Our Ghosts Are The Same

Dragon Age 2

Chapter 9: Finding What Still Remains

A/N: Annnd we're back. There's quite a bit of fighting in this chapter, I'm glad to say. And to warn you, it's a very Aedan heavy chapter. I'll even it out as we go on, don't worry. As always, I love reading everyone's feedback so feel free to comment or ask questions!

The Champion was moving with a new purpose, her laughter dying out as she lead her ragtag team through Darktown and into the passage the thief had mentioned. Aedan wasn't sure of the significance this area underneath the Lowtown foundry had, but it meant something to the Champion. The dwarf, Varric, had stopped looking so sunny when the place was mentioned. Even the Champion's mood had soured and her sentences where short, to the point, and completely void of puns. And though Aedan knew her very little, even he knew that this was odd behavior for the mage.

"Do you know where we're going?" Aedan whispered to his squire, Edith. As a true Kirkwaller, she would know the town better than he.

"Where we shouldn't." Edith, Aedan had soon learned, was highly superstitious. He didn't mind it. Her fears didn't make her paranoid as they did some; they only made her careful. And he liked careful. "A blood mage lived down here." When Aedan didn't seem properly spooked by that, she added menacingly, "He killed women down here. Chopped them up. And then put them back together, but not always in the right order."

Well, that was not normal. Blood magic, Aedan had his own reasons as to why he wasn't that disapproving of that particular school of magic, but murder was in excusable. Always. He was glad that his time in Ferelden hadn't been enough to break him of that way of thinking. There were too many with his kind of power that thought nothing of the deaths of strangers.

"He's dead now." The Champion's voice came from the front of their line. There was something wrong about it, her tone. She seemed...off. "Very dead. Burned alive with his ashes scattered to the wind sort of dead. So there's nothing to worry about. Unless you're allergic to human ashes. Then try not to breathe too deeply."

Varric barked out a short, worried laugh. Good. Aedan was glad to see that he wasn't the only one to notice something wrong with the Champion.

It wasn't too long before the narrow, dark tunnels of Darktown opened up to a larger room, entered via a short stairway. From their vantage point, Aedan could see men moving around, some sitting, but all were surrounded by bags and crates filled with the Champion's gifts. The thieves seemed to be unaware of their presence. Pleased by their situation, Aedan turned to suggest to the Champion that they spring an ambush. A flash of blue raced past his face and he whirled around in time to see the Champion sprint by him and jump down in the middle of the thieves' nest.

Weaponless, the Champion straightened up to her full height and shouted to the thieves quickly surrounding her. "Which one of you assholes has my staff?!"

Though Aedan was irked that she had thrown away their chance of having the upper hand, he was pleased that the Champion at least gave the thieves a chance to answer her before she slammed her tiny fist into the ground, sending seismic waves in circles around her. The thieves fell back, giving Aedan time enough to shout some instructions to his squire.

"Edith! Leave as many as you can alive!" When she rolled her eyes Aedan grabbed her arm, giving her a light shake. "We are not the Law. These are not darkspawn. If you can spare a man, do it. But don't put yourself in harm's way. Understand?" They'd talk about the eye rolling later. Well, he would talk. She'd be running. Or doing push-ups. Or whatever grueling exercise he could come up with to fairly punish scoffing at the idea of sparing men.

"I understand," Edith replied quickly. "I just thought...I don't think the Champion shares your unique...tactics."

He wanted to ask her about that, but the thieves had recovered and were on the attack, throwing themselves at the Champion and her crew with a desperate fervor that shocked even Aedan. The Champion needed back up and soon. She was fending them off with the blade she had hidden up her skirts and with spells, but their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm her.

As Aedan leapt down into the fray, Varric called out to him, "I got you covered, Warden!"

Again with the Warden bit. He had a bloody name. Aedan took out his sword and dealt with the two thieves nearest to them, blocking their attacks and then swiftly disarming them. One of them stepped back while the other charged him, arms raised and screaming. Surprised that even a criminal would act so recklessly, Aedan let him get close, ducking the first swing before he took out the thief's knee with a kick. Aedan dropped him for good by driving the hilt of his sword into the back of the fallen man's head. He was still alive, but he wouldn't be causing anymore trouble.

Varric took care of the other man, giving Aedan a quick brake. He took this time to look around, try to see if he could spot the Champion's staff. As the Champion's lightning lit up the dark cavern, he found it.

