Chapter FIFTY-NINE
"Where is Aveline?" Seneschal Brann demanded, storming into the guard-captain's office bright and early that morning. "And is that... Is that a baby?" he squeaked when he saw Tristan clambering around in the makeshift playpen Aria had erected in a corner of the office.
Tristan had a stuffed dragon in one hand, a half-drank bottle in the other, and he stood next to the small fence-like structure that was his playpen, staring at Brann. His dark green, crystalline eyes regarded the Seneschal with innocent curiosity. The toddler cooed, confused when Brann ignored him.
It was Aria's first day of twenty serving as the guard-captain fill-in. Donnic and Aveline had left the afternoon before on a ship bound for Highever. Aria had written to her friends Teyrn Cousland and King Alistair a couple weeks prior to that and received their responses just days before Aveline and Donnic's departure. Aveline had talked to the council, of which Seneschal Brann was markedly not part, and it was unanimously agreed that Hawke was an acceptable stand-in for Aveline's vacation. They were going to be wined, dined, songed, and swooned with the best Ferelden had to offer. A certain revolutionary mage friend had informed Aria that some research led to a male virility potion's concoction—and it had been bestowed upon one Ser Donnic Hendyr. Aria was excited for them. Aria hoped against hope that Aveline would conceive during or shortly after her vacation and then she would stop trying to run every little aspect of Hawke's life. Aria wasn't, however, excited about dealing with Seneschal Brann. Truth be told, she worried that she'd kill him before Aveline returned to the helm. If he said anything about Fenris or Tristan... She'd gut him where he stood and have his head stuffed and mounted for a trophy above her fireplace. She'd probably throw darts at it. This thought brought a smile to her face as she responded to the Seneschal.
"What, that?" she asked, brandishing a dagger and pointing it in the direction of her son. Aria sat at Aveline's desk and was going through the prior evening's reports. Aveline had made out a guard schedule and patrol route rotation before she had handed the reins over to Aria. All Aria had to do was make sure the city didn't tear itself apart. Normal day, really.
"Yes, that!" the Seneschal squeaked, storming the rest of the way up to the massive desk.
"Oh, no. It's a rare hairless Mabari. Better watch out—he'll slobber on you," Aria replied with mock seriousness.
"The barracks are no place for a child, Serah Hawke! Do you take everything in this city for a joke? Couldn't you have gotten your elf to watch him while you play at one of the most important positions in the city?"
Aria stood slowly, her gaze leveled on the self-important worm before her. "it must really irk you that for all your lickspittle asskissing, you're still a lowly receptionist while an elf-loving, doglord refugee upstart has somehow gained more stature. Tell me, Brann, have you ever been to a dragon's hoard?" she asked him, her voice low, cold, and venomous.
"What has that got to do with anything?" Brann sniffed, taking an uncomfortable step backwards while struggling to maintain his inflated sense of dignity.
"The only thing dragons guard more jealously than gold are their young," Aria continued in that same chilly tone, moving slowly out from behind the desk until she stood nearly chest to chest with the man. "And right now, you're looking at a dragoness, and you've just threatened her young. Do you wish to continue prodding or are you going to be a good little toadie and go crawl back under the rock from whence you slithered?"
"You're a bloody heathen!" Brann wailed, taking several steps back.
"That's Guard-Captain Heathen to you, Snivels. Now get out of my office and take your useless, gutless, spineless carcass elsewhere!" Aria snapped, her hand resting menacingly on the hilt of one of her trademark twin daggers.
"I'll go straight to Knight-Commander Meredith with this! This...this outrage will not stand!" he squawked as he all but bolted from the office. In his wake, Aria heard the tittering and half-suppressed snorts of guards.
Guardswoman Brennan poked her head in the office a moment later and smiled wolfishly at Aria. "Well done, Captain. Aveline doesn't put up with his shit, either."
Aria laughed. "How she hasn't removed his head by now is beyond me. The woman is a saint."
