A/N: I know, not a very original title; but, hey, this is fan fiction… Think about it for a moment; it'll come to you ;D
Chapter Eight: The Bone Pit
"You handle a needle better than you do that dagger of yours."
Hrodwynn was staring at Varric's chest, her delicate hands cool against his skin, hardly causing him any discomfort. Or that might've been due to the numbing salve she had used earlier. Regardless, she had made a little hum, like she hadn't heard his comment, so he tried again. "How come you get squeamish in a fight, but not while closing a wound?"
"What?" she looked up from her work, having finished the last stitch. They were resting in a small cavern of the mine while Carver scouted ahead, giving her time to tend to any injuries. The only person hurt so far was Varric. A dragonling had jumped onto his back, piercing his coat and sinking its claws deep into his shoulder. Hawke had batted it away with the mace end of his staff, but it had left a deep, three inch long scratch on Varric's chest.
"That first night we met," he dropped his voice, not wanting the others to hear, "You must've lost your lunch four or five times. I figured it was because of all the blood and gore. But today you can sit here, calm as can be, and sew closed a bloody gash like it's a tear in a tunic."
She blinked at him, her emerald eyes glowing warmly. Little pink spots tinted her cheeks, and she ducked her head to the side. She picked up the poultice, pretending she had meant to reach for it all along and not hide her blush. Then she lifted her chin and turned back towards him, though her eyes remained focused on his chest and not his face. "I'll take that for a compliment." With precise aim, she placed the poultice directly over the wound, pressing down gently with one hand while she snagged a roll of bandages with the other.
"You go right ahead and do that… ahhhhh," Varric made a sound of satisfaction, the paste of healing herbs cool against his skin.
"I guess… I don't know," she continued, talking while she worked, "It's different, healing a wound instead of making one. I suppose, because I'm helping someone rather than harming, that my mind figures it's alright to look at all the blood and unpleasantness—if that makes any sense. And while we're on the subject of wounds, the cut's not that bad. Should heal with hardly a scar after you take a healing potion."
"Nah-uh," his voice was deeper than normal, having tucked his chin to keep an eye on her while she wound the bandage around his chest. "Can't afford to have my senses dulled, not until the mine is cleared. Besides, a scar will only add to my allure. Just think of all the women who will coo over the little scar marring my chest hair."
"And think of the stories you could make up, explaining how it happened," she agreed knowingly, finishing tying off the bandage. She met his eyes, smiling widely. "Varric, you're incorrigible."
His brows curved with hurt, as if somehow he felt he had been insulted or misjudged by her statement. "I try, Button," he gave a weary sigh, "I do so try."
"You could take a sip from one of the green bottles," she pressed, helping him to his feet. "They're a milder potion, not nearly as good, but they won't make you dizzy or knock you off your feet like what I have in the red bottles."
He grunted while she helped him back into his tunic, mindful of the tenderness and the bandages. "No thanks, Button. Like I said, can't take the chance until the job's done." She grew quiet behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see her biting her lip, wringing his coat in her hands. He was about to ask her what was wrong when Carver came jogging back towards them.
"Carver!" Hawke called out first, standing to greet him, "That was… quick. I take it we're almost at the end of the mine?"
Carver's eyes were wide, the soft blue orbs flickering around, hardly taking the time to rest on any one person or thing for more than two seconds. "Ah, sure, you could say that. The mine ends, at any rate. Opens up to a nice, wide pit with hardly any cover. Oh! And I almost forgot." His voice dropped from the fake lightheartedness to an angsty scowl, "There's a dragon."
Hawke gave a loud, theatrical sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he answered, "Carver, that's no surprise. We've been fighting dragons all through the tunnels…"
"Not this big," he argued. At his brother's exasperated eye-roll, he continued, "Take a look for yourself, if you don't believe me. There's a reason the smaller dragons were in here; afraid of being eaten. The one out there can't fit in here to get at them."
"Do dragons eat their young?" Merril asked.
"Sometimes, I wish my parents had…" Hawke quipped. "Alright, let's go look at this big bad dragon of yours. Everyone else stay here."
"Not for all the gold in Orzammar," Varric groused, plucking his leather duster from Hrodwynn. He hissed with pain at the sudden and forceful movement, but stubbornly put his coat on, deciding to carry Bianca in his hands. Seeing as everyone else was going to ignore Hawke's orders and go with to see the dragon, and not really wanting to be left behind in the dark caverns where they had just killed a score or so of smaller dragons, Hrodwynn stuffed her supplies haphazardly into her pack and raced after Varric and the others.
She caught up to them fairly quickly, coming up to Carver's side and peeking around his bicep. They grouped near the opening of the tunnel, no one wanting to step forward into the light where they might be discernible to what was pacing outside. At first all she could see was a large shadow, stretched across the ground beyond the opening, reaching halfway across the pit. She wondered silently what time of day it was, hoping the sun was so low on the horizon that it cast a monstrous shadow for a smaller dragon. She gripped Carver's arm when the shadow moved back from the opening and the dragon came into view.