One of the thieves, upon learning what the Champion was after, was grabbing the aforementioned staff and trying to escape with it. The Champion saw him, too, but she was too preoccupied to do anything about it. She was busy keeping herself from getting stabbed. "Champion, I'm on him!" Aedan yelled to her and she startled, almost getting slashed in the process. His voice was loud, even with the sounds of fighting and screaming. He was too used to having to shout orders to his wardens during battle.

The staff was getting away from him. Glad that he wasn't wearing his usual heavy armour, Aedan chased after the thief, following him into one of the shady side passages. Halfway into one of these narrow tunnels, another man might have felt out of his element. But Aedan had explored Deep Road caverns that were darker and filled with more frightening things than simple rogues.

The thief didn't count on Aedan being a warden, he had fully expected to have the advantage in the deepest parts of Darktown. He was waiting for Aedan in the shadows, thinking himself hidden, but Aedan's eyes were accustomed to low levels of light.

Using the staff as a weapon, the thief lunged at Aedan, forcing him to jump backwards. It wasn't far enough, however. The blunt end of the staff caught Aedan in the stomach, winding him. Now he was regretting his lack of armour, instead of praising it.

The staff was coming around for another strike. Aedan threw himself against one of the walls, using it to steady himself and catch his breath. Things would be much easier if he could have brought his damn shield to dinner. Right now Cartier was probably in the skirts of several well endowed servant girls, the bastard.

"Fuck!" The expletive slipped out, causing Aedan to curse again. And he had been doing so well, playing the part of the well mannered noble. The bad habits he had picked up on the road and during his current stint as a warden were taking over. At any rate, he had a bloody good reason for swearing. One of the thief's stabs had caught Aedan upside the head, tearing through his hair and causing blood to slowly drip down his temple.

Had he been wearing his bracers, Aedan would have been able to block the swing with an arm. Maker, he hated being unprepared. Well, he certainly wouldn't waste blood, especially not his own. Drinking it in, Aedan recovered his strength and waited for the staff's movements to slow down. Once he had an opening he was able to get a hold of the staff's end, yanking it away from the thief and successfully turning the tables.

This is a good weight, Aedan thought, testing out the staff with a few experimental stabs at the now unarmed thief. It was heavier than he expected, but he recalled that it had been made for the Champion's father, not the Champion herself.

Suddenly the thief raised his hands in surrender, a move that made Aedan pause and back up a few steps. The thief looked surprised that Aedan hadn't just speared him anyway. "You're not going to kill me?"

Aedan's brow knitted together. Something was wrong here. "You yielded. I'm not going to strike you down as if you hadn't."

"Who are you? Is Hawke picking up even more murdering freaks?" He laughed brokenly.

Aedan decided not to answer that, which was a smart move because he had no idea how to respond to it. "Get out of here," he barked, gesturing with the staff. He added on a hunch, "Preferably before the Champion catches up to us."

The thief turned and ran, disappearing down the dim tunnel and out of Aedan's sight. Waiting another moment to make sure the thief wouldn't come running back and catch him off guard, Aedan readjusted his grip on the staff and started back the way he came.

He was in no way a stranger to gore or violence, but the scene before him alarmed him regardless. The Champion, her dress ripped and torn and dripping dark bodily fluids, sat atop a crate, her legs dangling over the edge. The bodies of the thieves were scattered around her, all in various states of decay. All dead.

Quickly looking to his squire for an explanation Aedan found Edith would not meet his eyes.

"You got it?" The Champion dropped down from her perch and ran over to him. "My staff! Hand it over, hand it over!" she instructed, her hands reaching out to him.

Not a single one left alive, apart from the one I spared. His jaw set, Aedan was oblivious to the Champion's yammering. Slaying darkspawn was one matter, but this? He recalled his instructions to Edith and realized why she had rolled her eyes. She knew he was wasting his time. The Champion didn't leave survivors.

He felt a sharp tug and realized the Champion was trying to relieve him of her staff. He glanced down at his white knuckles and forced himself to relax, letting her tug her weapon free. He was angry, furious even, but his duty to Ferelden came first. He had accompanied the Champion on her wild goose chase in order to begin the task of recruiting her as a spy for Ferelden. That and he was deathly bored. Getting angry at her now would only ruin the progress he had already made by retrieving her father's staff.

