Choppy waves crashed against the cargo ship as the group loaded onto the vessel. An obscure dock faded among many, loading animals and cargo to take to Nevarra. Alanna and Leliana coordinated with the captain and hired hands to move the travel party's horses and items. A few minor mishaps, caused directly by a miscommunication between Alistair and Nathaniel, delayed the group's disembarking, but all challenges quickly cleared thanks to Leliana's problem-solving.
The Wardens wore cloaks to hide their colors, and everyone in the party wore hoods to maintain their anonymity. They would have looked suspicious if the rest of the port wasn't already filled with citizens in similar attire.
With Leliana at her side, Alanna stood on the pier, watching the crew preparing to leave. Updates from Leliana kept her informed of the status of their leaving, the success of Lelaina and Alanna's mission, and their plans to return to Skyhold, which Alanna continued to stall.
Gratitude for Hale's safe departure balanced with annoyance that Hale had ignored Alanna all morning. Familial love and concern lost on her vitriolic relative, any attempts Alanna made at fleeting conversation met a wall. She eventually retired efforts as she watched them take the final steps to leaving.
The group she had aided milled from the gangplank into the belly of the ship. The ineloquent man, the King of Ferelden approached her first. She braced herself for his unneeded thanks. At Skyhold she had deciphered that his over-concern with his wife's whereabouts exceeded his concern with the wellbeing of Thedas; he let his wife walk all over him.
"Your help is much appreciated, Inquisitor." He pressed his lips together and bowed his head.
"It was the least I could do." Reticent with her goodwill, Alanna nodded. Stern face but soft voice, she added, "Those who survived Erimond's blood magic served the Inquisition. Their well-being is our concern, but the Wardens are secretive. There is only so much I can do."
"Let's just hope we can find them. If we can, we should have enough Wardens among us that they will accept our help." A weak smile crossed his lips.
"Yes," Alanna answered, crossing her arms over her chest. A tiny grin pulled at her lips as she glanced toward the Champion, the only person among them who hadn't served the Wardens. Alanna had noticed he had been in a much better mood than in his time with the Inquisition. She looked back to Alistair. "I hope Garrett Hawke's presence doesn't cause you too much trouble."
Alistair's brow creased for a moment. "Or Fiona's."
"Of course." Alanna forced a polite smile. Not wishing to assume common knowledge of Fiona's prior life as a Grey Warden
The King responded with a confused blink, but let the awkward moment passed. After reiterating thanks, he made his way into the ship's lower compartments. Alanna exhaled, sighing at her error. The conversation she had with Fiona at Skyhold, her questions about the King- the secrets of her history were not Alanna's to reveal.
As if she could read Alanna's mind, the former Grand Enchanter walked up to her. "I hope all is well, Inquisitor." Fiona's eye were narrowed, concerned, questioning.
"Whatever secrets you keep from him are not mine to tell," Alanna lowered her head in respect. She glanced up to Fiona. "But I suspect he has questions about you."
"Thank you," Fiona replied, then sighed and looked toward the boat. "Thank you for everything."
Alanna nodded, witnessing pain behind Fiona's eyes, but unable to find better words to help. She Fiona's hands in hers and squeezed, a silent commitment of camaraderie. "Let me know if there is any other way I can help."
Fiona squeezed back and gave a timid bow. She walked away, helping the other woman, the Warden mage, carry something onto the ship.
The Champion of Kirkwall came up to Alanna next. A frown pulled his lips; black hair messy and beard unkempt, he looked like he had already been at sea for three days and not slept in an inn for the night. Alanna's brow wrinkle, concerned. The weight of his decisions at Kirkwall had haunted him in the Fade.
She opened her mouth to talk, but before she could reply, Hawke's frown changed to a mischievous grin. "Maker watch over you, Alanna. Thank you." With no other explanation, he walked the gangplank into the ship. Alanna shook her head as she watched him walk away.
"Oy," an unexpected voice called Alanna to turn around. Hale frowned with displeasure standing beside to the Warden Commander. He wore a formal smile, his posture proper. It made up for Hale's poor attitude.
"Inquisitor," Nathaniel spoke with a polite nod, "thank you again for your help. I hope to have answers soon, for everyone's sake."
"Arani, I am happy to help." She gave a friendly smile then looked at Hale. "Please be safe, my cousin."
Hale's loud eye roll responded to Alanna's request.
Eyes fixed on Hale, Alanna made a disappointed exhale. "Mar sal'shiral mithel din mala, Panelan'banalla. Mar shiral din'eth la'var shia i'tel mar'lethal." ("Your life is closer to death now, Grey Warden [lit. Darkspawn Fighter]. Your path is unclear as long as you travel without your kind.")
Hale scoffed and Alanna sighed, tired of trying to talk reason to Hale. Culture and tradition strengthened the Lavellan clan. The hope that Hale matured enough to appreciate the sense of belonging the clan could offer never left Alanna. She refused to give up.
