? Ah, I thought so." The witch was beside him, yellow eyes gleaming. "Tell her you saw this, so she knows it was me. Fool woman has always slept light as a cat, I may never catch her here. Then tell her I said to go west, to where the old magic is. She'll find it there, I know it."
"Who are you? What was… before this?" Fenris asked, bewildered and confused and… angry.
"They call me the Witch of the Wilds. And before this...I think you know well enough who hunts you, more than I certainly. Some spirit or demon who holds a grudge and twists your dreams. He will return, as I suspect he has for some time, until you end it." And with that, the witch smirked again and snapped her fingers.
Fenris awoke with heart hammering, but Hawke had not stirred. Her heartbeat was reassuring under his curled fingers, thrumming steadily as he breathed in and out, thoughts racing. Then he shifted Hawke gently and decisively, exiting the tent to a sky full of burning stars and someone humming. Humming the same song the red headed woman had been humming, hands full of dark hair and a fire burning before them. And when he looked up, he saw the older version of that girl scratching behind Lucia's ears as she stared into the flames. Shale, Oghren, Zevran were all nowhere to be found. At his approach, she stopped her humming and turned with a pleasant and gentle smile.
"I hope I didn't wake you. I haven't slept through the whole night since before the blight. Drives Zevran mad." She offered. "Fine mabari, you have. I had a companion just like him when I was younger."
"The King of Ferelden said she was bred of that one." Fenris said, gathering his scattered thoughts, pondering if he was still dreaming.
"Ah! I thought you looked familiar." Chantal said, smiling fondly at Lucia. "A fine hound, he was. You have a great legacy to live up to." Lucia's stump of a tail wiggled and her tongue slipped from her snout as she gave the finest example of her own smile.
"Do you know a mage with yellow eyes and dark hair?" Fenris asked, then watched as Chantal's hand froze in mid-air. "A witch of the wilds, one who can walk the fade? She came to me as I slept, inserted herself in my dreams, showed a memory of you gathered around the fire with Zevran and King Alistair, a Qunari, and a red headed…"
"Sten and Leliana." Chantal finished before he could. "Sweet Andraste, what was she doing bothering you?"
Fenris took a deep breath, and told her.
After he finished, Chantal woke up everyone in a whirlwind of fury and fear. Hawke still rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he told the whole thing again, watching as her blue eyes became troubled, then furious.
Shale declared that the "swamp witch" had never been a reliable ally. Zevran pointed out in a reasonable tone that Morrigan had yet to actually stab them in the back. Oghren was confused and needed prompting from Chantal to remember which of "her bleedin' strays" they were talking about. But it was Hawke he watched, her face ashen and blue eyes burning, silent until Chantal said they'd go with them to hunt Anders down. Hawke turned and asked Chantal one simple question.
"Do you still think you'd save him?" She asked. And Chantal hesitated just long enough for Hawke to smile wryly. Chantal sighed, dropping her eyes to her clenched hands. "Too sweet, just like Bethany." Hawke muttered.
"You don't understand what it was like in the circle." Chantal argued, nails pressing into her palms. "You didn't know Justice and Anders before." Then she stood, turning quickly and crashing into the darkness and underbrush.
"She'll be alright." Zevran said smoothly. "For the record, I very much agree. She doesn't have it in her heart to kill the man and he poses too great a danger to you and your husband to live."
"So we head west into the great unknown?" Oghren asked suspiciously.
"We need a great deal more supplies than we have currently, I'm afraid. A week, perhaps more?" Zevran paused, thinking. "Enough time to see you on your way, cousins."
Hawke smiled, fragile and bitter in her face. "Thank you."
"Do not thank me." Zevran said seriously, standing. "I fear our quest has a time limit and I cannot bear a delay."
"Thank you regardless." Fenris added on stiffly.
The week to gather supplies stretched into two. Chantal was talked round to leaving by Shale and Zevran in turn and focused her efforts on teaching Hawke everything Chantal herself knew about Grey Warden lore, magic, Anders and Justice prior to their merging, and the witch named Morrigan with a desperation born of a woman who truly believed she would never return from the west when she left. In return, Hawke helped Chantal stockpile poultices and potions, dozens of little bottles rolled in soft cloth and stuffed securely into packs.
Zevran's attitude was much more practical, focused on assembling enough ingredients for healing draughts, whetstones, warm cloaks, blankets, spare boots. He had asked Zevran on his first excursion (alone, since Oghren and Shale refused to accompany him and it was thought better for Chantal and Hawke to remain out of sight) to bring back items for him. When he spread them out in their tent that night, Hawke had laughed and traced up the new chainmail armor.
"Years I've spent trying to get you out of that spiky contraption you wear. If I'd have known a trip to Tevinter would accomplish it." Her tone was gently teasing, even if her expression was petulant.