Brennan strode in and went over to where Tristan was, watching the adults with rapt attention. He gurgled as Brennan came up to him and lifted his arms. Brennan turned back to Aria, her gaze pleadingly hopeful.
"May I?"
Aria nodded her consent and smiled. Brennan lifted him out of the playpen and swung him in a circle, much like Isabela did when she first would greet him. Hawke chuckled at this and said, "He loves it when people do that. You'd think he's part bird, with his fascination with flying."
"Technically, he is. If his namesake is any clue," Brennan quipped, bouncing him in her arms and kissing his forehead. "He's so precious. I love his eyes. Strongly favours his father, in that regard."
"I'm glad of it," Aria said, striding lithely up to them. Tristan reached for her and Brennan reluctantly passed him over. "Can't wait until he can fully walk by himself. He's getting heavy."
"Oh, don't say that. Soon you'll be wishing he was small again so you could just scoop him up," Brennan said, mussing the tyke's wispy silvery hair. Tristan gurgled and kicked his legs in response, so exuberant in his antics that he nearly pushed himself out of Aria's grip.
Aria set him back down in the playpen and handed him his bottle. He took it and started suckling, his eyes going round the room, almost as if he was surveying what mischief he could get into. Brennan genially nodded at Hawke and took her leave, off to patrol the Wounded Coast with another veteran guard for the day. Aria called after her, wishing her good hunting, and Brennan waved. Aria went back to the desk and resumed poring over the previous evenings' reports.
A mugging outside the Hanged Man at 3 am. Four noise complaints from the same neighborhood in Hightown, not far from her own home. She thought back to what had been going on at around 10 last night and didn't remember hearing anything. But then she remembered that she was quite engaged in the throes of passion at the time and the world could have ended without her being aware. Blushing to herself at the thought, she continued on through the stack. Two complaints of rubbish around an unoccupied mansion in Hightown—not Fenris's, a robbery in Darktown... A robbery in Darktown. Aria thumbed back to the report and looked at who had been robbed.
It was Tomwise. Aria's lip curled up in a silent snarl at this and she went out towards the roster to see which guards were available. Aria read the names and only recognized one. He'd be in the commons, awaiting orders if any came. Perrin, the guardsman who Aveline had once charged with swaying Hawke's lovelife away from Anders and Fenris was there, along with a woman whose name Hawke didn't know.
"Perrin!" Aria cheerily said as she entered the room.
"Serah Hawke!" Perrin greeted her in kind, standing and saluting.
"Oh stop that," Aria laughed. "I'm not really a captain."
"As you say, captain," Perrin good-naturedly replied in a teasing tone. "Jenna, this is Aria Hawke, the one the captain told us about. I can speak to her remarkable combat skills, and she's quite the dancer, too."
Aria smiled graciously at Perrin and extended her hand to woman. Jenna was a tall, willowy woman with jet black hair cut short in much the same fashion as Bethany's and fierce cobalt blue eyes. She took Aria's proffered handl her grip was steely and her hand was heavily calloused. Aria returned the Cheshire-cat-grin that Jenna gave her. No mistaking it; Jenna was a warrior.
"Pleasure's all mine, Hawke. I'm recently transferred from Starkhaven. But we've heard all about the Champion of Kirkwall."
"Bah, don't believe everything you hear," Aria said, waving her hand in dismissal.
"So you didn't kill the Arishok in single combat?" Jenna said, almost heartbrokenly.
"Oh, yeah. I did that," Aria retorted. "They just make me out to be some benevolent goody-two-shoes. I'm not one who should ever be sanctified."
"But you do a lot of good, do you not?" Jenna countered, somewhat crestfallen.
"Indeed I do—I just don't want people getting the impression that I'm nice."
At this, Perrin barked a couple of short laughs. "If the way Brann went tearing out of that office is any indication..."
"Right?!" Jenna laughed. "Oh to see him running with his tail between his legs... But you must careful. He has a lot of pull with Meredith."
