The Blower's Daughter (Part One - Victoria)

Lucía was sitting astride him; her chin resting on her arms, her arms resting on his chest. She was gazing at him. Anders's lips had a soft smile as he slipped his fingers through her hair and then softly moved them down her back. She squirmed and smiled.

"It's getting late… or early; I'm not sure," he murmured a while later, groping for the clock.

"What time does the plane leave?" Lucía asked, drawing circles on his side with her fingernails.

"I have to be there at 7, so that gives us… 3 hours. Will it be enough for you to sleep well?"

"Sleep?" she murmured, kissing down his chest. "You'll be gone for months. I can take the day off, and you can sleep on the plane, can't you…" She nibbled on his navel and slid a hand between his thighs, stroking him slowly. He whimpered softly as she wriggled down and disappeared under the sheets.


She was sound asleep.

There was a certain peace to her cuddling against him. Her mouth was relaxed; her eyelids were still, her breathing was slow and even… He watched her for minutes on end, trying to remember her that way – quiet and warm. He wanted to caress her back and take the texture of her skin away with him engraved on his fingertips. Her hair smelled of jasmines. It made him smile. He kissed her forehead and looked up; counting the seconds in every breath she took, wondering what she was dreaming about.


Lothering – the year 930 of the Dark Age

She saw her father bash the face of the last Darkspawn standing with the end of his staff. He panted heavily. He wasn't young anymore. He'd turned to her. "Is your mother fine?"

Victoria nodded and looked around. In the distance she saw Bethany, holding Leandra's hand, making sure that nothing would happen to her. The couple that had joined them was having trouble. The man had been injured, and Malcolm had told the woman that she should stay close to him for as long as she could.

Carver's jaw seemed to harden when he passed by Victoria. "You're supposed to stay behind," he grunted.

"You'd have been caught," Victoria protested, cleaning the blade of her dagger on her breeches.

"Learn your place," her brother muttered. "The archer stays put, just like in the army."

"Don't quarrel," Malcolm boomed. Victoria and Carver glanced at each other and then looked away. "We need to be on the alert. If we don't work together, we're lost. Victoria: no more daring rescues, is that clear?" She nodded reluctantly. "Carver: it's not might but control that will win the battle. We don't know how many more we'll find." Carver grunted but nodded. Malcolm opened his arms and Leandra took refuge in them. "Are you all right, my love?" he asked her. She nodded, visibly shaken. "Let's keep moving, then."

Victoria fell behind and walked beside the couple. "How is he?" she asked Aveline. The red-haired warrior looked at her husband. His face looked too pale to feel confident.

"He's been somewhat sick for days," Aveline said. "I hope we can get a healer soon."

"Don't worry about me, love. I'll endure." Ser Wesley's voice sounded calm, but it betrayed how much pain he was in. "I will not die today."

"Victoria!" Bethany shouted. "We need you here!"

Victoria Hawke nodded and ran after her family. Through the corner of her eye she saw Aveline getting her sword and shield ready. As she walked to her father, the ground beneath her felt as if it was about to give way, and then they spotted it. The largest Darkspawn they had ever seen. Bethany screamed and the monster took notice of her. Carver ran towards her to shield her from the creature's grasp. Victoria shot three arrows in a row, one of which got stuck inside the monster's braces. The Darkspawn's attention switched to Victoria, who was running backwards, aiming at the monster's neck. She heard gurgling and screeching behind her and turned around to find a swarm of Darkspawn climbing up her way. The monster bent down and rammed against her, but it never got to her. Malcolm's ice spells hit him on the legs, freezing them, and Carver took the chance to hack at them, making the monster roar.

Knowing that her brother and father would be able to handle the enormous creature, she ran towards the group of Darkspawn behind her.

"Victoria! No!" Leandra screamed.

Her mother's intention had not been for her father to lose concentration, but he had. The monster reached out and snatched Malcolm by the waist.

"FATHER!"


Anders felt something wet falling on his chest. Tears. Lucía was crying. He cupped her face with his left hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb. She still wouldn't wake up. It didn't look like a nightmare. Her face was still peaceful; only the tears betrayed her. Anders kissed her cheeks softly. Nothing. He squeezed her body against his. She barely moved. He recognized the state. She was Dreaming. He stared at the ceiling as he kept holding her body against his own. What have I done to you, he sighed.


Kirkwall – the year 932 of the Dark Age

"No, you can't take her," Victoria hissed.
"She belongs in the Circle of Magi, Hawke," Knight-Captain Cullen said.
Bethany stood in front of her sister. "Please, don't make things worse. Mother needs you, now that Carver's not here with us anymore. I… I will be fine."
"Beth…"
"Take care of her, will you?" Bethany's eyes pleaded. "She needs you."

Leandra's sobbing made Victoria feel uncomfortable, but it was her eyes that affected her the most. Accusatory. Malcolm's death had somehow been her fault. Carver's death had definitely been her fault. Mother had begged her not to take Carver to the Expedition, but she hadn't listened. Carver would have hated her for the rest of his life.