But Hale clenched her teeth, stewing as she glared at Alanna.
With a gentle sigh, Alanna murmured, "Asa'var'len-"
"Fuck, Alanna. Diana... etunash!" (Stop... shit!) Hale barked back, then growled with frustration. She lifted her hands to keep Alanna away. Nathaniel stood beside her, confused eyebrows bunching. With a deep breath, Hale's eyes darted to Nathaniel and back to Alanna; she continued, "Harth' em. Ar unv'na vhenas! Nathaniel nuven'in saoto. Is ma'lethal, ma'vhenan." (Listen to me. I found my home. Nathaniel wishes to marry. He is my home, my heart.) Clipped words from Hale's Denerim accent seeped through her elvhen, but the message was clear. When she finished, Hale gestured her hand toward her chest, glowering.
"Ahn?" (What?) Alanna's eyes widened. Teary, she glanced from Hale to Nathaniel. Her mouth opened. "Min vindhru?" (Is this true?)
Hale made an exaggerated exhale and rolled her eyes. "You heard me. So enough of this shite about me going back." She tugged at Nathaniel's arm to follow her to the ship. "We gotta go."
The Warden Commander's face wrinkled in confusion; he looked from Alanna to Hale walking away. Shrugging to Alanna, he sighed. "Take care, Inquisitor."
"And you, lethallin. Dareth shiral." Alanna bowed, watching him follow her cousin into the depth of the cargo vessel.
Conflicting emotions swirled; Alanna's heart filled with joy, lighting up with happiness for her vagabond cousin, but shadows of disappointed undermined the happiness. Hale had found a human partner; she would not contribute elven children to the Lavellan clan and she would not return home. Though unsurprised by the outcome, Hale finding love and choosing to marry baffled Alanna. She gave a heavy-hearted sigh, the defeated weight of the loss of her cousin magnified.
The final members of the crew took their final checks on the ship, untie the boat, and pull in the gangplank before the boat drifted off. When it was out of sight, Alanna left with Leliana to travel back to Skyhold.
The voyage, if anyone could call it that, lasted only two days. The cramped boat Hawke had taken to Kirkwall had been far worse, filled with other refugees, all fleeing the Blight-corrupted Ferelden. That day long boat ride had turned into two weeks at sea. An excess of people, inconvenient weather patterns, and crowded waterways hindered the boat's passage.
This time, Corypheus second defeat had lifted fears of Thedesians, allowing for a faster journey from Jader to Cumberland. Even the short trip did not save the group from grumbling the entire way- in particular, the Warden Commander and the King of Ferelden. Opposing personalities led to repeated conflict, and their plans for the journey only seemed to differ more when they spoke. By the time they reached their destination, they had split into separate corners of the hold.
Hawke found his own entertainment by watching them. The smaller tiffs between Nathaniel Howe and his lady made their laughing, light-hearted conversations turn vicious in a split second. Whatever the Fiona woman was hiding influenced her reserved demeanor. She spoke softly to everyone, clasping her hands, minimizing her already petite size, and her eyes reliably darted to Alistair at least once an hour, no matter the topic or counterpart of her discussion. The other mage woman, haughty and proper, was almost too easy to rile. It didn't stop Hawke from instigating trivial arguments with her.
The sea voyage ended at colorful Cumberland. The massive city stretched on for ages. Districts appointed to cultures and ranks changed every few blocks along with the architecture. Lavish guarded buildings indicated the highest tier of the region's societies, not allowing any non-natives to enter. It all built up to the College of Magi, elaborately decorated with gold. Hawke noticed Fiona keeping her head down, tugging at the hood of her cloak to shield her face as they passed the building.
The market set aside for shopping and dining reflected the rest of the city. Even the smallest vendors carried the finest cuisine, and the number of merchants made the shopping district well stocked. It was easy to forget the portside of town once immersed in the city.
Refilling their supplies took little effort, and their supply of gold was intact with the thanks of a donation to the Wardens from the Inquisition, a last memento Alanna had delivered to the ship after they thanked her for her help. They finally retired to private rooms with the softest beds Hawke had ever slept in at the inn they occupied that night. He found it amusing the Commander and the King had coordinated to have rooms on opposite ends of the hall.
No one was inclined to leaving the next morning, but the group did. Five days had passed, and memories of the beautiful city with its decadent food and drink still lingered on the back of Hawke's mind. His mouth watered each time he reminisced.
But as much as his heart, and stomach, and body yearned for the comforts of Cumberland, the trek continued, as well as the tempers of certain group members.
The Imperial Highway marked the way of their journey north. Another symbol of Thedas' history dating back to the control of Tevinter Imperium, the well-founded road connected the nations. Flat and barren land replaced the rocky terrain the further north they rode.