Aria grinned at this. "We've met. She was wholly unimpressed. You know, until that whole Arishok thing." Aria shuddered. "Andraste's tits, I never want to do that again. Anyway, I kind of have a special assignment for you two, if you're up for it."
"Absolutely!" Perrin said. "Where are we going?"
"I received a report that a businessman, and also a comrade of mine, was robbed last night in Darktown. I'd like you to check it out for me and see what leads you can get. Report back to me what you find."
Perrin and Jenna snapped salutes and strode out of the barracks together, both checking their armaments as they left. Aria smiled after them and went back to the office to check on Tristan. He was halfway over the side of the playpen and Aria bolted to catch him as he vaulted, head first, toward the floor. She caught him and swooped him up into her arms.
"You little demon!" Aria cried, sweeping him above her head in a wide arc. She lightly tossed him and caught him, then blew raspberries on his belly. Tristan squealed in delight and futilely batted at his mother's head. "I can't turn my back for five seconds and you're trying to escape. Where are you gonna run off to, hmm? Ferelden? Starkhaven?"
"Tevinter?" Aria's favorite voice in the world sounded from the doorway.
Tristan squealed and gurgled something very close to sounding like "Da!"
"Yes, yes, alright. You're definitely a daddy's boy," Aria giggled, handing the squirming tot over to his father. "Are you staying?"
"I had planned to. Interestingly enough, I passed Seneschal Brann on my way here," Fenris said, the light in his emerald eyes amused.
"Oh?" Aria impishly asked as Fenris placed Tristan back in the play pen. He handed the child the stuffed dragon of which he was so fond. "Pray tell, what news did he have?"
"He said I had better get my heathen wife under control and asked if I had any words I wished to impart to Knight-Commander Meredith, as he was going to see her post-haste." He regarded Aria with an amused scowl.
Aria snorted at this. "Let us hope Meredith has enough sense to realize what a worm he is and dismisses him as I did."
"The Knight-Commander is not the most sensible person these days, if the guard's rumours are to be believed," Fenris warily admonished.
"I'm not kissing his ass, no matter whose ass he's kissing."
Fenris sighed and gently took her by the shoulders. "I'm saying there could be more diplomatic means which you could employ."
Aria and he stood there, looking into each other's eyes, a silent conversation. Tristan coughed and then began to cry, prompting Aria to break eye contact. She checked his diaper and surely enough, he needed changed. Aria tended to him while Fenris picked up poring over the reports where she had left off.
"Tomwise?" he asked from the desk. "Friend of yours, isn't he?"
"I sent Perrin and Jenna to check it out," Aria replied, wiping the baby's bottom and wrestling the new, clean cloth into place. She then dressed Tristan back in his green, soft cotton onesie, then placed the soiled cloth in a burlap sack she had brought for that specific use. Tristan took his bottle again and was content for the moment to lean back against one of the pillows in the playpen and finish his breakfast. His eyes darted between his parents as they spoke.
"And the noise complaints near our home?" Fenris queried, stacking the ones that had already been read in their own pile and moving on to the as yet unread ones.
"Does it really matter?" Aria asked with a shrug.
"Could be demons."
Aria scoffed at this and again thought back to the events of last night around the time of the noise complaints. She blushed and said, "It was probably us."
Fenris coughed and went back to perusing the small stack of papers. "No, we aren't loud."
There was a knock at the door then and a templar strode in without waiting for permission. Aria nodded cordially and recognized him as one of the higher ranking templars. She and her compatriots had worked with him several times before. The Knight-Captain, Ser Cullen bowed slightly.
"Serah Hawke, it is a pleasure to see you again," the tall, muscular, strawberry blond man said. He turned to Fenris. "Ser Fenris. And this must be the littlest of the Hawke line—Tristan is it?"
Aria fought the panic that rose in her when Ser Cullen approached the playpen. Tristan regarded him warily and looked between his parents for cues as to how to behave. He seemed to freeze when he realized his parents were both holding their breath.
"Beautiful babe," Cullen continued, smiling warmly at Aria and then Fenris.