"I hope to make myself less conspicuous. I may have… more fame in Tevinter than I would like." Fenris admitted.
"Well that will be a welcome change of pace." Hawke muttered. "I'm sick of being the one everyone talks about. Let's try it on."
And so, he stripped off the last vestiges of his life before Kirkwall, replacing it with a long sleeved mail shirt and dark leather and steel gauntlets. It settled, cold against the lyrium and Hawke smiled, resting her lips gently on his cheek. "It is perfect." She whispered.
With a cloak thrown up that shadowed his face, he made his first foray into Vol Dorma with Zevran. Fenris had passed through the bustling market town several times during his tenure as Danarius's bodyguard. Then, people had scurried out of his way, throwing terrified glances at his sword and his master. Now, the two elves had to push through the crowds to the market stalls. Although cautious glances were thrown at Fenris's sword, nobody paid the two much mind as they made their purchases. Powders for the face from a woman who asked Fenris to thank his Mistress for her, layers of expensive silk that he brought to a tailor, where the man took Hawke's measurements without blinking an eye, despite the grumbling that depriving a master such as him of a canvas to show his clothes was a crime. Several rather expensive gold bangles.
When they returned, Hawke laughed at the shining bracelets and held them up to the light. "Is this really necessary?" She asked skeptically. "I only need to get into the damned city, Fenris."
"You've got to pass the whole way up the Imperial Highway." Chantal observed. "Then get into the city."
"Lovely." Hawke's face darkened and she looked up at Fenris. "We don't have to do this. We can...I don't know, climb the walls."
"This is our best chance." Fenris said with a shrug. And when they went to sleep, Hawke found him in his dreams and brought him to her field of flowers in Lothering, where he was safe from Anders or Justice or whatever he now was. Despite her best efforts to appear calm and peaceful, thunder rolled on the horizon and Hawke scowled at it.
Three days later, Fenris picked up the silk dresses and brought them back to Hawke. Chantal's eyes lit up at the beauty of the material and she held the fabric up to Hawke's skin thoughtfully. They vanished into Chantal's tent, the other woman giggling as the fabric rustled. When they emerged, Hawke was a vision in delicate and sinfully sheer layers of scarlet and cream fabric that did little to hide her form, her hair loose around her shoulders.
"We will have to do something about your hair. A proper Magister would never leave it loose or braid it so simply." Fenris observed.
"Thank the Maker I'm not a proper Magister." Hawke snapped, moving the fabric with an annoyed twitch of her hand.
"And your complexion is too pale, even for a proper lady from Minrathous." Zevran shrugged apologetically. "The powder will help, no?"
"I'll teach you some tricks. Leliana did quite well at educating me." Chantal offered, smoothing Hawke's long hair back.
"I do not want to learn…" Hawke began. Chantal simply clucked her tongue.
"I'll teach you that trick to change into a bird. You could be a real hawk, what do you think?" Hawke's eyes burned, but her teeth clicked shut and she simply smouldered into the fire.
The next day, Fenris took Hawke into Vol Dorma with her skin brushed copper with the powder, bare forearms shadowed in scarlet silk and blue eyes lined in kohl with her hair braided intricately around the crown of her head. They'd already had an argument before entering the city when Fenris insisted she had to walk a few steps in front of him instead of by his side and Hawke had threatened to storm the gates of Minrathous single-handedly rather than put up the charade one moment longer. "See, you'll do fine." Zevran said generously. "You've already got the temper down."
That had been enough to get her out of camp, but she lingered before the market anxiously in a quiet alley, her head turning just a fraction towards Fenris. "Don't look at me, venhedis woman. Do you think a Magister looks to her slaves?"
"You are not a slave." Hawke hissed. "I hate this."
There were tears in her throat, even if he couldn't see them. She continued. "You're going to hate me by the end of this, I'll be everything you hate. I can't…"
Fenris chuckled, low in his throat, reaching out to let his gauntleted fingers brush her shoulder lightly. "I have never been more sure of you, Reyna. I can see what this costs you."
"Fenris, if it… if you can't bear it…" Hawke said softly. "We must leave. You have to promise me."
"I promise." Fenris said, withdrawing his arm. "It is only an act, Reyna. Remember when they named you champion and expected you at every noble function? They simpered at your feet and you laughed behind your hand and said they'd have called you a turnip months earlier and spat at you, but you played the part. It is only that again, and I am with you now as I was then."
Hawke took a deep breath, steeled herself, then took one unsteady step into the marketplace. Fenris followed at a respectful distance, watching as the people scurried from her path. Her head was up, nose in the air, until she arrived at the tailor's shop. She stopped as he'd instructed her to do, waiting for him to reach and open the door, allowing her to storm into the shop in a flurry of silk. The owner of the shop raced from behind the counter, nearly tripping over the rugs on the floor.
