Our Ghosts Are The Same
Dragon Age 2
Chapter 28: Mending
A/N: I really need to wrap this up. I'm starting to forget things. It took me five minutes to figure out the name of Aedan's squire and I still don't recall why I had thought she was relevant to the story at the time?
When Hawke awoke she found she couldn't breathe. It felt like something was sitting on her chest, and for a moment she thought maybe it was her damn mabari, but she could see nothing there. She sat up too quickly, her back and neck protesting the sudden movement. Something cold and pale touched her. Hawke scrambled backwards, hitting cold stone with much more force than she had meant. There was a throbbing knot forming on the back of her head but it knocked her back into her senses. She was breathing again, not anywhere near normally but it was a start.
Someone appeared next to her and Hawke was startled to find two large green eyes staring at her. It took her a few blinks to register that it was only Merrill before the elf threw her arms around her. Hawke managed to choke out, "I'm fine, Merrill. We escaped."
"I know," the elf babbled. "I just had to make sure it was, well, that it was really you."
"It's me," Hawke assured her, though she freely admitted, "Which is exactly what a demon would say but..." She trailed off, looking about the room. "Where's Varric?"
"He went to the main hall to help," Merrill explained. "You've been out for a few hours and things, well, they haven't gone particularly well."
Hawke rushed to reassure her. "I'm here now. That demon isn't leeching off the warden anymore. We can find it and kill it. Summon it if we have to, but I think it'll make an appearance on it's own."
"Brother, please." There was an audible struggle and Hawke cringed, realizing what was happening. Aedan was awake, too, which had been exactly what she had intended upon going into the fade but she had certainly imagined it under different circumstances. Circumstances where she hadn't done something incredibly shitty in order to get him out.
"What in the Maker's name were you bloody thinking?" She could see him struggling to get out of bed while Fergus held him down.
Hawke immediately went on the defensive. "I had to distract you so I could-"
After managing to sit up on his own while pushing away any of Fergus's attempts to help him, Aedan gave her a cold glare that could easily rival any Ferelden winter. "I wasn't talking about your infantile attempt at a... How did you word it? Distraction." He was steaming, which was new. Normally when Aedan was pissed he turned cold and distant, but this anger here was red hot. "I was referring to your cowardice." The rest of his statement trailed off into a fit of coughing.
"Whatever you're about to say, brother," Fergus warned him as he smacked Aedan on the back a few times. "You're probably going to regret it."
"I won't." Though he paused, Aedan continued on, staring Hawke down. "We could have taken that demon down on our own. We could have saved a lot of people a world of hurt if we—you-would have stepped up and faced it back there. How could you-"
"That's easy for you to say," she spat back, suddenly fuming. Hawke stood against Merrill's protests and wobbled a second. When she regained her footing she continued venomously, "If you would have died back there you would have woken up, safe and sound back in your royal bed chamber. But not me! No, I would have woken up tranquil."
Aedan quieted at that. He uncharacteristically avoided her gaze, one hand subconsciously rubbing at the bandaging on his leg. When he finally he spoke it was very quiet and tired. "My apologies, Marian."
"Oh, yeah, same to you, blueblood," she shot back and then blanched in confusion. "Wait, that wasn't what I thought you were going to say." How long had he been calling her Marian? Why didn't she notice things?
Aedan waved a hand dismissively. He tapped his leg pointedly. "It's broken, isn't it?"
"Quite badly," his brother chimed in. He nodded to Hawke and Merrill both. "I think, if you have this under control, that, ah, Merrill and I should return to the fighting."
"What?" Hawke shook her head. "I'm coming with."
"No. You were running yourself ragged before you went into the fade. I can't imagine how you're managing to stay on two feet after all that."
"It's mostly out of bitterness and spite," Hawke shrugged.
"Stay here with Aedan," Fergus said and before she could complain, added, "And don't make me use my "teryn" voice."
"Guess there's no arguing with you then."
"Then I'll argue with you," Aedan demanded crossly. "First of all, why isn't my damn leg already healed? This should have been done the second I fell under. If you expect me to lie here while you-"
Fergus cut him off with what Hawke suspected was the infamous "teryn" voice. "I don't expect you to do anything. You have a broken leg and I'm taking your only healer."
Aedan seemed bewildered at being so outplayed so efficiently. And by his own brother. Hawke waited for him to say something, anything, but he only sat there, gaping like a fish.