"Aw, it has a scratch in it. Bastards." The Champion was scanning her staff for flaws with a frown on her face. "I guess it gives it character," she finally said, shrugging nonchalantly. She looked to Aedan. "You're wounded," she realized, eyes widening. "I have a healer nearby if you need-"

"I'll attend to it later," he answered quickly, self-consciously feeling the shallow rip in his hairline. As a reaver, a small bleeding wound like this was actually more of help than a hindrance. "Wardens learn to be good with a needle."

She seemed to accept that. "Then I guess I should thank you, Cousland."

"You should, Champion." Maker, he needed to relax. She'd noticed something was wrong soon. Attempting a joke, he added, "But not here. Somewhere else where its sunny and filled with less dead people."

"That combination is hard to find in Kirkwall. But, Cousland, I'll see what I can do. And," she said, leading them all back up to the surface, "stop with the 'Champion' bit. We've fought together now, you can use my name."

Varric and Edith were hanging back, stopping every so often to gather Varric's bolts from the corpses. Waste not, want not.

"I never caught your name," Aedan admitted with a shrug.

"Uh," she looked insulted. "It's Hawke."

Aedan found he could fake a grin more easily than he had thought. The unnecessary carnage just down the tunnel was still fresh in his mind. "I heard everyone refers to you by your surname, but I already know a Hawke. Your brother is "Hawke" to me. Can I use your first name?" He waited for her response.

"That is..." She paused, searching. "That's different, but I'm Marian. And you know Carver?"

"Ah." No, he didn't 'know' Carver. Aedan had talked to him briefly after the boy had his joining, though their conversation had been a short one. All he could remember was that Carver was a bit of a git, but he'd probably grow out of it. Or at least he would if Aedan had any say about it. And as his commander he definitely did. "I know of him. And Marian? That is incredibly Ferelden." When she scowled he added quickly, "Don't look so peeved with me. I never called you 'farm boy'."

What? She formed the question silently with her lips before realization sparked in her eyes. "Oh, Maker, that hill giant was you? I never would have...I didn't mean..." Her excuses were so fleeting and desperate that Aedan's smile became more natural in his amusement. "It wasn't an insult. I was a farm girl, once. Well, I never really farmed. I more of got in the way of the people doing the actual farming. But you understand my meaning."

"It's of no matter, Hawkling."

She stopped dead in the street causing Aedan to bump into her. "What did you call me?"

He didn't immediately reply. They were out of Darktown and back into the somewhat familiar streets of Lowtown. At any rate Edith would be able to guide them back. While he waited for his squire to catch up, Aedan turned to back Hawke. "To me, you're the 'little' Hawke. Hence, the Hawkling." Aedan motioned for Edith to come to his side. She trotted away from the dwarf, thanking him for his assistance during the fight once more.

Hawke was staring at Aedan as if he had suddenly appeared from across the Veil and she was trying to figure out what kind of demon he was. "Hawkling?" she repeated as her friend Varric chuckled, obviously approving of the nickname.

He grinned. "Now what fun would it be if I called you what everyone else called you?" Bowing to her, he started towards Hightown with Edith. "Goodnight, Champion." It took all of his willpower to not look back to catch another glimpse of her dumbstruck expression.

"I'm the little Hawke?!"

Varric knew this was coming. Hawke was ranting, gesturing wildly with her newly reunited staff. "I'm the eldest! There's no way I could ever be considered the 'little' Hawke. Granted, I'll give him that Carver is taller, and heavier, and has that gloomy cloud of doom hanging over his head but I'm getting my own statue! Does the Hero of Ferelden have a statue? Uh, let me think...NO."

"It's a statue that looks nothing like you," Varric reminded her.

"It's still a damn statue. And if you vandalize it, Varric, I swear to the Maker I will go out of my way to make every mission we go on boring and mundane. What did Hawke do today, Varric? Oh, you know, she got some shoe shopping done and rescued a kitten."

"Pssh. As if I need actual events to inspire me," Varric joked and Hawke only smirked in return.

"Oh, I know you do. What else would you need me for?" Her smile faded a bit. "Um, did you see how Ser I-saved-the-entire-world-so-I-think-I'm-hot-shit looked at me back there? It was like he's never seen dead bodies before." Raising her hands up in frustration, she continued, "And it's not like I had a choice. One of those guys back there tried to claw my bloody eyes out."

