He was somewhere round. A tower, perhaps? The stone walls curved gracefully around and doors lined the side. He could hear shushed laughter as he walked, saw robed forms walking around him. A woman with white hair knelt next to a crying child, whispering encouragingly. A templar that looked familiar entered one room. Fenris followed, but did not recognize him until light from window caught his face. Cullen?
"Apprentice Amell." He called, his voice cracking on the girl's name. He coughed, then called again. "Amell."
"I'm here." A girl whispered from one of the tables, surrounded by books. She was tucking long dark hair behind her ear as she stood. An almost perfect replica of Hawke except so much younger looking than Fenris had ever seen Hawke. She looked more a child than a woman, her doe eyes soft on Cullen and Cullen swallowed, hard, looking everywhere but into the girl's face.
"It is… I've been sent to fetch you by the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter." Cullen said.
"Oh...I… oh." The girl stuttered, looking behind her towards the sun shining through the windows, the other robed figured all listening intently, but none turning to look. He thought she may cry, but only for a moment before she gathered herself and Fenris could see the iron behind her spine. "Right. It's time."
"You'll do well." Cullen rushed out. "Of course you will."
Fenris nearly snorted in amusement. He'd never seen the man look like a daft puppy, but now that he had, he was fairly certain he would not forget it. Chantal Amell slowly but steadily closed her book, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready."
In one corner, a man with dark hair and an impressive beard stared out after the woman thoughtfully. He was wearing Warden armor, but in the other corner...
"Bets on whether or not she comes back." Anders drawled in a whisper designed to carry, leaning precariously back in his chair. "Irving's pet, isn't she? Quiet as a chantry mouse."
"Don't be cruel." A woman said, even as she smirked into her cards.
"My dear!" The older woman with white hair had rushed in, folding the childlike girl into her arms and kissing her cheek. "I'll walk with you, unless you wished to have the sole honor, Ser Rutherford?"
"I...ah, no. You are most welcome." Cullen gave a small incline of a bow as both women emerged into a hallway and the group near Anders burst into snickers. The old woman tossed a pointed glance in their direction before she exited. Fenris attempted to follow, but he'd only made two steps before the entire room darkened, as if the sun had been switched off. A cold, dank breeze floated in from cracked windows. Papers scattered over the floor, some ripped, some charred.
"I always thought they were rather similar. Hawke is certainly louder, but growing up in the circle would muffle a person." The voice came from the corner, less arrogant, more weary. When Fenris turned, he saw Anders sitting in the same spot, staring listlessly at the floor.
"I don't recall it ever muffling you, mage." Fenris growled. Anders almost smiled, looking up.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. "So very sorry, for everything that's happened. For everything that will."
"Stay away from us." Fenris took several strides to the mage, lifted him by his robes and shoved him against the empty, decaying bookshelves.
"Fenris…" Anders coughed, choking as he was hoisted. Without further warning, Fenris plunged his arm into the mage's chest, reached for his heart and felt…
"I am not of mortal men." Anders said weakly as Fenris's fingers closed around nothing.
"I hate to break it to you, but your bedside manner could be improved by leaps and bounds."
"Kaffas, quit whining. The more you squirm the longer this will take."
A dog whined and someone let out a deep sigh of resignation. Fenris could not quite find the strength to open his eyes, but he could feel his head resting on something (someone?) soft and warm, elegant fingers stroking his hair. It felt...nice.
"That was some impressive swording." Hawke, he thought, relieved. Whole, or at least whole enough to complain and whine.
"Swording?" The second voice questioned, torn between confusion and vague irritation. "Is that what they call it in the Free Marches? Barbarians."
"Very impressive. How did a tailor and a mage learn that?" Hawke asked blithely.
"How did a southern mage with such a big mouth remain free of the circle?" The other woman asked. There was something familiar about that voice too, something half forgotten.
"I'm very good at hiding." Hawke answered disingenuously. The other woman scoffed audibly and Hawke amended her statement. "My mother and father were very good at hiding."
He heard a thread snap. "There. At least you won't leave a blood trail any longer. Are you feeling any better?"
"Is that concern, Varania? I'm touched." Varania. And images were coming back, disjointed, painful. Agony through his skin, the lyrium scars burning into his muscles and Hawke's tear filled eyes, her head wrenched back by her braid and he helpless to stop it.