"Ser Cullen," Aria said with forced cheer. She hoped that the thoughts and terror bombarding her at the moment were not readily apparent. "What can we do for you?"
"I was informed that you are acting Guard-Captain in Aveline's absence," Cullen stated.
"Approved by the council last week," Aria confirmed, throwing the nobles' authority trump card out there.
"I was just dropping by to offer to assist in any matters that may arise. There has been much hostility between the guards and templars of late, as I'm sure you're aware, and I want to ensure that things do not escalate."
Aria sat down in the overstuffed chair that was next to Tristan's playpen. He still regarded Cullen with wide, verdant eyes and kept looking back to Aria for reassurance. She leaned over to pat his head and smiled at him before looking back to Cullen.
"And what would give you any idea that my assuming of the mantle for a few days would cause any of that to change?" Aria glibly stated.
"I ran into Seneschal Brann on the way here."
Fenris stifled a cough and went back to looking busy with the reports. Aria cast him a glare out the corners of her eyes and turned to Cullen. "Seneschal Brann and I have a long history in which he actively discriminates against me for several things. He judges where he should not and he overstates his importance at every turn. He insults me with every other word that comes out of his mouth and I'm not one to take such abuse lying down."
"I'm inclined to agree, Serah, and I have waylaid him for now. I promised to come speak to you on his behalf and he has since returned to his... Overstatedly important role in this somewhat defunct government."
Aria laughed at this and clapped her hand on her knee. "You and I will get along just fine, Ser," she mirthfully chortled. "Guard-Captain Aveline has left detailed instructions for the guards and this particular outfit is a tightly run ship. Honestly, they don't even need me, except to deal with the spontaneous situations that are sure to arise. I do not wish to hamper any of the templar's doings, so long as they don't step on my guards' toes."
"I will do what I can, but I also must obey the orders of my superiors."
The mirth left Aria's demeanor at his words and she perfectly understood the unspoken version of the conversation which they were currently having. "So what have your superiors ordered of you?"
"Knight-Commander Meredith is uncomfortable with you in this position."
"I'm sure she is, but pray tell—why am I being singled out as a threat by the Knight-Commander? I'm no apostate. And in all fairness, that this city still exists as the free citystate of Kirkwall and isn't under Qunari rule..." Aria trailed off, looking at him expectantly, as though to have him finish the sentence.
"Serah Hawke, I am not your enemy," Cullen pleadingly stated. "I am here to let you know that while the Knight-Commander sees this as a power grab, I see it as you stepping up for a friend in need."
Aria was still cautious. "I'm not following. First you hint that you're here to keep tabs on me because her high-and-mightiness is threatened by my mere existence, then you say you're my friend. Either you're here to depose me or you're here because...?" She motioned for him to fill in the blanks.
"I'm here to determine whether you are a threat or whether you are an ally. Please let me report that you are friend, not foe," Cullen openly pleaded.
Aria shook her head and looked over at Fenris, seeking input. Fenris was warily studying Ser Cullen and turned to meet Aria's gaze. He then looked at Tristan, who was now sleeping. Cullen's eyes turned toward the baby as well and softened. A sadness took over his visage.
"If I am not mistaken, magic runs in both of your family lines," he softly stated. "Do not repeat this to anyone, but at the first sign of him possessing any such ability, I implore you to flee."
The words hit Fenris like an ogre in full charge and he abruptly stood up. The chair nearly fell backwards in the wake of his sudden movement. His eyes took on a ferocity that Aria had never seen and they flicked once to Tristan, then back to Cullen.
"Let me make this perfectly clear," Fenris quietly stated, though there was nothing soft in the diamond-edge to his voice. "If you, or anyone ever lays a finger on my son, it will be the last thing you do." As he finished speaking, the lyrium in his skin flared and the temperature in the room rose a few degrees.
Normally, it was Aria who was in need of talking down and to be honest, she wasn't against Fenris ramming his hand through the chest of anyone who dared make a threat against her child. However, she believed that Ser Cullen was actually trying to protect Tristan from the fate of the Gallows. Aria stood quickly and silently and placed a placating hand on Fenris's arm.