The pending desert and predicted perils of the Silent Plains required a detour to Nevarra City, adding three days to their trip. They traded their Fereldan winter garb for crafted gear to breathe and see through the dust and dirt. Finer weapons and potions would aid battles against the region's rumored wyverns and ghouls.
The King's frustration with the delay was visible, but when given the choice to divert their path and continue North, or change directions completely and travel through Orlais, he begrudgingly chose the former when the group continued North.
Afternoon light created long shadows as they walked their horses. The creatures needed a break from a day of hard riding. Walking with the young archer, Hawke suspected she was avoiding her beau while Nathaniel talked to Philippa about their plans for the Anderfels. Hale had kept her conversations with Nathaniel minimal since Jader and exerted surprising effort to connect with her other party members.
Hawke didn't mind; Hale's company promised a distraction from the stressors of the quest, particularly the haunting fear the Warden disaster related back to Corypheus, not completely dead, yet again. He had kept this concern quiet since he joined the party, certain if the Elder One was involved, Hawke needed to bring him down.
Hawke explained his experience with the Wardens when he helped the Inquisition to Hale. The silhouette of red-headed elf danced as she lifted her arms in exclamation. "The fuck do you mean? We faced the same shite in the Wilds as Alanna's Inquisition wankers. Who's she not to trust us?"
"I didn't either," Hawke admitted, recalling his visit to the Fade after the battle at Adamant. "The Orlesian Wardens were corrupted by Corypheus. We had no way to know you all hadn't been deceived by him too."
"'Cept that we weren't toting sodding demons on our backs. Not crying about that false fuckin' Calling." She growled, frustrated with the subject.
Hawke glanced her way, taken aback by her conviction. Her bright green eyes met his. Red lips chapped from the dry climate curved up to a grin. She added, "Thought you were a sick arsehole who liked things corrupted."
An involuntary laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "Now that's a completely different kind of corruption."
Her eyebrows lifted, and her grin remained, anticipating a more detailed response. Oils on her face shined in the light. The yellows and golds of the arid land complemented her olive skin, hues of which had deepened since they began their adventure. Her messy dark red hair fell to one side of her face.
He waved a lone finger at her, warning her of his lewdness. "I'll save the particulars from your precious little ears."
"Piss off," she laughed, giving him a playful scowl. "Don't wanna imagine yer hairy arse ploughing anyone anyway."
She kept laughing, amused with herself and Hawke watched, appreciating her humor on his behalf. He recognized a fire in the woman, unquenchable like whatever burned within Isabela- wherever she was, out at sea. Someday Hale's insults to her peers and enemies would become pet names; those lanky steps would develop a more consistent and confident strut, Hawke had no doubt.
He smirked, inhaling to come back with some clever, witty comment he was sure would develop as he spoke.
But a man's deliberate cough interrupted them. "Hale," Nathaniel Howe walked his horse closer to her, lifting his head in inquiry, "could I have a word?"
Nodding, Hale slowed so she could walk with Nathaniel between their horses. As he walked ahead, Hawke glanced back to notice she gave a last glance in his direction.
Her gaze didn't linger and neither did his. He transferred his attention to the sorceress. "So, Philippa, how old are you?"
The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes, but Hawke continued their conversation, moving to questions about her experience with entropic magic. Philippa's chin lifted and her chest puffed with pride. She explained subtle elements of channeling the Fade to negate energy, drawing from the target as opposed contributing force. In the midst of the nearly decent conversation, Hawke caught ear of a growing quiet quarrel between the young woman and her Commander. What's this? Hawke glanced over his shoulder.
Nathaniel extended a hand toward Hale, pulling her attention back to him from wherever hers had wandered. "You still haven't told me what you said to Alanna. I heard my name."
"Nothing important." Hale sighed and patted the neck of her horse. She rolled her eyes to Nate. "I was getting her off my case about coming home. Same as always."
"It looked important." The Commander's forehead lifted in doubt; he reached for her hand again. "You don't have to lie to me."
"Come on, mate." She snorted, laughing off the tender sentiment while pulling her hand closer to herself. "I'd tell you if it mattered. But it don't." She squinted and her eyes drifted forward to Hawke.
Imperative to seem as if he was minding his own business, he returned his eyes to the path ahead, interjecting an unneeded and affirming reply to Philippa. "Why, yes, of course, I love Miasma smell."
"I said spell, not smell, you fool." Shaking her head, Philippa continued lecturing about the unique methods of channeling spells for this school of magic.
Hoping for a successful decoy with his false conversation with Philippa, his ears keened to hear the couple again. Try as he might to resist, his curiosity about the confusing couple only grew the more he got to know them. He mumbled short replies to Philippa and his eyes darted back to the duo.