And she understood why the other dragons hid in the tunnels.
Monstrous was too tame of a word to describe the size and heaviness and… evil rage emanating from the dragon. It had to be as big as the Chantry, she thought, easily larger than anything she'd ever seen. Perhaps the tip of its tail could fit inside the tunnel, but not much more than that. When it turned its head towards them, she stared into the black caverns of its nostrils and imagined she could walk inside them, standing straight up, and still have room above her head.
"First, is anyone else injured?" Hawke asked, turning away from the dragon, now that he had gotten a good look at it, and looking each and every one of them in the eye. "Come on. Speak up. I don't want anyone to hide something," he refused to look at Fenris, "That could cause fatigue or inhibit your movements during the fight."
No one answered, until the silence grew too long and Merril shifted uncomfortably, "Well, not really, but I stubbed my toe, a little while ago, doesn't hurt, though, so I suppose I'm alright to fight…"
Hawke stared at her a moment, trying to tell himself that she wasn't serious, that she was making light of the situation to ease everyone's nervousness. He wasn't sure, however; he simply didn't know her well enough. "Right, here's what we're going to do. Aveline, you're going to go in first, attack it front and center, keep its attention on you. Fenris, Carver, the two of you are going to flank it. While it's focused on Aveline, attack it from its blindspots. Hamstring it, slice its wings, whatever weakness you can exploit. Merril, you and I are going to stay back, out of its reach, and hit it with every kind of spell we can think of. Keep going until you find something that weakens it. Understood?" At her nod, he turned to Isabela. "You, stay with Merril, watch her back…"
"You're keeping us back from the fight because we're women!" Isabela's words weren't so much a question as an accusation.
"Don't be a dunce," Aveline scolded, "Hawke has me charging the beast, and I'm a woman."
"That's debatable. Hawke, let me help. I can handle myself in a fight," she argued, drawing her twin daggers and twirling them in her hands.
"I know it!" he agreed vehemently, "But this isn't a barroom brawl. This is a fire-breathing dragon, and you're not wearing any armor that can protect you. Stay with Merril. Keep her safe. There may be some more dragonlings or other dangers out there. Merril's got to keep her focus on the dragon, so she'll need you to watch her back."
Isabela looked like she wanted to continue arguing, but conceded he had a point regarding her lack of fire-proofing. She closed her mouth and moved to stand near Merril, who was nervously picking at the gemstone on the head of her staff.
"And Varric," he turned towards the dwarf, "Stay back with Hrodwynn, here in the tunnels. Fire from cover and…"
"Hawke…" he looked as upset as Isabela, and just as likely to argue, as he shifted his crossbow in his hands.
"Don't argue with me, too, Varric. Hrodwynn's important; keep her safe. We lose our healer, it won't matter if we defeat the dragon or not. I'm sure your crossbow will be able to handle the distance, if you really feel you must help kill it." He put his hand on Varric's shoulder, the uninjured one, and said, "I'm counting on you. I promised Anders that not a hair on her head would be harmed, and I'm trusting you to help me keep that promise."
Varric looked at Hrodwynn, how she clung to Carver's muscled arm, how wide her eyes were and how her lower lip was trembling. "Shit, Hawke, since you put it that way…"
"Thank you," he actually sounded sincere in his gratitude for keeping Hrodwynn safe, enough so that she finally tore her eyes from the dragon to look at him. And he did seem sincere, smiling a little at each of them and encouraging them with a nod or a swift slap on the shoulder. He came up beside Carver, who had to gently pry Hrodwynn's fingers off his arm. "Everyone ready?"
"Ready," Aveline shifted her shield before her and tightening her grip on her sword. Fenris and Carver nodded, narrowing their eyes as they mapped out the floor of the pit, where there was cover, planning their routes to flank the dragon. Merril could be heard talking to herself, her voice even tighter than normal, until Isabela leaned over and whispered something supportive in her ear. Varric took Hrodwynn's hand. When she looked down at him, he gave her a wink and pulled her a few steps back from the others.
Hawke had been staring outside the whole time, trusting the others to prepare themselves, his main attention on the dragon. He timed it just right, waiting until the dragon was pacing away, which would give them the precious seconds they would need to exit the tunnel without tripping over each other. "Now! Go go go go!"
Hrodwynn turned away, letting go of Varric's hand to stuff her knuckles into her mouth, keeping the scream inside. She didn't understand, didn't know how they could do it, how they could charge outside and face something larger than Kirkwall. Well, maybe not that large, but it seemed that way to her. It certainly was larger than she could have imagined. She heard the dragon bellow, Aveline's shouted challenge, and a blast of wind that sounded like the roar of a furnace.
"You alright?" Varric asked, taking her elbow and pulling her fist from her mouth. "Hrodwynn? Wynnie?"