"We appreciate the warning," Aria swiftly and quietly spoke. Her words were delivered on a low, sweet voice meant to calm Fenris. "And I look forward to keeping order with you. I have no fight with the templars, so long as they start no quarrels with me."
Ser Cullen bowed at this and wisely took his leave. Fenris sat next to the playpen and was silent as he watched the little boy sleep. Fear washed over his visage and Aria could all but feel the terror radiating from him. Neither one of them had ever even considered the fact that Tristan could be a mage. What scared Aria more was Fenris's hatred of magic. While he was much more tolerant of it than he used to be, he still hated it. Would he hate their son as well if he possessed it? Would his hatred of it make her choose between her son and him? Because honestly, she'd rather die than make that choice.
"Fenris?" she said, her voice breaking.
His gaze snapped up to hers and he abruptly stood. He enveloped her in his arms. "If he is a mage, we will run. We will...take him to the Ferelden Circle. Or to Tevinter. But we will not stay here."
Aria pulled away to look him directly in the face. "Would you still love him if he were a mage?"
The tortured expression that washed over his face broke her heart. He looked back at the sleeping baby and the pain left his visage. "How can I hate something that was created purely out of love? How can I hate that which I helped create, and the one whom I treasure above all bore into existence?"
"Maybe there's a way we can find out now," Aria said as Fenris crushed her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head.
"We'll talk to Anders. He might know."
"Okay," Aria said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She rarely cried but this had terrified her beyond anything she could recall. Not even the Arishok was as hopelessly frightful as a templar threatening to take her son. She'd kill whoever tried.
"Did you see that complaint about a foul smell in the Chantry?" Fenris asked once they'd both regained their composure.
"I hadn't gotten that far yet," Aria admitted. "Probably some noble finding anything they can to bitch about."
"Probably right," Fenris agreed with a heavy sigh as he flipped that report onto the "already read" pile.
They finished the reports by midmorning and between the two of them, assigned different on-duty, non-patrolling guards to follow up on those cases worthy of attention. Fenris strapped Tristan to his back and took him home for his afternoon nap. Aria went out to the Wounded Coast to catch up with Brennan and her partner for the day, a man named Preston. She caught them about halfway back to Kirkwall.
They reported no bandits, no slavers, and that the route was blessedly quiet. When they returned to the barracks, the next shift came on. Aria saw to it that the transition between shifts went smoothly and then she went home. When she arrived, she was shocked to see Anders and Fenris playing with Tristan in the study. Anders was making things float in front of Tristan—small knick-knacks and toys-and was encouraging Tristan to focus on them. So far, everything fell when Tristan seemed to zero in.
"I don't think he has any magic," Anders reported, watching the baby closely. "I know that when I was about his age, I could levitate my bottle off a shelf and into my crib."
"You remember that?" Aria asked, astonished.
"No, my mother told me," Anders laughed.
"You had a mother?" Fenris glibly asked. Anders took the barb in stride and graced Fenris with a sarcastic smile.
"And now that mama's home, I must be off," Anders politely stated. He said nothing else and disappeared out the back way to the secret tunnel under the home that led to Darktown.
"I'm both relieved and disappointed," Fenris spoke as Tristan took full advantage of not having the knick knacks out of reach. Aria snatched up the ones that were choking hazards and put them atop the mantle, well out of the baby's reach.
"Why?" Aria queried as she joined them on the rug on the floor.
"I don't know. It is odd," Fenris stated, watching the little boy with close scrutiny. "He's already magic to me. A manifestation of how much I love you. It's just... I don't know."
Aria leaned her head on his shoulder and shook a rattle for Tristan. Tristan took it and mimicked her movements, then squealed with glee when it rattled. Aria laughed and mussed his hair. "Magic, no magic. Whatever, he's perfect."
Fenris kissed the top of her head. "He's perfect."