"He's too heavy to carry myself." Varania answered. He could hear her moving. He needed to open his eyes, needed to see. He forced his muscles to work, felt his fingers twitch. More pictures came, unbidden. A gauntlet smashing into Hawke's face, her lip bleeding. Ice climbing up the legs of the guards, snapping them in half easily. And a woman tumbling from the ledge, a blade glowing like magic in her hands.
"Right." Hawke sighed, brushing her fingers lightly over his forehead. "And you're sure nothing's wrong with… with it?"
With it? He didn't hear Varania's response, was too focused on the harsh words ringing around his head in a voice that didn't match the insane cruelty in his eyes.
Tell me, Champion, does that baby inside you belong to this wild dog?
Finally, he found the strength to open his eyes, to stare up at Hawke's long neck, her head tilted upwards toward Varania who was out of sight. His head was resting on her thighs as she sat. His hand flashed out, grabbing hers tightly, only barely aware that he was probably leaving bruises on her delicate Ferelden skin. "Fenris!" She exclaimed, delighted, turning her blue eyes to him. "Thank the Maker, I was…"
"Pregnant." He interrupted. "You're pregnant."
The tunnel they were in was suddenly much quieter. Varania coughed and he let his eyes flick to her quickly, before turning back to Hawke. His wife. His pregnant wife. "I will scout ahead." Varania declared, to no one in particular, or perhaps the tunnel.
"Wait, you can't. I still have barely any mana." Hawke protested uneasily, her eyes pleadingly staring after Varania.
"If someone comes from behind you, be as loud as I know you are capable of being. Specify that you are in danger so I know it is not a continuation of this quarrel." Varania offered over her shoulder, already halfway gone. Fenris let his grip slide to Hawke's wrist.
"Reyna." He growled. "You cannot be pregnant. You said…"
"I know what I said!" She exploded, yanking her wrist from his grip. Fenris sat up, perhaps too quickly. The tunnel spun in place, but he ignored it in favor of Hawke's blue eyes, an anchor in the darkness. Next to him, Lucia whined and cocked her head to the side. "I was wrong. Apparently."
"But the Arishok's sword, the…" He gestured uselessly at her abdomen. Hawke crossed her arms defensively across her naked stomach. Her lip was still swollen from the gauntlet, a rather nasty scrape up the side of her face. Her blouse was laying next to her, the shoulder covered in red. The dagger, the one that had been covered in magebane. He stopped, staring at it. "You're injured. You're pregnant and injured."
"Varania assures me I'll survive both conditions." Hawke answered wryly. "She just stitched up the dagger wound. She tried to heal it, but all the magebane is concentrated around it and her magic just isn't taking. I didn't want her to waste any additional mana since I've got barely enough to light a candle and you've been…" Hawke frowned, staring darkly over her shoulder. "That bastard took everything right out of you."
"That bastard almost took you." Fenris reminded her, reaching for her upper arm and twining his fingers around you. "What would you have done, Hawke?" He demanded. "What were you thinking? How long have you known about this?"
"Not nearly as long as you think." Hawke challenged, huffing out her breath. "I wasn't thinking I could be pregnant. I only realized a few days ago."
"And you should have told me. We should have left Minrathous then, you fool woman!" Fenris roared, pushing himself away from her and standing, pacing away from her. He felt like a caged animal.
"And leave your sister and her daughter to their fates?" Hawke asked bitterly. "I think not. I knew you would do this, that's why…"
"You lied to me." Fenris accused. "Fasta vass, Reyna. You lied to me!" The words felt like poison in his mouth, like a wound in his heart. Hawke was silent, eyes cast to the floor of the cave, scratching helplessly at the dirt with her nail. In his fury he lashed out, driving his aching fist into the wall of the tunnel. Hawke winced. The pain felt good, a focus to take the edge off the whirlwind of disjointed thoughts. Hawke helpless, bleeding, as a twisted man stroked her cheek like a lover. Hawke, careless, foolish Hawke throwing fire in an alley. A child with blue eyes and black hair that called him papa. An impossible child, made of dreams and wishes.
"You cannot be with child." He growled. "It is impossible."
"I know this isn't what you signed up for." She began, tone as light as she could make it. Hiding all the hurt under humor. "I was going to tell you, Fenris, as soon as we left the city. And… I don't know. We'll figure it out. It's early yet, if you don't want it we'll…"
"Don't want it?" He repeated, stunned. He blinked once, twice, but Hawke didn't move. She didn't look up.