"How do they do it?" she asked, her voice sounding small in the nearly empty cavern, compared to the din of battle already starting up outside. "How do they race out there, face that… that… that thing! It's a dragon. The mother of all dragons. How do they… just… I couldn't… I'm too scared… but they ran out there and… how…?"
Varric set his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Because they each have a job to do. Don't get me wrong, Button, they're scared. We all are. Shit, I nearly pissed myself when I first saw the size of that thing. But being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. Being brave simply means you do what you have to, despite being scared. They each have a job, some small part of a plan, and when everyone does their part, the dragon will be killed. Doesn't matter how big it is, because we're all facing it together." He cocked his crossbow, "And your part comes after, when we'll need patching up."
She turned and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, "Like looking at a gory wound, ignoring the mess, and knowing what needs to be done to heal it, and doing those things step by step until the job's done?"
He nodded sagely. "Exactly. I knew you'd understand. Now, why don't you busy yourself, setting out the things you might need later, while I get in a little target practice?" He hefted Bianca suggestively.
She sniffed and nodded, feeling a little better, and went over to where she had dropped her pack earlier.
"And, ah, Button, about what I said earlier, my pissing myself I mean, you won't mention that to anyone, will you?"
She saw the look of apprehension on his features, and couldn't suppress the smile. "Wouldn't dream of it. Gotta think of your reputation, after all."
He flashed her a wide grin. "That's my girl!"
Hrodwynn did the best she could to keep herself busy while the battle wore on. She arranged the bottles of healing potion, took out two jars of salve for burns, made a neat pile of the rolls of bandages, prepped several healing poultices, lit a lantern for light… but at last she had nothing more to do other than play at rearranging things. She grew antsy, nervous, perhaps even bored on some perverse level, and crept over towards Varric to peek outside.
"Stay back, Button," he warned, taking careful aim before letting loose a volley of three bolts in rapid succession. She gasped when every single bolt flew just over Aveline's head to land, neatly grouped, right beside the dragon's eye. "Damn, she's pulling to the left," he muttered, swinging a lever that ejected the spent cartridge of bolts.
Hrodwynn barely heard him, watching transfixed as the dragon, which had been about to blast fire at Aveline, jerked its head back and away, irritated by the bolts. A hind leg came up to swat at the pesky pinpricks, and it craned its neck to make the reach easier.
"Oh, no…" she groaned, fighting the scream welling up in her chest, wanting to stuff that knuckle back between her teeth.
"What is it?" Varric asked, locking the fresh cartridge in place before lifting his gaze up. "Andraste's anointed ass," he breathed, seeing what she had seen.
Fenris was at the dragon's side, chopping at the hind leg paused in midair. In trying to scratch at the bolts beside its eye, the leg had extended and exposed the hamstrings, which Fenris was trying desperately to slice through before they were out of reach. Unfortunately, he was so focused on his target, that he didn't notice the dragon had seen him and was pulling back its tail, aiming ever so carefully.
Hrodwynn was moving before she could think, racing out of the tunnel, racing ahead of her shouted warning. Fenris didn't hear her, his mediative concentration on the leg dangling above him just within reach. He managed one more swing, before the tail struck from his blindside.
Her steps never paused, even as she watched Fenris folding like a rag doll, bending backwards above and below where the tail landed mid-thigh. His arms flung wide, his greatsword falling from suddenly nerveless fingers, his feet lifting off the ground as the tail propelled him through the air. She changed her trajectory to intercept him, his body landing bonelessly on the hard packed earth. She thought she could feel the force of the impact through the trembling ground beneath her feet, could feel the percussion through the air washing over her face.
Then she was on her knees beside him, her hands eagerly grasping at his shoulders, trying to lift him up while avoiding those dangerously spiked pauldrons.
"HAWKE!" Varric bellowed, racing out after her but too slow to catch her. He'd seen Fenris get struck, Hrodwynn reaching his side, and the dragon turning its attention on the two of them.
"Kaffas!" Fenris hissed, taking a moment to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain, gripping her arms so tightly he nearly broke skin. She didn't answer him—though she did feel relief he was alive and conscious—but tried to get him up to where she could drag him out of danger. She glanced at the dragon to determine how far away it was, and her eyes widened in horror, seeing its opened maw aimed at them. Still unthinking, her body acting as if possessed by an outside force, she turned her back to the dragon and hunched over Fenris, protecting him as best as her slight frame would allow.
Fenris was in pain, his leg burning with an unquenchable fire, his breath staggering in his chest, his thoughts scattered from being thrown halfway across the pit. He could only feel and react, and feeling the pain increase when she tried to get him to move made him swear. He had wanted her to stop touching him, stop moving him, but when she did cease tugging on him, he had to blink in surprise. Momentarily confused by her abrupt change, he looked over her shoulder to see the dragon bearing down on them. Still unable to think, only able to react, he gripped her arms tighter and rolled their bodies, placing himself protectively over her.
