Our Ghosts Are The Same

Dragon Age 2

Chapter 11: Pure Bloods and Mongrels

A/N: This is a shorter chapter but with work and all I figured I'd better get something down quick before I get swamped again.

Aedan was less than pleased to see Marian Hawke, snarky and seemingly carefree Champion of Kirkwall, parade over a hill and right into his team's current position. Especially considering the incredible amount of carnage that was surrounding the lot of them. Things could easily escalate if the situation wasn't properly explained or if rash suppositions were made. In fact, Aedan did not think his predicament could get any worse until he saw who one of the dwarves at Hawke's side were.

As the Champion and her group quickly approached Aedan sputtered, "Ohgren?" Aedan's cold eyes swung from the dwarf in question and stared into the Champion's own. "What are you doing with Ohgren?"

She seemed even more surprised at his presence than he was of hers. "What are you doing with a baby?"

"Hello, Commander!" Ohgren triumphantly waved at Aedan as if he had planned their chance meeting from the beginning. "Thought I'd find you here."

Aedan wasn't the only one skeptic of the truth of that remark. Cartier said with a single raised brow, "You thought we'd be in the middle of Kirkwall's mountain range?"

Ohgren grinned at that. "No, knowing Cousland I figured you'd be surrounded by dead darkspawn. And it seems I was right." He smirked haughtily at his commander who simply rolled his eyes.

"Yes, but that hardly explains why you're with the Champion," Aedan searched for an answer in Marian but she had some questions of her own.

She seemed less cheerful now, wearing a stern glare Aedan had never seen from her before now. "You're burning bodies. We could smell it a mile from here." She added, her eyes narrowing. "I was at Lothering when it fell. I know the scent."

Aedan responded too quickly and a little too forcefully, "Do you recall the scent of darkspawn? Because that's what happened here. We're simply the clean up crew and bearer of bad news. Sienna," he barked to the mage behind him. "Report."

"Some fucking darkspawn came and...uh," Sienna began before she suddenly flushed and then restarted. "I mean, a medium sized group of slavers and their, uh, cargo," she winced, "were stashed in an opening in the mountain. Their only exit was seemingly blocked by darkspawn who stormed their cavern and slaughtered all they could reach. Only a few elves survived in their cages, but they were tainted beyond help when we reached them."

Cartier, Edith, and even Aedan stared at her for a long time. Cartier muttered in mock awe, "I didn't know you knew that many words, aside from 'fuck', 'damn' and what had become my personal favorite 'nug-shit on a cracker'."

Irked at their ridiculous behavior, Aedan turned his attention back to Hawke, where it belonged. "They weren't people anymore. We gave them mercy," he explained slowly and with no amount of pleasure.

She didn't argue. Instead she looked at the babe in his arms and asked quietly, "Are you going to provide that same mercy for the child?"

Unconsciously, his arms tightened around the squirming bundle. "It takes, generally, seven days for the taint to corrupt a normal man. As of now the child appears to be unaffected." He didn't want to state in words what would have to be done if that changed.

"I see." Hawke didn't seemed appeased, but she only asked one more question. "Was there no other way?"

"No." There was no hesitation now, where years ago, when he was warden recruit fresh from the Joining, his answer might have been very different. Maker, this wasn't how he wanted to meet her next. What he had wanted was to sit down with Hawke over a pint and delicately and tactfully tell her about the King's proposition. Having her see him in a situation where his morality was in question was not beneficial in any way to his cause.

Hawke didn't stay long after that. There wasn't much for her to do. Most everyone was already halfway to ash.

Ohgren thanked her for the drinks, which made Aedan cringed. Hopefully Ohgren hadn't started talking while Hawke was buying him drinks. There was a lot about him that Aedan didn't need Hawke knowing. Like the first time Morrigan had shape-shifted into a spider in front of him and he had tripped over himself in his haste to run away. That was not an anecdote he wanted Ohgren sharing with everyone.

And, really, asking someone if they'd still be attracted to you if you were a giant spider and then transforming into said eight-legged creature from the Void is just not okay.

Edith stepped up next to him, side-eying the dwarf with obvious disdain. "How do you plan on telling the Comtessa you're bringing an elven child into her home?"

Oh, damn it all. "Very carefully."

"Well, that was disappointing." Hawke kicked at sand with her boots in a lame attempt to amuse herself. "At least we know it wasn't Danarius," she told Fenris and shrugged.