She hadn't listened…

The sound of Fenris's voice saying "Him or me" came back to her. She clenched her teeth.

He'd pay for his pettiness. She would have her revenge. One way or another.

"Did you notice how Fenris looks at you?" Isabela smirked, pouring some whiskey on her glass. Victoria raised her eyes and took a quick look at the warrior. He choked on his wine and looked away. Victoria smiled. "So? When are you going to give in to those incredible eyes, that sensual tanned skin, those firm legs…?"
"Hmm? What do you say? Should I give it a shot?" Victoria murmured, playing with the rim of her glass.
"Please tell me you're talking about shooting Fenris," Anders said, coming closer to the table and sitting next to Victoria, taking the glass of whiskey from her.
"That's wasted on you, Anders," Isabela said, taking it back and leaving it in front of Hawke. Anders snorted and reached out to take it again. His fingers found Victoria's, and there was a sparkle between them.


Anders couldn't sleep. She had left him physically exhausted, but his mind was sharper than ever. He could take her with him. No. She'd never leave her family behind. He could ask her to fly and meet him during the weekends. That was a possibility. But what if she regretted this the morning after? What if she decided they'd moved too fast?

What if she was…?

Anders gazed at her. With his thumb, he stroked her cheek gently. If you were pregnant, he thought… Oh, what a mess that would be. They weren't ready for a child. They'd barely started something. And he wanted her for himself.

He wanted her for himself.

Anders pressed her even closer to his body. Leto had had his chance. Each time, he'd decided to walk away. He kissed her forehead and held her hand over his chest.

He wouldn't give her up – not ever again; not to anyone.


Kirkwall – the year 933 of the Dark Age

She'd helped him, every step of the way. And he'd come to her – docile in her arms. And now he was telling her that it had hurt, that he couldn't take it anymore. Never again.

Victoria knew that it was exactly what she was waiting for.

"Have you finished?" she interrupted him, getting dressed. "Anders is waiting for me."
"Anders?" Fenris's voice sounded confused.
"I'm supposed to meet him to help him with something," she said, matter-of-factly. "I trust you'll come with me, then?"
"
I won't help that… Abomination," Fenris spat.
Victoria shrugged. "Whatever suits you, Fenris. I don't need you anymore. I really don't." She left the room, leaving him behind.

Anders had been waiting for her at the entrance of the sewers. As soon as he saw her coming towards him, he gave her with one of his increasingly elusive smiles, which froze as soon as he saw Fenris trailing behind her.

"What is he doing here?" he muttered to her nervously.
"Calm down. He's just a sword." She caressed his cheek and Anders looked at her in surprise. She could feel that behind her, Fenris was muttering one of his Tevinter curse words.

She thought she hadn't been ready for Justice. For a moment, she thought that Anders was going to kill the girl. But then she'd seen him. She'd seen his eyes. Anders was still there, and when she realized this, her heart beat faster. For him.

Oh, she'd been so blind, so focused on trying to sleep with Fenris and breaking his heart that she hadn't seen that Anders already had feelings for her. Always willing to help; always comforting her, healing her first, making her laugh, supporting her in everything she did…

One day she entered the clinic. After all that time… He was still waiting for a cat to come to visit him. He smiled at her. His smile was warm and friendly. He was polite, so polite… She almost wished he wasn't so kind.

She teased him and his smiled stayed on. So did the pain in his eyes.

"You know what I am. You've seen what I can do. You can't tease me and expect me to resist forever," he said.
"How long will it be till I drive you mad?" she purred.

She hadn't been ready for his kiss. Hot, moist, desperate. Loving? No. Lustful? Perhaps.

He'd come to her that night. Between kisses and love-making, he'd shared the story of his life, and she'd felt her heart warming up to him.

When the morning came, it had been decided.

"Are you sure? You would shelter an apostate in your home?"
"My father was an apostate. My sister was one for a long time. You're fighting for people like them. I can't be less. You're putting yourself at risk – losing yourself to Justice or to the Templars. I won't allow it." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he placed his arms around her.
"I have nothing to give you, except for myself. And I'm not sure that's enough."
"I don't need a savior. I don't need you here. But I want you here."
"That's all I need to know," he said, kissing her in front of the fireplace. After a while, she nuzzled him.
"And I'll make sure to get a cat for you," she smiled.


"Serp'nce-a-lot," Lucía mumbled.

Anders looked at her and shifted to take a better look at her. "What did you say?"

"Cat," Lucía mumbled, still asleep. "For you."

Anders squinted and after a while, he seemed to understand. But... Was it even possible...?

He held her face in his hands and moved his lips close to her ear, trembling.

He whispered, "Victoria?"

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Title: a lovely song by Damien Rice. "No love, no glory / no hero in her sky. / I can't take my eyes off you."