Hrodwynn's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, her brows curved with fear and panic and alarm and…
The dragon took one last step closer and…
Fenris kept his eyes locked on her face, wishing she was safe inside the tunnel, bending his head lower and…
…a blast of wind or some sort of force tore past them, from somewhere to her right, smacking the dragon directly on the jaw, the strength of the spell pushing its face to the side and causing its fiery breath to miss and singe the ground. The next moment, Hawke was there, shouting at them, the words unclear but the meaning evident: get the fuck out of there!
Hrodwynn didn't need any more encouragement. She gripped Fenris again from beneath this time, supporting as much of his weight as he'd let her, and began hauling him back to the tunnel. He allowed her touch without comment, the only sign of his discomfort the way he dragged his left leg. Varric met them halfway, firing his crossbow one last time before taking hold of Fenris' belt to help keep him upright and moving.
They made the relative safety of the tunnel opening before she dared to risk a glance behind them. Merril had fired several bolts of energy that had allowed Hawke to dart back out of range. As she stopped Aveline stepped forward to gain the dragon's attention while Carver picked up where Fenris had left off.
"Fuck!" Varric breathed, letting go of Fenris' belt so she could lower him gently to the ground, around a corner from the opening. "The next time you go running off like that, Button, I'll bend you over my knee and spank you!" He stepped away and fired off a quick succession of bolts outside just to vent off some of his anger. And fright. Seeing her run pell-mell like that into the middle of a fight with a dragon nearly made his heart stop.
"Sorry, Varric, I…" she didn't really know how to explain what she'd done, much less why. "I didn't think; I just did what I had to."
He looked down at her, hovering over Fenris and gently palpitating his leg. The elf's face was gray, sweating, his lips drawn back in a feral though silent sneer of pain. "Yeah," Varric said a little kinder, thinking of their conversation earlier about each person doing their part. Seeing how she gave all her attention to her patient's injuries, he grudgingly gave in, "Yeah, I guess you did." He turned back and took aim once more at the dragon.
Hrodwynn didn't spare her insane actions any more thought, her hands full of present problems. She could see Fenris' leg was broken, and not cleanly if the bulge towards the inside of his thigh was any indication. That his armor hadn't torn was a testament to its strength. It was also probably saving his life, the tightness of the tough yet flexible leather keeping him from bleeding out through what she knew had to be a compound fracture. A curse hung just behind her lips, without the time or breath to waste on it.
"Varric? I'm gonna need your help."
He fired off another bolt. "I don't know anything about healing…"
"Now, Varric," she commanded as her fingers began undoing Fenris' belt buckle. He heard the change in tone, and felt apprehension tighten in his chest as he obediently set aside Bianca.
"What do you want me to do?"
She slapped Fenris' hands out of the way, as he tried to help. "Hold him down."
Varric gave a disbelieving sort of huff. "You want me to do what now?"
She continued to strip Fenris, pulling off his boots as carefully as possible. "He's got a broken leg." She paused finally to look up at him, speaking as if Fenris couldn't hear them. "It's a bad break, through the skin, and I'm going to have to set it in a hurry or he'll bleed out. There won't be any time to give him anything for the pain. It's gonna be messy, and painful, and I've gotta move fast, and he," she shot an accusatory finger at Fenris without turning her head, "Can't move in the slightest, no matter how much it hurts."
"There's no need," the elf said, his voice strained. "Do what you must; I'll keep still."
Varric looked from one to the other, and had to put his money on the girl. "Fine. But how, exactly? I may outweigh Broody there, but I don't doubt he's got the strength to throw me. Easily."
"Then sit on his chest; I don't care just keep him still!" she shouted, shoving Fenris' tunic far enough out of the way to reach the fastenings of his armor-like leggings. Once undone, her hands gripped the edges of the fabric at his hips, hesitating, waiting on Varric. "Well?"
He was grumbling to himself, far too quiet for either one to make out the words, but he did move to do as he was told. He straddled Fenris' chest, positioning his ass directly over his sternum and setting his hands on his shoulders, ignoring the ache of his own wound. "Don't get excited, elf," he quipped loud enough to be heard, making light of the fact that his crotch was inches from Fenris' face. "This doesn't mean anything."
"Not surprising. I always took you for the love-them-and-leave-them type."
"Ho-ho, Mr. Broody told a joke. You know what, I may buy you some flowers when we get back to Kirkwall, merely as a thank you."
"I'd prefer chocola… argh!" Fenris' words deteriorated into an unintelligible groan, his features twisting in excruciating pain. Varric winced, feeling the elf tense beneath him. Any second he expected to be thrown aside, or have him do that thing with his hand and pass it through his torso, cutting him in two. True to his word, however, Fenris kept himself from moving, though Varric did have to contend with the occasional twitch.
Then Hrodwynn cursed, "Bloody shite…"
"What is it?" he asked, alarmed, trying to twist over his shoulder to see her.