He didn't share her half-assed enthusiasm. "That doesn't make any of them any less dead," he pointed out dryly. He then looked as if he was afraid he had offended but Hawke simply shrugged again.

"No, no, that's true." This time she kicked at a rock and sent it flying down the sandy dune below them. "Too bad we weren't a bit quicker. I could have had an elven baby." Her gaze darkened and she said words meant only for herself and not for Fenris to ever hear. "There went my only real chance."

But of course he heard.

"Milord, we should inform the Comtessa of our new...guest," Edith finished uncertainly. Aedan just waved her away, his attention focused on the small body sitting on one of his pillows.

"Later. I'll tell her later. Oh, and Cartier, can you go down to the kitchens and get something for the tyke to eat? I know I worded that as a request but it was really wasn't." As Cartier rolled his eyes and stomped downstairs, the child started rolling around on his stomach and Aedan had to keep him from falling off the large bed. "Slow down, pup," he laughed while scooping him up in his arms.

Edith remained where she was, watching her superior for a bit before speaking her mind. "Milord, the Comtess will find out. If he cries-"

"You won't cry, will you, pup?" As Aedan said that Cartier returned with a plate of cold meats and fruit. The child saw it and whined, his tiny arms reaching for the plate and pushing against Aedan's chest.

The commander frowned. "You little shit," he said in the most caring way possible.

Ohgren of all people had a solution. "He just needs a little nip of whiskey, is all."

"You keep that dwarven swill away from him." Aedan stood, handed the babe off to Edith. "And, no, before you ask, Ohgren, we're not naming him after you." Straightening his shoulders, Aedan left to speak with the Comte and Comtessa. And also to find a nursemaid for the babe. And later to find a name for the babe.

At least he'd be busy.

The Comte wasn't pleased with the new arrangement, but he obviously couldn't figure out a polite way to decline because he allowed it. One of the elven servants had a sister who was a nanny and so Aedan sent Edith and Cartier down to Lowtown to hire her and bring her back. Sienna amused the child with small, probably not dangerous, glowing orbs that bounced off the walls and ceiling.

Ohgren was helping him pick out a name.

"We are not naming him Darkspawn Bait."

"Half-pint?"

"No."

"Ohgren, Junior?"

"I've said 'no' to that twelve times."

"Pointy?"

"That's racist. Why am I even letting you help again?"

Sienna hummed as she summoned another orb. "I think Carlin would be nice."

Aedan threw up his hands. "If it gets Ohgren to stop talking, Carlin it is."

"Ohgren, Junior-"

"I've said 'no' thirteen times!"

Moira bounded ahead of him, only stopping every so often to sniff something or someone interesting. Most of the shop vendors in Hightown seemed wary of his pet, running unleashed around the marketplace, but Aedan paid them no heed. He could always play the noble card and start listing off titles until they stopped complaining. Or his favorite, the "I didn't kill the Arch-demon to put up with this shit". He admittedly used that one too often.

Moira had been cooped up in the Comte's home, growing fat on the servant's treats. It was time for a little exercise. For both of them, Aedan had to admit, patting his own abdomen. This rich, Orleasian food would be the death of him. Though the food was too rich for his tastes, Carlin was loving it. He was probably back at the Comte's place being fed by his new nursemaid right now.

His pure-blood mabari hound charged her way around one of the tall, stone corners of Hightown, causing Aedan to lose sight of her for a moment. He quickened his pace, knowing Edith and Ohgren who were trailing behind him would do the same. He rounded the corner, searched for his dog and-

He screamed. It was so completely out of character but dammit if it wasn't also completely called for. He prided himself in being level headed, if one was to command anyone they had to be. But that was his Maker-damned baby girl out in that street being-being harassed by some backwater mongrel.

"GET YOUR DAMN MUTT OFF OF MY GIRL!"

Hawke skidded to a halt and then stumbled forward as Merrill fell into her from behind. Damn, if Merrill would stop skipping everywhere this wouldn't happen every time Hawke had to make a stop. Well, maybe Hawke had been skipping, too, but that was hardly the point.

Regardless, Hawke had slowed down after hearing what had to be the loudest bastard she'd ever heard call her dog a 'mutt'. Now, granted she didn't know for certain that Rebel was pure-blood mabari (honestly, if was very unlikely), his outburst was still very uncalled for.

Or maybe it wasn't, she decided once she saw what the man was undoubtedly seeing.

"Oh." Merrill whispered. She repeated, "Oh. I'm not sure if your dog realizes he's in public."