"Ah! A stunning vision!" He pronounced. "My lady, may I help you?"
"I find myself surprisingly pleased by your work." Hawke said haughtily, her bejeweled hands lifting then discarding a fine piece of silk like it cost no more than a copper.
"Yes!" The tailor said, bowing. "This way my lady, please look at my ware…"
Fenris caught Hawke's blue eyes in the mirror and she smirked as if to ask if that would do. Fenris nodded, then lowered his eyes, folding himself into a corner as Hawke practiced her imperious demands.
When they returned to the camp, Oghren was the only one in evidence, passed out and snoring beside Lucia. Hawke grabbed his hand and drug him to the tent, bringing his rough gauntlets to her soft skin under the silk. "I love you." She whispered desperately. And Fenris nearly shredded the silky things in an effort to pin her under him.
When they emerged, it was to applause and cheers from Chantal and Zevran. While they waited for the rest of Hawke's fine wardrobe and the rest of the supplies, Chantal taught patiently.
"I don't understand." Chantal mused, tipping her head to the side as she stared down Hawke, cross legged on the ground before her. "I can see you pulling the mana correctly, but nothing is happening. It's peculiar."
"Perhaps her mana knows that her husband does not approve." Fenris observed.
"Fuck my husband, I want to be a bird." Hawke whined. Chantal smiled softly.
"You'll get it." She encouraged. "If I can learn, you can."
With the rest of their supplies purchased and Chantal ready to leave after two weeks assembling her supplies, Hawke shrewdly picked out and purchased a spirited white mare on her last trip to the city, but Fenris had to quietly direct her to a pretty side saddle. She could not quite hide her displeasure as she purchased it, but the stable master had assumed it was the cost and assured her that he was priced as well as he could be for his mounts.
"I don't know how to ride this way." Hawke whispered as he made to help her mount.
"Take it slow." Fenris guided. "I'll be on this side."
He walked before the mare, guiding Hawke through the market. "Wait!" She said as they passed the food stalls. Fenris nearly tripped over himself as Hawke slipped from the saddle and had to fight the urge to curse her impulsiveness. She adjusted her dress and walked briskly toward the market stalls, stopping in one selling chunks of fish on sticks. Fenris could have gagged as she purchased one.
"Don't glare." Hawke muttered. "It smelled so good."
"As you say, Mistress." Fenris answered, an emphasis on Mistress that made Hawke roll her eyes as he lifted her back into the saddle. She finished the fish as they rode, then tossed the stick into the distance once they were outside the city.
Upon returning to the camp, most of the supplies already packed away, Hawke tethered the horse to a low tree as she spoke to Chantal. Then she turned, as suddenly as she had in the market and dove into the nearest bush. Fenris could hear the sound of her retching and swore again, pouring water over a wet scrap of plain cotton.
"You had to eat that fish." He said scornfully.
"Never eat fish you don't catch yourself. It was Alistair's second lesson to me on life outside the circle." Chantal said sympathetically, pulling Hawke's hair clear from her face.
"What was the first?" Hawke asked, accepting the cloth Fenris handed her and pressing it against her mouth.
"Don't get killed by darkspawn." Chantal grinned. "Very important lesson. Changed my life."
Hawke laughed at that, shaking her head.
"I feel like I'll never see you again." Chantal said tearfully as they packed the last of their supplies.
"Of course you will. After the world is done falling apart. You'll swoop back from the west with the cure for the blight on a griffon, most likely." Hawke soothed. Chantal laughed.
"Don't you know? Swooping is not good." She answered, kissing Hawke's cheek. "I would have loved knowing you when we grew up. We'd have had such fun."
"You'd have loved Bethany." Hawke said softly. "Really."
"I know I would have. I like Carver too, really!" She added as the skeptical look on Hawke's face.
"Be safe." Fenris said, offering his hand to Zevran.
"Safety is so boring." Zevran chuckled, accepting the gesture. "I will bring you back something exotic."
"And Anders…" Chantal said, stopping at the dark look Fenris shot her. "I know, but if you get a chance… tell him I'm sorry. Please."
"If we get a chance, but I doubt we will. He's a bit busy being crazy, you know." And with that, Hawke embraced Chantal one last time. "And I'll keep working on the bird thing. I'll get it, I swear."
"I know you will." Chantal smiled. And with that, Fenris helped Hawke onto the side saddle, whistling for Lucia to smile as they exited the clearing. He could feel Chantal's brown eyes on their backs until they emerged from the trees onto the imperial highway, Vol Dorma behind them, the road to Minrathous before them.
"Last chance." Hawke said darkly. "We can call this whole plan madness and do it my way."
"Onward." Fenris ordered, tugging the reins out of her hands. Hawke sighed, adjusting her elaborate braids and bangles as Fenris led the horse forward, Lucia trotting happily at their heels.