Hrodwynn had to pause. No wonder Fenris was so eager to make the bet with Isabela that she couldn't guess the color of his underpants; it would be hard to guess the color of something that wasn't there. The next moment, she realized Varric was trying to see what had caught her attention. She didn't want him to see what she had seen, or hadn't seen, or had seen because there hadn't been… "Nothing. It's… nothing… just… stop moving!"
Varric quit trying to turn around, and she got her mind back in gear. Fenris' leg was oozing blood freely now that the leggings were no longer keeping pressure on the wound. Quickly she got back to work, trying to cause him the least amount of pain, and doing her best not to look THERE. She heard him groan again as she finished stripping him and tossed the leggings out of the way. Then she moved up beside the broken leg, gripped his thigh just above his knee with both hands, and took a deep breath.
Varric watched with heavy eyes, no longer able to feel nothing, as the elf tried not to react to the pain. Fenris threw his arms wide, his gauntlets clawing at the ground, leaving deep furrows in the dirt and stones. His torso moved a little, and Varric had to adjust his position to keep him weighted down. He tried to shut his ears to the sounds coming from behind him, glad that he couldn't see as he was sure the sight would make him puke. Or faint. Or something just as unmanly—like straddling the elf's chest and shoving his crotch in his face. He huffed with a little discomfiture. This was one story he wasn't going to tell; at least, not without a lot of editing!
Hrodwynn breathed through her nose, strong and steady, as she worked. The bone had been set, the wound carefully stitched closed, Fenris' thigh held straight between two splints as she wrapped bandages around it all. She already had a poultice in place for the wound, and felt grateful she had taken Varric's suggestion to set certain items out ahead of time. A moment later and she was finished. She leaned back to reach for a blanket and drew it up over his legs to his waist, preserving some of his modesty.
Only then did she finally take a moment to think about what she had seen…
"Hrodwynn? Are you finished back there? You're awfully quiet."
"What? Oh, yes, Varric, you can get up now. Thank you." She couldn't look at him as he stood; she couldn't look at Fenris, either. Her neck was bent to almost breaking to try to keep her face from showing, sure that it was burning brightly with embarrassment. She picked up one of the small red vials—the strongest potion she'd brought—her fingers shaking hard enough to threaten to drop it.
"Hey, you did a good job, Button," Varric said comfortingly, thinking she had been upset over the seriousness of the wound. He wrapped his thick, blunt fingers over hers and steadied her grip. "And he didn't feel much pain," he lied. Truthfully Fenris hadn't even closed his eyes until she finished, but she didn't need to know that. "Passed out fairly early on."
She hummed questioningly, looking up at him at last. She saw the compassion in his eyes, the encouraging smile on his lips, and realized why he thought she was upset. She couldn't correct him, however, not without admitting what she saw. "I… ah… I know… thanks… um… I have to give him this," she gestured with the vial.
"He's asleep," Varric reminded her.
She nodded, but moved to kneel beside Fenris. "I can manage. How's the fight going? Anyone else hurt?" She shifted Fenris' head from the ground to her lap. The movement woke him, or he'd never been asleep—either way, he opened pale green eyes to focus on her face. He was conscious enough to swallow the small amounts of healing potion she gave him, all the while watching her with that wary, predatory look like he had the night she'd tended the wound on his shoulder.
Varric watched her for a moment, a sad sort of look on his face, before he cleared his throat and looked outside. "Ah, I think Rivaini is hurt, not seriously, but her scarf's askew, and it looks like she's having trouble keeping her feet. Can't see… no, wait, there she is. Aveline's down. Not moving." He picked up his crossbow again and started firing.
"Damn," she muttered. She knew she had to get out there and help them, but she was scared this time. She looked down at Fenris, saw his features relax as the potent potion took effect. She set his head gently on the ground, pulled the blanket a little higher onto his chest, and steeled her resolve.
"Looks like Carver just got hit."
"The tail again?" she asked, moving up beside Varric, feeling her heart begin to race as she tried to see whom she could get to in time, Aveline or Isabela or Carver.
"Fire," he answered shortly. He sensed Hrodwynn preparing to dart outside again, and stopped her by grabbing her wrist. "No, wait. It's almost over. Watch Hawke."
Varric was right. The dragon was tired, bruised and bleeding from countless wounds, its steps stumbling and off-balance. Hawke, on the other hand, was full of concentrated magic and towering ire. He stalked up to the dragon, placing himself between it and his recently burned brother, and with a bellow of rage he swung his staff, the mace end serving as a counterweight, adding to the power of the arc. From the other end shot out a violent bolt of lightning, so bright that it outshone the sunlight. The bolt connected with the dragon's chest, piercing the scales and delving through flesh to burst its heart. The beast never had time to scream in pain before it fell, heavy and lifeless at Hawke's feet.
"…shit…"
"Yeah," Varric agreed with a shocked sort of laugh, "Remind me not to piss him off." He let go of her arm and set aside Bianca, "We should go help them inside, don't you think?"