"I think he knows, Daisy," Varric chuckled. "He's a smart dog, but that still isn't stopping him."

"Aw, Rebel. Like I don't have enough trouble without you rutting in the middle of Hightown, probably with some noble's prissy lap-dog." Well, actually the dog Rebel was, uh, romancing was awful big for one of the Kirkwall noble's pets. Kirkwallers usually had prettied upped dogs who were bred for their small size. A Ferelden owner would make much more sense for the beast under her pet beast.

Varric nudged her and indicated a certain direction with a tilt of his head. "Uh oh. Here comes your dog's girlfriend's daddy." Merrill and now Sebastian looked where Varric had nodded to.

"Cousland?" Hawke couldn't stop the laughs that came out along with his name. From his seething glare he did not find the situation as humorous as she did.

"Call off your damn mongrel," he hissed and Hawke realized that, no, he did not find this funny at all.

She obeyed, but that didn't mean this was over. "Rebel," Hawke whistled shrilly and her dog came to her side, albeit reluctantly.

"If your dog's in heat," Aedan continued as he inspected his own hound, "keep him on a bloody leash."

"Whoa," Hawke protested, frowning. "That little rendezvous was not one-sided. I hate to say it but if anyone's in heat it's your dog. Not mine."

"Not possible," he said without a moment's consideration. "Moira's been bred to ignore such base thoughts while guarding her master."

"So it couldn't possibly be your fault," she surmised, her mood darkening to match his. Sebastian laid a cautious hand on her arm. "And what are you even still doing here? The banquet ended days ago."

He pulled at the cuff of one of his sleeves. "I have further business in Kirkwall."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

Hawke growled, ready to retort before Varric caught both of their attention by sighing dramatically and saying in a resigned tone, "Here we go." He then pulled out a small leather bound journal used for keeping notes. "Now, if you two say anything really memorable make sure you enunciate your words so I can catch it all. Or if you start kissing you'll both need to turn a bit so I can get a better angle. For the good of my audience, people," he added when Hawke and Aedan both stared at him.

The Warden was completely bewildered. "Was that supposed to make any damn sense?"

"Not to you," Hawke shrugged, unapologetic. "And we're not going to kiss, Varric, so put your pen away."

"Then you two have to fight."

Hawke watched as Aedan glared down at his own dwarven companion, the look on his face saying 'what are you trying to do?' "Ohgren, what in the void is in your flask today?"

Ohgren rolled his eyes. "It's obvious," he said as if they were the slow ones. "If you ain't gonna fuck, you gotta fight. You humans mess around with all those other emotions too sodding much. There's two activities worth pursuing in life and that's it."

"Fucking and fighting?" Hawke grinned, taking a guess.

Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Life may be that simple for you, Ohgren, but the rest of us make it out to be a bit more complex than that."

"Yeah, and how much fun is that?" Ohgren asked with a snort. "Besides, everyone knows that you have a thing for dark haired apostates."

"Everyone doesn't know that," Varric hummed, jotting something down in his journal. Aedan moved closer to him to try to get a peek at his scribbled writing.

"What? What are you writing down? I-Maker, dwarf, am I not looking at Hawke as if she's my long lost love born again-where are you even getting all of this nonsense?!"

"Ignore him. He always does that," Hawke advised him, completely unconcerned. "If you won't answer my first question, why are you in Hightown?"

Aedan didn't appear appeased. "I was visiting the Chantry."

Sebastian brightened and nodded pleasantly to the Warden. "I saw you there the other morning."

"Ugh, you went there twice?"

Aedan shrugged noncommittally. "People notice if I don't. Don't your people care if you go?"

She chuckled at that. It was a surprisingly bitter sound. "I'm an apostate. Why would I go? And I do visit there occasionally. Mostly to flirt with Sebastian but if getting Sebastian to realize his true place in life isn't the Maker's work than I don't know what is. And in case I wasn't clear before, Sebastian's place is in my pants."

Sebastian quickly released her arm while Merrill giggled. "Hawke!"

Aedan couldn't help but snort and then say words he would later come to regret. "I can see where your hound gets it from."

"And we're back to that," Varric sighed. "There's unnecessary drama wherever you go, Hawke. It's wonderful."

Hawke's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared unattractively. "Okay, that's it. We're going with Ohgren's life philosophy. I'm going to kick your ass, Warden."

A/N: Carlin means 'small champion' in Gaelic.