He shrugged. "You know how nobles and their sense of honor are. How many did you get anyway?"

"Only seven. That little squire of his was surprisingly quick."

"Seven? That would almost be impressive if I hadn't nailed nine of the bastards to the wall. Literally."

Aedan needed to learn more about Hawke, that was certain. How many mercenaries just like her had he faced down in Ferelden? She was a champion in name, but that was it. She wouldn't be laying down her life for her city any time soon. Her defeat of the Arishok had probably been to her own advantage. Aedan sighed. He shouldn't speculate without more information. He was just still pissed at her for her stunt back in Darktown.

His long legs carried him up to Hightown, to familiar ground. Edith had adopted a neat little jog in order to keep up with him. Warden Sienna was waiting outside the Comte's mansion for her commander, Aedan was pleased to discover. That saved him the trouble of having to go find her. Wait, who was he kidding? It saved Edith the damn trouble; he would have handed off that chore to his squire in a heartbeat.

Over all Sienna seemed fine, a little dirty and tired, but unwounded. "How did your search go?" Aedan inquired, crossing his arms in front of his chest and giving her a serious look to let her know he expected an equally serious report.

She seemed happy enough to jump in, not bothering to censor her expletives as Aedan had come to expect from her. "It was bollocks. We didn't find shit and the whole time those guards were looking at me like I was going to set them all aflame at any minute." She sighed dreamily. "Oh, I've missed that look. Wardens aren't quite so gullible as templars and normal people. I used to mutter nursery rhymes in Arcanum around the new templars just to watch 'em soil their armor. Good times," she said, cracking her neck to one side. "Did you find anything other than disappointment?"

"Marian Hawke resembles a mercenary more than a champion," he revealed to her with a tight frown. "I've yet to determine if that is for the good or ill of this mission."

"Mission?" Sienna echoed needlessly. "We attended the banquet. I thought that was the end of it." When Aedan didn't say any more she added questioningly, "Sir?"

He spoke again, but didn't address her questions. "Is Cartier here?"

"Not yet."

"Do your cool down stretches before bed. Tomorrow morning I'm heading to the Chantry." Sienna grimaced. "Don't worry. You're staying here. And before you celebrate you should that you'll be tasked with guarding the Comtessa and her daughters while they shop."

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Aedan thought about reprimanding her, but decided it probably wasn't worth it. Sienna was always going to be foul mouthed. Instead he brushed past her while she saluted him.

As he and Edith walked inside, he asked her, "Squire, if I wanted to know more about the Champion and her motivations, from a perspective that doesn't idolize her, where would I go?"

He gave her a moment to consider before he prompted her again. "Knight-Commander Meredith. She was with the Champion when the Qunari attacked. That and she gave Hawke her title."

Then it seemed his day was made. The Chantry and then the Circle. Two of my favorite places, he thought sarcastically. After instructing Edith to make sure she stretched and cooled down after the fight, he went inside his own room to do the same. He checked his head in one of the Comte's wall mirrors. It wasn't a deep gash, but he cleaned it and applied a healing ointment to the wound regardless. He even went as far to take a couple of swallows of healing draught for good measure. Once that was through he moved to the floor to stretch out his aching limbs. His ankles were bothering him more than usual. Grimacing, Aedan removed his boots and studied the scarred flesh, reminders of his not so nice first visit to Fort Drakon.

His stretching was interrupted when the Comte's butler handed him a letter from Vigil's Keep. He half expected it to be from Nathaniel Howe, stating that he didn't need to bother coming back, that the Keep was fine without him. As a result, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the letter contained a detailed progress report and a personal letter from Nathaniel. Aedan skimmed over the letter's contents, allowing himself a small smile when he read that the warden's were inquiring when he was returning. Not because Nathaniel was found lacking as a commander, they simply wanted to know.

Nathaniel also mentioned that Ohgren was very insulted that Aedan didn't ask him to be Warden-Commander over the Howe. He was so hurt, in fact, that Nathaniel wrote that he told Ohgren that Aedan needed him urgently in Kirkwall. Nathaniel finally added that the dwarf should be arriving roughly around the same time as the letter.

Aedan sat down on the edge of his mattress and dropped his head into his hands.