"What?" she asked, her eyes a little wide as she tore them away from the image of Hawke, shoulders heaving with rage as he stood over his vanquished foe. Seeing Varric's hazel eyes staring calmly at her, she came back to her senses. "Oh, right. Go get Carver. I'll help with Aveline."
She took stock of everyone as she jogged up to Aveline. Carver was struggling to his feet, hissing in pain and gladly accepting Varric's good shoulder to lean on. Merril and Isabela had their arms around each other, both of them unsteady but keeping their feet for now. Aveline was still, too still, and heavy-looking in all that armor and gear. Hrodwynn knelt beside her shoulder, wondering how she'd get her back to the tunnel, when Hawke finally broke out of his cold rage and approached them. He knelt on her other side, looking across her chest to Hrodwynn and said gently, "Carry my staff. I'll carry her."
She didn't argue, didn't even have the chance as he scooped the woman up in his arms, armor and all, and lifted her like she didn't weigh any more than a child. Hrodwynn sat there for a moment longer, stunned. Every time she thought she had the git figured out, he'd do something unexpectedly nice or noble. She shook her head and picked up his staff and Aveline's sword, before heading over to Merril and Isabela to steer them in the right direction.
Once everyone was inside the tunnel, she set to work, quietly taking control of the situation. Merril wasn't hurt, but she was shaky, her eyes glassy and her face pale. Hrodwynn quickly determined she wasn't a priority and said, "Merril, sit down over there, would you? That's it. Just breathe; I'll be with you soon. Isabela? Let me take a quick look." She turned to see the former pirate, swaying like she was still standing on the deck of a ship. She lifted the edge of the scarf out of the way to see a long cut just above her temple and below the hairline. It wasn't too deep, but it was bleeding freely as head wounds tended to do. Yet the injury was an easy fix, and one she could do on her own. "Nothing's broken, and the cut's shallow. Take one of the green bottles; you'll be fine."
She moved her attention onto the next, "Carver?" She knelt down at his right side, getting a good look at his injury. His skin was blackened from his fingertips to where his arm entered his vest, perhaps a little more. The vest was damaged, the heat of the fire burning away the edge of the fabric and stitching. Some of his hair was singed and a good part of his neck was red and beginning to blister, but she was confident he would heal.
"Bad, huh?" he panted where he sat, propped against the cavern wall, leaning on his good arm. Even if he couldn't turn his head to look, he could feel where the burn marred his flesh. And the stench made him want to retch. He coughed, then had to catch his breath as she examined his arm.
"Not as bad as you think," she lied, her tone calm and soothing. She pressed a red bottle into Varric's hands, who was sitting next to him. "Have him start on this. Slowly. I'll be right back after I take a look at Aveline."
He nodded, unstopping the bottle and holding it to Carver's lips.
Confident she had the others tended to, at least for now, she turned her complete attention on Aveline. The woman was still unconscious, her lips parted with shallow breaths. "How is she?" pressed Hawke, standing stiffly over them.
"Can't tell yet," she hummed, her fingers massaging through Aveline's thick ginger mane as she felt around a large bump, "It looks like a concussion, with the swelling and all. Her skull isn't caved in or anything, but it might be cracked. I'll give her something for it, and she should be awake by morning. With a headache worse than any hangover, but… oh, bloody Void…" her voice trailed away as she looked up at Isabela taking a long pull from a small red vial. "Hawke! Catch her!"
Lightning fast reflexes fired off, his body full of adrenaline after the fight or he might not have reached her in time. Isabela giggled, called out a, "Whoopsies!" as she lost her balance and teetered. She fell right into Hawke's arms, the giggle turning into a laugh as she stared up into his golden amber orbs. "My, my, Hawke, but you are a handsome man, aren't you."
Hrodwynn was dripping a potent potion from another small red vial into Aveline's mouth, gently stroking her neck, encouraging her to swallow despite being out cold. Even focused on her current patient, however, she managed to divide her attention evenly between the two women. "Isabela, are you color-blind? I said a green bottle, not red, especially not the smaller red bottles. You don't need anything that strong."
"Oh, but I do, little Button," she sighed, holding onto Hawke's arms, her fingers stroking his muscles. "Can't have this pretty face of mine scarred, or I'd lose my best asset." She pouted up at him, "That would be a shame, don't you agree?"
"Ah…" For once, he seemed stumped for a snarky reply.
"Maker!" Carver had to turn his face to hide his laughter, his pain lessening thanks to his own bottle.
"This is going to get very uncomfortable, very quickly," Varric predicted eagerly.
She tried hard, keeping her eyes glued to Aveline's throat and her concentration on not drowning the city guard with the healing potion. Yet Hrodwynn found it painfully impossible to block out the sound of Isabela's deep and sultry voice as it floated through the cavern. "You know, Hawke, a girl could form an attachment for you."
"Unfortunately, girls don't interest me. Not in the way you're meaning."
"But I already have an attachment for you."
"Are we talking about what I think we're talking about?"