"It's for your own good, brother. You're in no shape to help and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep you out of the fight otherwise. The leg stays broken until I finish this. Now, let's go help the others, Lady Merrill," Fergus beckoned to her and Hawke watched the two leave and was left very impressed. And she was slightly offended when she heard the door lock. Fergus was locking them in? Where was the trust she had worked so hard to gain?
"Maker's fucking balls."
When she whirled around Hawke found Aedan had somehow managed to slip out of bed unnoticed. He was leaning against a wall, sweat beading on his forehead, and being very careful to keep any weight off his bad leg. "It's, ah, more broken than I thought."
"Didn't you hear what your brother said?" She jabbed a finger towards his bed. "Get back in there! Don't make me tuck you in."
"Oh, the horror," he mocked, turning pale. But Aedan limped back to the bed, sitting on the edge and wincing.
Hawke scoured the room before presenting Aedan with a few, partially stale biscuits and her waterskin. "Eat. And Drink."
"Fine." That was at least one thing she didn't have to persuade him on. "I heard you tell your friend that you thought the guilt demon would make an physical appearance. Any guesses where that might be?"
She had one guess. One correct guess. "Hate to break this to you, but I think that demon's going to try to get you back. And he'll want to be somewhere where you'll be emotionally vulnerable."
"The cellar?" She was surprised at how quickly he guessed that. She really wanted to lord that information over him, at least for a little while.
"Yes, the cellar. It has, uh, a not good feel to it," she admitted.
"Eloquently put as always," Aedan rolled his eyes and Hawke wondered why she had kissed him. Oh, that's right. It was so she could stab him. "Now," Aedan continued, "what can you do about this leg?"
He didn't want her help; he just didn't know it yet. Hawke helped him swing his broken leg back into bed. He cursed her in a surprising number of languages. In between curses Aedan asked, "Is there nothing you can do about this?"
She backed away quickly. "Oh, you don't want that. I'm no Anders."
"I know that. Can you heal at all?"
"A broken leg? I struggle with paper cuts and you want me to fix a broken leg?"
If he was being completely honest with himself, no, Aedan didn't want Marian within twenty feet of his broken leg. However, the alternative was being stuck in bed while his brother and his entire household fought a demon that he was responsible for waking up.
Aedan sighed, very afraid to ask what he was about to ask. "I want a simple yes or no answer, Marian. Can you do something about this damn leg so that I can do something about the damn demons infesting my home?"
"I—uh-"
"Yes or no, Marian."
The Champion turned pink again with either indignation or something else. "Yes. Yes, I can do something about your damn leg but it's going to hurt like a surfacer's first taste of dwarven ale."
"Spare me the similes." He knew he would regret this. And Hawke gave him more evidence to back that theory.
"I can fix it. It won't be pleasant and I don't think I can get it to heal perfectly straight. You might end up with a limp." She gestured unhelpfully with her hands. "You'll probably be able to feel when a storms-a-coming."
"Seems worth it." He leaned his head back on the straw pillow and shut his eyes. "Do your worst."
"I will probably do my worst."
"Do you remember which leg-"
"The right one?"
"Well, you had a fifty percent chance."
She shouldn't do this. She'd hurt more than she'd help and even though Cousland was talking a good game, he knew that as well. Though, now that she was considering it...
No, Fergus was right. Neither of them were in any shape to be fighting anything, let alone a demon that had been handing their asses to them up until this point.
"What's taking so long?"
"This situation calls for a delicate hand. So if you squirm too much this delicate hand is going to smack you around. Got it?" Hawke rolled up a hand towel and handed it to Aedan. "You're going to want to bite down on something."
"Might want to save the foreplay for after we kill the demon," Aedan suggested and then watched as Hawke stuttered and turned red. Redder. "Forget what I just said. I'm only trying to make you more comfortable by talking like you do. I am very nervous about what you're about to do to my leg."
"You should be," she told him and gladly stuffed the towel between his teeth. "Be prepared to curse your ancestors and mine. I'd start with my Uncle Gamlen. He's a right bastard."
Hawke laid hands on him, her fingers tingling with magic and uncertainty. In a pinch she could mend scrapes, bruises, and maybe even a deep paper cut if she was feeling particularly brave. Something as difficult as a broken bone, though? It was going to be mostly trial and error. Painful, trial and error.
The bone moved, desperately trying to realign itself. Aedan screamed.