"There are ways to rid oneself of an unwanted child. If we can't stomach that, I suppose we can give it away once its born." Her voice was devoid now of any trace of humor or lightness. "That's if I don't get it killed before then. As you have so aptly pointed out, I'm not exactly mother material. The stubborn thing has managed to hang on so far, but I'm sure…"
"Stop." He couldn't bear for her to continue, and she still did not look up. He felt himself deflate, sinking into a crouch beside her. His anger was fading into tatters. "You're with child? Truly? You're certain?"
"Yes." Hawke answered with a voice as brittle as frost. "I realized after that night in the fade, with Anders. He could see it, and when I looked...I could too. A light that isn't mine, but is a part of me. Varania confirmed it too, and I'd hope she knows what she's doing. She said my parts were...damaged by the Arishok, but not thoroughly broken. It just made conceiving take longer than it would otherwise."
"And you told her last night?" Fenris asked darkly. Hawke laughed.
"Of course I didn't." She continued to scratch a symbol thoughtlessly into the dirt. "But she's been pregnant and she's a mage. I think she knew before I even leaped out her bedroom window."
Fenris growled, but this made Hawke look up with a rather skeptical expression. "You can be mad at me, but you're not allowed to be angry with her. Not after what she just did for us."
An image flashed in his mind, a glowing sword. He looked over his shoulder into the darkness of the tunnel where Varania had vanished. For the first time, he noticed the small will-o-wisp of light hanging above their heads like a star plucked from the sky. Not Hawke's magic, but not unfamiliar. It didn't prickle his aching scars, in fact, the magic was so subtle and quiet he could barely feel it's hum at all. "She came back." He stated. "Where is Sabina?"
"With Ivy." Hawke answered. "Your sister is desperate to get back to them."
As he would be if he had a child. A child growing within Hawke. "How long… the child, when will it be born?" He asked, reaching out to take Hawke's chin between his fingers, careful of the gauntlets he wore on her delicate skin.
"About seven months? Give or take a week or so. We… we conceived right after Adamant, I think. In that damn swamp, most likely." Hawke's eyes finally met his and there was a shine of wet tears in them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting this happen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"I am going to be a father." His voice was soft and even he could hear the longing laced within his tone. Whatever Hawke expected, it was not this. She looked shocked, one silver tear falling in surprise down her cheek. He brushed it absently with his thumb.
"Fenris, a baby. We can't… my entire family is dead or dying. A small, helpless…" Hawke gave up, eyes wide in a plea to make him understand. "We are stuck in a tunnel under Minrathous. We just escaped a magister who almost certainly was going to use your sister and niece to lure you back. Anders…"
"Anders?" Fenris said, bewildered.
"Yes, Anders, just collapsed a tunnel on himself because he was fighting Justice for control after saving us. You wouldn't remember that because you were unconscious after the Magister kept pulling magic out of these damn markings which is the second time in the last six months I thought I was going to lose you, if you're keeping track." Hawke added sourly, lips puckering as she glared at the lines on his throat. "You know, I used to think they were just pretty."
"I've told you for a long time they were not. You are simply too stubborn to listen to sense." Fenris commented, allowing his fingers to trace up the scrape on Hawke's face. "Do you know what would have happened to the child if the Magister had taken you, Reyna."
"I've a fair idea." She shuddered under his fingers in revulsion. Fenris sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. Her skin seared against the markings, but he was glad of the pain. It cleared things.
"Tell me everything that happened, Reyna. From the moment you admitted you were carrying my child. That is the last thing I remember clearly." He demanded. And she took a deep breath, and did.
She had finished only seconds before he heard Varania's quiet footsteps began to approach. Hawke looked up at him, conflicting emotions warring on her face. Guilt, fear, worry, and a beguiling shimmer of hope that felt like gold. And all that had happened, Varania's daring rescue, their near-escape from the abomination, it all paled to one thing, repeated on a loop in his head. He would be a father, he would be a father, he would be…
"I only have one question." He said quietly, whispering the words against her temple. "Do you want this child of mine? Knowing all that has happened because of my past, is it worth it to you?"
She nodded, speechless for one of the only times he had ever known her to be. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, then the word barely a whisper against him. Yes. He pressed his searing kiss against her temple. It was decided, then.
"I will keep you safe, I swear. Both of you." He whispered in return, a promise the caused his hand to move on its own, to press against her abdomen and the soft round curve of her stomach. "I promise you, Reyna."
"I cannot see the end, but I believe I can feel a draft." Varania announced, at once awkward and decisive. "We should keep moving." She didn't meet their eyes, instead fiddling with her sleeve before kneeling and grabbing their bags.