"It's back in my room, at the Hanged Man."
"Yup, we are."
"I'd like to show it to you, sometime. Think you'd be interested?"
"Ah, well, it's possible. I'll admit to some curiosity."
"It's a date, then. You, me, and Fabio."
"Fabio?"
A strangled sound came from Varric; either he was stifling a chuckle, or choking a cat in heat.
Isabela had to strain her neck to throw a disapproving look at him. "Hush, Varric. You have Bianca." She leaned back into Hawke's arms once more, sighing dreamily, "Leave me my Fabio."
"Maker, please, any moment now," Hrodwynn prayed, standing and dusting off her backside. She had gotten all she could into Aveline and turned back to Carver. "Hawke, set Isabela down gently. She'll pass out soon enough, and I need your help over here."
"Yes! I mean," he coughed, embarrassed over his eagerness, "Of course. Excuse me, Isabela."
"Until we're back in Kirkwall, my handsome Hawke," she vowed, her hand caressing his cheek before he could pull away.
"I'll, ah," Varric struggled to get the words out coherently, "I'll go stand watch. I need the fresh air, anyway." He strode off with Bianca in his hands, chortling merrily.
Hawke left Isabela sitting and mumbling a rather suggestive drinking song, and hastened over to Carver's side. "What can I do?"
"Help me get this off of him," she said, already working on the buckles of his vest. "The potion will do most of the work, but it'll go faster and leave less scarring if I can put some salve on the burns. To do that…"
"…You need access to all the skin."
"All my skin?" Carver asked, beginning to feel the effects of the potion. Though he'd taken a weaker one than Isabela, it was strong enough to numb the pain and relax his self-control. "That's… I don't mind, but… well, with my brother here…"
"Just your arm and shoulder," Hrodwynn assured him, feeling her cheeks burn at what he had been thinking. Damn those potions. She was going to have a stern talk with Anders when she got back, maybe devise a recipe that wasn't so… un-inhibiting. "But we've gotta get this vest off so I can put some salve on your wounds."
"Oh, ah, right, my shoulder," he nodded, and then looked to Hawke with a pleading expression on his face. "What about my chest?"
"Blast it, Carver!" he rolled his eyes for what seemed the tenth time that day. "You're concerned about that now? To think, last year you were finding every opportunity to show it off."
"Show what off?" Isabela wobbled curiously. "His first chest hair? Oh!"
Hrodwynn had to agree with her. "Oh!" If Carver had any chest hair, it was artfully concealed within a tattoo of a Mabari war hound. The tattoo was as massive as the animal it represented, covering the width of his chest from his collarbone to the waistband of his leggings. She had to pause and admire the artistry, the hound seeming to breath as he did, the eyes following her every movement.
"Ooh," crooned Isabela, squinting her eyes to bring it into focus, "Carver, can you make it…"
"Isabela," Hawke moaned, shooting her a warning look that she was too inebriated to notice, "Don't, just… don't."
"I can make it bark," he said with such a timidly hopeful look on his face that Hrodwynn almost—almost—broke out laughing.
"That's alright, Carver," she gestured for Hawke to hand her one of the jars of salve, "Another time. Let's get you healed first."
"Oh, right, forgot about that, what with the dragon and the fight and the potions and… all…" He smiled boyishly at her, "But you would like to see it bark, someday, maybe when we get back to Kirkwall?"
Isabela tittered, sounding too much like Merril. Merril, contrarily, was as silent as a lamb. Hawke groaned something under his breath, but Hrodwynn smiled at him placatingly. "Sure, Carver, when we get back to Kirkwall. Now hold still; this might sting a little." She dug her fingers into the jar, picking up a good amount of the goopy salve, and began dabbing it onto his burns.
He didn't flinch, instead closing his eyes and sighing, the Mabari looking like it was taking a deep breath.
"You've, ah," Hawke stopped talking as suddenly as he started. She glanced up from her work to see him swallow thickly, his face pale and sweaty. He looked about to sick up. "You've got this in hand, haven't you? I'll step outside, then, make sure we didn't leave gear or anything out by the dragon."
Hrodwynn let him go without comment, but she did watch him until he slipped through the opening and was out of sight. Then she returned her attention to her patients and finished tending them.
It was almost an hour later, after it had turned full night, before Hrodwynn got the chance to get some fresh air herself. She stepped outside, thankful for the gentle breeze blowing against the skin of her cheek, a welcome relief from the stuffy cavern air. When she opened her eyes, she saw Hawke standing at the far side of the pit, facing the corpse of the dragon. Varric was walking towards her, and after pausing a moment to exchange a few words, he nodded and continued his patrol. She looked back at Hawke, squared her shoulders, and set her steps towards him.
He didn't seem to notice her approach, so she spoke softly, intruding as gently as possible into his thoughts. "It looks smaller now."
He didn't make a sound, but he did turn his head slightly, cocking his ear towards her. She took it as in indication that it would be alright to keep talking.