A disappointed frown tugged at Nathaniel's lips. He took a deep breath. "Hale…"
Alistair's loud voice caught everyone's attention."You know this really isn't any of our business." The King walked his horse a short distance beside them, slightly removed from the group. He had kept to himself most of the day, not unlike other periods of their travel. Now he spoke loud enough for even Hawke and Philippa to hear."Most couples would save this discussion for times when they had more… any privacy."
Laughing with annoyance, Nathaniel turned his head to face Alistair. His voice remained calm, collected even though disdain coated his words. "You're right… this isn't any of your business, your Majesty. So kindly, stay out of it."
The sarcastic smile that spread on Alistair's face neared malevolence. "Oh but if I could," his lip raised, "But it seems if we're not all listening to you nag at each other, we have to listen to you two... you know, all night."
Nathaniel stopped walking and lifted his hand to his chest in shock. Straight-faced, he spoke with a flat tone. "Goodness. Please, forgive me. I'd suggest you find something else to listen to rather than our conversations or our lovemaking. But thank you, now that I know the latter bothers you so much, I'll make sure we're louder next time."
The rest of the group slowed, the women kept their eyes averted from the growing dispute. With no shame, Hawke took the opportunity to watch with complete attention. He noticed the specific choice of words from the Commander. Love making, is it?
"Shite, Nate. Shut it." Blushing, Hale smacked Nathaniel's arm with the back of her hand. The young woman's eyes darted to Philippa for help. "Don't need this arsehole."
Interesting change of pace, Hawke noted. The reserved Warden Commander incited the anger of the King, proclaiming whatever filthy things even Hawke had heard Nathaniel doing with Hale as lovemaking. In contradiction, the brash woman who had claimed apathy for who heard ordered him to back down. Snide remarks between the King and Commander had escalated the further North they traveled. It seemed to have reached a breaking point.
Philippa shook her head at Hale and walked around her horse to Fiona, starting a distracted conversation. Both women kept to themselves, ignoring Nathaniel and Alistair's argument, and leaving Hale to fend for herself.
A small step took Hawke closer to the argument. "Come on, gentlemen." He spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest.
Alistair ignored him. The King's forehead wrinkled, he pointed at Hale then to Nathaniel. "You should listen to the young lady, Nathaniel Howe. Maybe that would help a few of your issues."
"Your Majesty," Nathaniel's smirk grew and he arched an eyebrow, "as much as I do not appreciate it, I believe you are the last person to give anyone relationship advice."
The King laughed wryly. "Right, because you're such a beacon of honor, aren't you?" He shifted his jaw, the sarcastic grin melting to a frown. "I'm honestly surprised your little archer is still around... Doesn't she know you prefer them married?"
There it is. The final pieces fit together. Hawke had noticed their tension since the palace and this revealed the source- a broken code between men, not that Hawke believed in that sort of thing. But some did, and the more he witnessed of these particular men's interactions, the more clear it became.
"Whoa, boys." Passing the reins of his horse to Philippa, Hawke stepped closer to the argument, arms out to separate Nathaniel and Alistair.
The Warden Commander gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring, facing the King who wore a smug frown.
Hawke continued, "We know you both fucked the Queen and none of us care… unless either of you would like to divulge any lurid details. Then, maybe I'd care a little."
Brows creasing, Alistair's mouth gaped open and his cheeks turned red; questioning eyes narrowed, darting to Hawke, then Philippa and Fiona. He stood frozen in place, unwilling or unable to break the silence.
Hawke lifted his hands impatiently. "If you're really going to bicker about it for the entire trip, maybe you could do it elsewhere," he pointed off into the distance, "because you're standing on the perfect place to camp."
Looking at their feet, Alistair and Nathaniel's eyes scanned the ground around them. Reluctantly and bewildered, they walked with their horses a few paces in separate directions, clearing the space where Hawke indicated setting camp. Neither man looked back to resume the conflict.
Annoyed steps took Hawke into the clearing, joining Hale to put up their tents. The young woman wore a wide, entertained grin, stifling giggles as she secured her horse and unloaded her pack. Hawke took her smile as an incentive to continue, he mumbled, "Really… if this feud doesn't end in them snogging, I will be severely disappointed."
Dropping her bag, Hale made a choking sound. She covered her mouth and watering eyes followed Nathaniel before meeting Hawke's gaze. Her body shook, withholding raucous laughter.
Grinning, Hawke knelt to the ground to unload his pack of its camping contents. The other women joined them, quietly practicing the repetitive motions of building their resting place, this time at the edge of the Silent Plains. In two days time, they would reach Tevinter. Hawke couldn't help his intermittent glances to the young archer, noticing her wiping laughter-induced tears from her cheeks.
***Writer's Note: Thank you all again for the kind words. It's honestly a relief to get the messages. I was so scared this fic was flopping lol. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you care to leave a comment, I am most grateful. Happy Holidays!**