"Can you walk?" Hawke asked. Fenris nodded, standing and offering her his hand, pulling her to her feet. Before she walked away, he allowed himself to trace the wound in her shoulder. Neat stitches sealed it shut and it had been cleaned and tended to as nicely as it could be. Hawke retrieved her blouse and shrugged it on, strapping her bags around a waist and then picking up his, making to sling them over her shoulder.
"I will carry those." He said impatiently, snatching them from her hands. "Are yours too heavy? Should you be carrying them?"
"I just carried half of your weight several miles, I'll think I'll be fine." Hawke's lips twitched in barely concealed amusement and her eyes flicked over his shoulder. He turned just in time to see Varania hurriedly looking away, her own lips curved up in a small smile.
"I am grateful for your assistance." He began, too halting, too formal, but unable to grasp onto any other words. "You did not have to return, but I appreciate…"
"I did." She interrupted, turning quickly away from him and the light from the ceiling began to bob over them, moving slowly to Varania and then beyond her. "I would like to continue."
Fenris looked hopeless at Hawke who shrugged with an ease and informality he envied. She gestured with her hand for him to continue after her. And he fell in beside Hawke as Varania's light filled the tunnel with strange shadows, twisted and reaching. He felt as if he should say something else, anything else, but there was a thought, dancing just out of reach, a memory hiding in the shadows of the Magister's face, voice. Too painful to look at directly, but an ache he couldn't stop probing as he stared at the straight line of Varania's back. "Why did you return?" He finally asked. Varania did not stop or pause, she did not look over her shoulder at him. She continued on, in silence at first, before the words left her mouth.
"My brother would not have left me."
Eventually, it became clear that there was a draft. Fenris could smell fresh air, a relief in the closed and claustrophobic tunnels that reminded him so much of the Deep Roads and Carver dying in his sister's arms. Deepstalkers, lone and easily frightened by the light, scattered from their path as the tunnel gradually began to slope upwards until finally they came to a ladder, a trap door above them. They paused, anxious and listening for any sound before Fenris stepped forward and grasped the ladder, hauling his aching body up it and pushing gently against the door. It opened enough for him to look out at a dirty floor, old barrels in his line of vision, the smell of cows strong. There was no sign of a person and he opened it a bit further, swinging out, anticipating an attack that didn't come. He stood, examining his surroundings. A root cellar he had to stoop to stand in, long unused, and yet the floor was suspiciously clean. There should have been dusty, but there was none at all. Ivy, he thought, would have cleaned up her traces as best she could to not leave a trail. "Fenris?" Hawke called quietly from below him.
"A moment." He called back, edging to the stairs leading up. He took them slowly, letting his head rise above the barn floors. This was more often used, he could hear the sound of the cows, shuffling in their pens. Dusk was falling quickly, shadows lengthening through the open doors. He paused, straining his ears to catch voices.
He hard nothing except the creak of the steps below him. He spun and glared at Hawke's small form. "Venhedis, can you not wait?" He asked. She smiled, almost apologetically as Varania glided serenely behind her up the steps. There was a heaviness in Varania's features, a disappointment. She sighed as she looked around, wrapping her cloak a bit tighter around her form to ward off an imaginary chill.
"I knew they wouldn't be here, but I had still fooled myself into thinking I might see Sabina when I opened the door." She explained as his quizzical look. "Foolish."
"We'll find them." Hawke soothed, hooking her arm. "A mile south of here, you said? We can make that in no time."
"You should stop and rest." Varania said, shaking her head. "Let me look at your shoulder again."
"It's fine. I'm fine." Hawke declared breezily with her charming grin and a wink. "C'mon, I want to get out of Tevinter as soon as possible."
"She should rest." Varania turned her green eyes to him, crossing her arms over her chest pointedly.
"Hawke…" He said warningly.
"Well, we can't rest here. The farmers will be in to milk and feed these beauties for the evening." Hawke explained, her hand waving airily to the clouds. Something in their blank expressions caused her to laugh.
"Well, it's clear I should find someone else to help me when I purchase my own farm." She said idly.
"Fine, away from here, then we rest." Fenris agreed, inclining his head to the open door. Hawke darted forwards, poking her head outside. Varania shook her head in a weary sort of resignation.
"Where did you ever find her?" She asked, sounding honestly baffled.
"I tricked her into killing a gang of slavers." He admitted. "Then she just...stayed."
"Is that how courtship works in the south?" Varania asked, voice seemingly sincere. But there was a spark of wicked humor in those green eyes as she followed Hawke to the doors.