Aedan had never missed Anders more until this moment. Sure, the mage had a smart mouth and he really wasn't all that great at push ups, but the man could heal. He'd numb the pain first and then work on the wound itself. A healing from Anders was like taking a quick bath in warm salt water. With Hawke there was no numbing. The pain was there, constant and sharp and worse with each move she made. Hawke felt like fire and oh, so much blood.
He had known it would hurt. He'd been hurt before. Dragonfire was the worst thing he'd ever experienced and this day was beginning to look like a close second.
His throat was too dry to shout anymore. Aedan started whispering curses. To which Hawke applied in rushed apologies and reassurances that weren't so reassuring.
It was excruciating. Until suddenly it wasn't.
How he had managed to stay awake after all that, when a smarter man would have fainted, Hawke refused to guess. He'd definitely walk with a limp and that didn't sit right with her. At all. Aedan Cousland was not someone who limped into a room, dammit.
"Good thing your brother overlooked this when he trapped us in here." Aedan's breathing was unsteady and too deep. Wishing to give herself any excuse to look away, Hawke turned and fetched the family sword for him. "I kept it warm for you," she quipped. "And polished. Okay, I did neither of those things but I did not lose it. So that's something."
"I'm, ah, going to try and put some weight on this," Aedan ignored her, waving the sword away. "Don't let me fall."
"Oh, I'm sure that'd just send all that arrogant confidence of yours straight down the drain." She chanced a peak at him. Ah, there was that not so amused frown.
"Save that sort of talk for when you can mend a leg without causing more pain than being nearly burned alive by a high dragon."
That was oddly specific. "Hey, I told you I can't heal. But if you want shit set on fire, I have that covered. I can set this whole castle on fire and now that I've said that I realize that is probably not what you want."
Aedan started testing his leg, gingerly letting his foot touch the ground. He put a little more weight on it and winced. "Lend me your staff."
"Woah, I don't let just anybody touch my staff."
He ignored the obvious euphemism. "The first day I met you it was stolen by a man who lives in a sewer."
Wordlessly, Hawke handed her staff over to him. She knew when she was beat. "Thank you," he returned, now using her staff as a sort of makeshift walking stick. "I'll need you to hold my sword."
"I want to make a joke out of that but you make it too easy. It would be beneath me."
"That's surprisingly mature of you." He headed for the door, grabbing onto her shoulder when he stumbled. "You're going to have to help me down the stairs. And kick down the door. I'm still weak from being confined in bed for—how long was I out again?"
"Fergus told me not to tell you. Says you have a weird thing about sleeping in."
It was an understatement, really, and Aedan clearly decided to let it go for now. More to end her never ending attempts at banter, attempts at stalling the inevitable, Aedan stepped past her and gestured towards the exit. "The cellar. Now."
It was slow going. There were more stairs than Aedan remembered. Steeper, as well. Hawke kept glancing back at him, leading the way on her two good legs. She was watching his face, gauging his reaction to the ruined state of his family's castle. She needn't have worried. The destruction and chaos was all too familiar. It wasn't any easier the second time around. Especially if he thought at all about the fact that this demon had leeched all this power from him.
There were sounds of fighting in the main hall. They kept walking, the hairs on the back of his neck rising the closer they got to the cellar. Aedan rubbed absentmindedly at his neck and, sweet Maker, had no one bothered to cut his hair? A quick inspection informed him that shaving him was apparently out of the question as well. He suddenly regretted passing off his squire to his brother. Edith would never have allowed this.
"I know this is usually your line," Hawke began, her arms hugging her sides as they stepped outside. The cellar was just around the next corner. "But, what's our plan? Do we just charge in there? Kill whatever we find? That's not really a plan, though. That's just my average Tuesday."
"I'm going to need you to take lead on this. I confess I don't quite feel well." Honestly, it could have simply been the consequences of being bedridden for so long, though Aedan feared the worst. If he fell under this demon's control for a second time...
"Hey." Hawke's breath was clouding the air and her hand was tightly clasping his own. "You have to admit that you're a screw up. Sometimes," she added quickly, reading his reaction.
"Are you trying to help or are you just fucking with me?" he snarled, pulling his hand free. Or attempting to. Hawke held on like a warhound.
