Chapter 2

The next 60 seconds consisted of intense commotion. Aveline was screeching about arresting the fool Anders, and Hawke had to wedge himself in between the rebel mage and Fenris just so the angry elf wouldn't claw Anders to death. Besides, if Anders retaliated, maybe it would be Hawke's estate that would be blown to bits this time.

"Let's just calm down!" insisted Varric at an inadequate volume. A smashed bottle and a curse or two later and he had given up. "Or…not?"

"Now this is a party," cooed Isabela, putting a large bottle to her lips.

"Shut up!" bellowed Hawke. The entire home fell silent. Fenris attempted one final swipe at Anders which Hawke easily deflected, holding his elbow to the elf's chest to keep some distance between them. "This is my mother's funeral. Anders has spent the last week repairing her body. I went to him, that was my decision."

Isabela snorted. "That's a terrible decision, Hawke. And that's coming from me."

Hawke had known Isabela for years now, and these sorts of comments were white noise at this point. Ignoring her entirely, he continued. "You all saw her. What that blood mage did to her." A couple of Hawke's friends shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Anders's magic was the only thing that worked!"

Fenris in particular turned his gaze away, perhaps in shame or maybe even thought. Fenris had been there himself in the maleficarum's den, after all. He had seen Leandra shamble up to Hawke's party in that bloodstained, white gown. The result of another mage's sick experiments.

"Well," said Anders after clearing his throat. "It's good to see I'm missed. Shall we retrieve the coffin?"

Hawke released his elbow from Fenris and spun quickly to grab Anders by his robes. He slammed the mage against the wall and snarled. "You aren't going anywhere! You'll sit here and shut your mouth!"

For a moment, Hawke could see something in Anders's eyes. It wasn't fear or guilt. It was desire. After all, this hadn't been the first time he'd slammed Anders against a wall.

Now it was Hawke's turn to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He shifted his weight to toss Anders aside. Anders stumbled but caught himself. Now his expression bore guilt. Guilt, and nothing else.

"Hawke, I –"

"I'll take three of you," interrupted Hawke.

Fenris immediately stepped forward, and Hawke nodded. Next, a voice said, "Take me."

Hawke spun around and scoffed. "You? You're half a bottle deep into imported qunari piss. Plus, you're old."

"Watch your tongue boy!" shouted Gamlen. "Leandra was my sister. You let me find those Carta pricks and let me give'm a what for. You know it's the least I can do after…after everything."

Hawke inhaled sharply but nodded. "Fine," he relented.

"And you'll take me," Bethany piped up.

Rolling his eyes, Hawke replied, "Good luck convincing metal-for-brains to release you."

"Metal-for-brains," answered a familiar voice, "has half a mind to arrest this mage and find the damned coffin himself!" Two flaming, whiskey eyes focused on Anders as a templar helm clattered to the floor. The man's wavy, blond hair was tussled almost as wildly as the look in his eyes.

Bethany turned to face him. She was clearly surprised to see who was under the helmet. "You quit, remember?"

The templar, or rather ex-templar, never looked back at Bethany. His stare was intently fixated on Anders. He slowly moved forward like a wild animal stalking its prey, eyes narrowing in the process. "I'd like to see him try to stop me."

"And here I thought we were friends, Cullen," answered Anders who knew damn well he had nothing left to lose.

Varric hissed. "Oof. Wrong choice of words, Blondie."

Cullen was charging at Anders so fast that the mage had no chance of defending himself. If Aveline hadn't moved in to physically hold him back, Anders may well have perished at the Hawke estate.

"Stand down," commanded the guard captain. Her voice was stern, but kind and sympathetic.

Cullen tried to break free at first, but Aveline's soothing voice ended up pacifying him. He stopped struggling. Aveline released him. Cullen turned away from the lot of them, placing a hand on his forehead. He looked defeated. "Just…go, Bethany. I've no authority over you."

"I am aware," snipped Bethany. "But why did you come here in the first place?"

Varric chuckled. "Isn't it obvious?" Then at the same time, Cullen and Varric answered, "Cassandra."

Cullen sighed. His thumb idly grazed the fresh scar on his lip – the one he had obtained while fighting the Knight Commander. "True, I'll be leaving with Seeker Pentaghast shortly, but her presence is –"

"Practically inescapable," chuckled Varric. "So, you know, maybe don't tell her we're here?"

"Your secret is safe with me," Hawke assured them.

Cullen shook his head. "Of course, I've temporarily abandoned one problem only to be faced with…" he gestured toward Anders.

"Come on, Curly," answered Varric. "Let Hawke deal with that. Sunshine and Blondie aren't your problem anymore. Losing at Wicked Grace, on the other hand…"

Cullen gave a relenting sigh and said "Alright," following Varric's lead and entering the study.

There was a moment of deeply uncomfortable silence. It was broken when Isabela remarked, "He looks better with the scar, I think. More…mysterious."

Usually Hawke drowned these comments out, but answered very certainly, "Yes, actually. Now, may we leave? I do believe our mother's mangled corpse is still in Carta hands. Anders, tell me where they went. And Andraste's tits, don't follow me!"