"You are just as beautiful as I am." A flash of that same humor and lips that smiled easily, clever hands holding something soft and beautiful, always something soft and beautiful. Worry, always so worried. Careless, she was so careless and…
"Fenris?" Hawke called again and her lurched forward as if on a hook.
"I am here." He answered, rubbing his temple softly. "Let us leave this place."
It was fully dark when they found the dilapidated shack, nearly due south from the barn they had emerged into. Fenris could hear the buzz of the night insects, a constant creeping song that vibrated in his head. Varania's pace picked up eagerly as they approached and Hawke reached out to grab the pack slung over her shoulder and prevent her from rushing headlong.
"I will go first." Fenris said, unsheathing his sword. "You may follow."
"What if there isn't enough room to swing a sword?" Hawke argued. "I should…"
"You are done taking point for seven months. At least." Fenris silenced her with a stern glare and stepped forward. There was no door, only an empty hole where once had stood. This had been a hunting lodge for a Magister, once, perhaps a decade or more ago. It seemed likely that the estate had been bankrupted or perhaps the hunting lodge sold and abandoned, forgotten. It was deep in a field of trees, large ones that a man could not get his arms the whole way around. And it was very, very quiet as he slipped into the shadows of the entrance hall. Yet again, the floors were too clean, devoid of footprints in the dust. He waited, listening, then turned right when he thought he heard the creak of a floorboard. There were stairs, still sturdy even though the railings had long since fallen away. Above them was a gallery lined with doors, and from the furthest one, a hint of the scent of smoke, a candle quickly snuffed. He moved forward, eyes steadily adjusting more and more to the darkness.
He saw the glint of the moonlight on daggers from a broken window and lashed out, not with his blade, but with his elbow. The rogue on his left fell even as he let the power light his lyrium markings. The effort caused him to grit his teeth at the pain and the light was much duller than usual, but it was enough to reveal Ivy on the ground, Hawke's staff blade at her throat.
"Thank the Maker." She sighed, sagging into the sodden, half rotted carpet. Then she glared. "Did you have to hit me so hard, grandpa?"
"Sabina." Varania interrupted quickly. Ivy pointed to the room at the end of the hall. "Told her we were playing hide and seek and shoved her in a...what do those nobles call it? An armoire?"
Hawke offered Ivy a hand to lift herself back up, sheathing her knives. Varania ran from their side to the end of the hallway, tripping into the room in a state of utter breathlessness. "Bina!" She called.
Fenris heard the armoire door burst open with a shattering sound and the girl's joyful shriek of "Mama!" There was a sound of stumbling in the darkness, then a flicker of light and a prickle of mana. Fenris, Hawke, and Ivy followed, emerging into a room lit warmly with floating, glowing orbs and Varania on her knees, her arms enfolding the small girl to her. And when Varania's shoulders started to shake, he turned away, embarrassed, and met Hawke's eyes.
He knew what Hawke was thinking without her saying a word, knew it in the challenge of the raised eyebrow and the tilted head. This, she was saying, is what you would have had us abandon in Tevinter for the safety of a child barely formed?
"Mama, Ivy taught me to make shadows. Watch!" Sabina demanded, struggling from her mother's grip. Varania quickly brushed her hand across her eyes, dispelling evidence of any loss of control as Sabina arranged her pudgy, child's hands in front of the candle. Hawke quickly stooped to light it and Varania's orbs vanished in a gentle sigh.
In the light of the candle, a shadow emerged. "See! A wolf!" Sabina cried in delight.
"Very good." Varania said softly, letting her hand linger on Sabina's curls. "Very, very good."
"Can we go home?" Sabina asked, almost forlorn, green eyes shining in the light. Hawke moved to set their packs down, then sunk to the floor herself, closing her eyes and resting her head against the wood. Lucia sank to her side with a huff, resting her head in Hawke's lap.
"No. No, dulce meum." Varania said brightly, taking the child's hands in hers. "We're going to go on a journey and find a new home."
"And nobody will take me away?" Sabina asked softly.
"Nobody will ever take you away from me." Varania said, a real smile blossoming on her lips. "There is nobody left to try, my love."
Sabina shot a look that was both confused and frightened towards him. Fenris stepped back to Hawke's side, sinking to his knees as Sabina looked to her mother. "With them?" She asked.
"Yes, I suppose so." Varania said, unable to keep herself from kissing the child's forehead. "Now, show me the other shadows you know."