"Take some free advice from Kirkwall's biggest fuckup. You can be the greatest tactical genius in the world and Thedas is still going to take a shit on you." Her hand squeezed a bit tighter; she moved in a little closer. "I have killed everything that's ever gotten in my way and it didn't help my mother or sister or my father. And I can't make up for what was done to my family. You can't make up for what was done to yours. So fuck this guy for reminding us of that." She released him and headed straight for the kitchen. "Let's kill this asshole and then get really drunk at the victory celebration and then do a bunch of stuff we're both going to pretend to regret."
He laughed quietly. "That's the most depressing outlook on life that I've ever heard."
"You clearly haven't spoken much with Carver then."
By the time they had reached the cellar door, Aedan's leg had stretched out enough to walk successfully on his own. He held on to her staff, still needing some sort of crutch. On the other hand, Hawke had his blade strapped across her back. It forced her to walk a little hunched over. How Aedan thought he was going to be able to swing that thing around after he'd been out of commission for weeks, she had no idea.
The kitchen was empty, save for the remnants of a few dinners left to rot. The smell caused her nose to crinkle. She looked over to Aedan and saw his eyes were watering.
The cellar door was shut, bolted, and nailed shut. Peeling away the boards one by one was tedious and unwanted work. They did not speak to each other as filthy nails dug underneath the wooden planks nailed across the doorway. The wind had changed. No longer did they do their witty back and forth. At this point their banter was done only to retain some semblance of normalcy and courage.
The two of them were exhausted. Beaten. And while they both knew they needed back up, they also knew that this demon would only face them alone. They were, quite honestly, bait.
This was a bad plan. And Aedan was going along with it. He wasn't known for bad plans, not like her. One didn't kill an Arch-demon with plan B.
Oh, her friends were going to kill her for this if this demon didn't.
Hawke had grown disturbingly quiet. It was this realization that told Aedan they were well and truly fucked. He felt ill and dizzy and malnourished. Considering he was only alive thanks to Hawke's blood magic, her own blood fueling the spell at times, she had to be feeling similar. Perhaps worse, as she had also had to lead the Cousland forces while he was asleep. Her nails were bitten down to stubs. And her hair...never mind, that was actually normal for her.
"I realize we are almost inside, but I feel one of us should say it out loud. We should get backup. Both of us are weak and some of us, myself, wounded." Aedan stared past Hawke and at the door. There was one final piece of wood blocking the cellar door. "The odds of us surviving this aren't exactly in our favor."
"As uneducated as my peasant mind is, that thought has already occurred to me." Hawke bit at her thumbnail. At what was left of it. "I think more people will scare this demon into not showing. And any sane person would listen to what we are doing and then strap us back into bed permanently. And leave us there. And feed us very soft foods. And-"
"I understood what you were getting at three unnecessary sentences ago."
The final board was pried free.
They weren't ready.
The room was small and cold and reeked of decay. Aedan could hear insects scurrying, though he saw none himself. There shouldn't have been bugs; the first frost should have killed them off.
Like a true Ferelden, at that moment all he wanted more than anything was his dog. Moira had been at his side through everything. Everything.
He heard Hawke unsheathe his sword. Her hands dipped underneath the weight, but she took a surprisingly correct two-handed stance as she stood at his side. Her weapon was still propping him up, the blade pointing towards the ceiling. Where was it?
His uneven breaths fogged his vision; it was so damn cold. Hawke was moving further into the room, kicking aside abandoned crates in her search. As Aedan took a few steps after her, the door slammed shut behind them. He startled and lurched to the side, avoiding the shot of lightning Hawke had sent upon reflex towards the door.
"Settle down," he seethed, unsure why he was whispering. Steadying himself, Aedan wielded her staff as a pike. He was about to suggest a switch when Hawke swung her blade in the air in front of her, bouncing the blade off the nearest stone wall. She had just missed the hovering demon by a hair.
"It's here!" she shouted unnecessarily.
Aedan merely nodded and lunged forward with her bladed staff. There wasn't nearly enough room to wield it normally. He nearly made contact until the demon spun around and somehow ended up behind him. He felt the temperature drop suddenly and he dove to the floor, anticipating at the last second the shot of ice sent his way.
The demon's missing on purpose, Aedan thought. It was the only explanation to how he had dodged the blast in his current condition. Somehow he doubted Hawke would receive the same treatment.
A purple wave of magic shielded him as he painfully struggled to his feet. Damn his leg. "He has us trapped," Hawke shouted, side-stepping over to him. Her eyes didn't leave the hooded demon. "We need to draw him out. Somewhere with a little more breathing room." Easier said than done as the demon was now blocking the door they had used to enter.
There was another way. But they weren't even remotely dressed for the cold. If they used his family's secret escape tunnel...if they weren't dead before they made it outside the castle...well, the Ferelden winter would quickly take care of that.
He must have blinked or perhaps even blacked out for a few seconds because Hawke had screamed and he had no idea why. The demon was gone...no, it was changed.
There was a stout, tanned man Aedan had never seen before. Dark beard, darker shaggy hair and wicked eyes that were all too familiar.
Oh, this was different.
"That's your father," Aedan said as Hawke said, "That's my father."
This demon was using new tricks. Hawke's father looked angry, his mouth twisting into a sneer. It wasn't a look a Hawke should have.
Hawke knew what her father was going to say before he actually did. You should have given up everything to save me. I would have protected your mother, the family. Done what you could not and blah blah blah.
She knew what the demon would say because it was exactly what she had been thinking. Of course, the demon added more adjectives than she would. Not to mention it was with a much more educated vocabulary than she possessed.
But why would this guilt demon take the form of her father? If it was Cousland it was after. Unless... Ah, the demon wanted her out of the way. Dead. Gone. Perhaps it thought she'd be hesitant to attack something that looked like dear, old dead dad.
Aedan pinched her arm. " Steady now. Keep the shield up."
"Shield's still up, isn't it?" she snapped. She didn't look away from the startling image of her father. Hawke knew it was just a copy of her father pulled from her somewhat foggy memory, but she wanted to soak it all in. She hadn't seen her father in years and to be frank she had been beginning to forget what he looked like.
Realizing Hawke's listening skills weren't where the demon had been hoping they'd be, the fake Malcolm revealed an identical staff to his child's and used it to send ice and frost spraying their way. The purple shield buckled, but held.
Aedan scrambled to his feet and started feeling along the back wall. "We're moving. Keep the shield steady for a few minutes longer and be prepared to run after me."
"We're retreating?" Had Aedan already been possessed? Seemed unlikely, but what other reasoning could there be for the uncharacteristic nonsense coming out of his mouth.
"Advancing to the rear."
Now he was just playing with words. "And you're going to run?" He did not listen to her one genuine piece of medical advice. No running on a recently broken leg. That wasn't much to ask.
She had more questions, so many more questions which were all answered as a secret panel fell through and revealed a narrow, dark tunnel.
Hawke made a face. "You blue-bloods are weird."
"Without this I'd be dead." With that Aedan ducked down and entered the tunnel. Hawke backed away into the tunnel, keeping the shield up as she stumbled backwards.
"We can't leave the castle; we'll freeze to death!" Hawke's anxiety rose and the shield thinned, her mana already so drained from her struggle to keep Aedan alive those past weeks. The flying shards of ice ceased and were replaced with arrows that pinged off her shield. One slipped through and Aedan shouted in surprise. So it was between freezing to death or being murdered by a demon.
"Arrows now?" he asked, still limping on ahead. Damn, how long was this secret tunnel? They had to be close.
"The demon has changed again," Hawke snapped back, her concentration failing. Another arrow flew past but Aedan didn't yell so she was going to assume it had missed. An auburn haired woman chased after them, expertly sending arrows flying their way at a rather terrifying pace.
"Who is it?" Aedan's slow to ask.
"Don't know." One of the arrows nicked her shoulder and she hissed. "Hey," Hawke thought, scrutinizing the demon again. "Was your mother ginger, too?"
"Maker damn this demon!"
Before Hawke could properly respond, she slammed heavily into Aedan's back. He had stopped, fumbling with the tunnel's exit. Hawke stumbled, falling to the ground while the shield fell with her. Another arrow pierced her, lodging itself into the upper part of her arm. Aedan's mama was a damn good shot.
She wasn't down for long. She was dragged out of the tunnel and into a deep bank of wet snow. Aedan stepped over her to slam the entrance back shut. It was a rather futile effort.
Eleanor Cousland, the infamous Seawolf, broke through the door in less than a minute and stepped into the snowy clearing. Aedan had met multiple queens and still his mother was the most regal woman he ever saw. At least, to Aedan's eye that was what happened. Marian Hawke saw her father, hulking and tall and with his wry grin replaced with more disappointment than she'd ever even seen in her mother.
They weren't ready.