"When I first saw this thing, it looked so big, I thought I'd be able to walk right into its nostril and not have to duck my head." She gave a little laugh. "But I'm taller than its head."
"Not by much."
She nodded, "Not by much."
"How is Merril?"
"She's fine," Hrodwynn stepped a little closer, encouraged by his question. "A little bruised, but that stone armor spell of hers kept her from getting too hurt. She was jittery is all. The dragon here scared her more than she wanted to admit, but she kept it together until after the fight. Then she let herself have a nice little breakdown. We talked for a bit before I gave her something to help her sleep; she'll be back to her old self by morning."
"And… Isabela?"
"Asleep. Finally," she added with a dramatic inflection. "Maker, but that woman has stamina." Hawke gave an agreeable sounding snort at that. "She drank enough of that potion to lay low three men. Too bad she won't have the hangover to match, to teach her a lesson."
"She's been taught that lesson several times before. If she hasn't learned it by now, she never will. What about…" he paused to scratch at the side of his nose, "What about Aveline?"
"No change, yet, other than the swelling's started to go down. I expect she'll sleep through the night." She gave another little laugh, "And when she wakes up, I bet she'll be grouchy she missed the end of the fight."
"So will Fenris," he agreed. "How is he?"
Hrodwynn took a deep breath, remembering the fear she felt when she saw him thrown by the dragon's tail. "Other than a few bruises, his leg was the worst of it. It was a bad break, but I think I got it set properly. Give it tonight and tomorrow to heal, and he should be able to walk on it the next day."
"We can't stay here that long."
"Then we'll have to carry him," she argued, "But he needs to keep his weight off that leg until the bone can heal properly, or he'll develop a limp."
Hawke scoffed at that, thinking she was exaggerating. "What about Varric?"
"Stubborn," she crossed her arms, shooting daggers at Hawke with her eyes, but he wouldn't look at her to see them. "He refuses to take a potion, saying that someone needs to keep their wits about them until everyone's on their feet again. But you already know how he's doing."
Hawke didn't comment, simply nodding before turning back to the dragon, seemingly dismissing her.
"You know, there's still one more person you haven't asked about," she prodded him.
Finally she got a reaction out of him, and immediately regretted it. Hawke lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the emotions swelling within him. "I… I couldn't…" he whispered, as if ashamed of the words. With a little trepidation, she closed the distance between them, setting her hand on his shoulder. He was trembling.
"I… I saw it happening," he lifted his face up, tears slipping from his eyes as he opened them, seeing again the horrifying events of the afternoon. "The dragon… breathing fire… Carver… and I was too far away… I couldn't… I couldn't protect him… it was like when Bethany… all over again… I was too far to reach him in time…"
"There was nothing you could've done," she said, trying to calm him, "Other than get yourself roasted in his place."
"Then I should've done that!" He finally faced her, and she saw that his eyes were bloodshot and his beard was damp from earlier tears. "He's my little brother. My responsibility! All his life, I've… I've…" his mouth moved a few times, the sounds trapped within his throat. He took a deep shuddering breath before he could continue. "I've watched over him his whole life, kept him out of trouble, kept him from getting hurt. I've been the best big brother I could. And he's been an insufferable, ungrateful, spoiled little brat about it! But, Maker help me, I do love him. Even when he's being a git! When I saw him fall, when it looked like he had died, I didn't think, 'What am I going to tell Mother?' I thought, 'What am I going to do without my baby brother?'"
Hrodwynn fought to hold back the tears of sympathy, not wanting Hawke to think she pitied him. But she did want him to know she cared. She put her hands on his shoulders, "He'll be fine, Hawke. The burn's healing and…"
"I've already lost my kid sister," he went on as if she hadn't spoken, "I can't lose my baby brother, too."
"You won't," she told him, squeezing his shoulders to gain his attention. When his eyes seemed to focus on her, she continued, "You won't lose Carver. He's fine. Sleeping peacefully. Doesn't even feel any pain. And by morning, his arm will look no worse than a bad sunburn. I promise you, Hawke, he'll be fine."
He stared at her a few moments, her words slowly penetrating his fears and reaching his brain. At last he nodded, sniffing and wiping off a tear. "Damn. Sorry, I… I don't usually blubber like that."
She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. "It's alright, I won't blackmail you with it or anything. I promise."
He gave a bark of laughter. "Somehow, I don't believe you." He did return the embrace, however.
Hrodwynn pulled her head back a little to look at his face. She had noticed his flinch when she first touched his back, and felt the rips in his coat and the stickiness on his skin. Seeing his expression confirmed her suspicions. "Hawke, are you hurt?"
He groaned, turning his face away and letting her go. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."
"A scratch?" she pushed, "From the dragon? Hawke, why didn't you say anything before? I've got to take a look at it." She tried to turn him around to where she could see, but he wouldn't budge.
"Ah, no, really," he leaned away from her, his hands raised, fingers spread wide as if to make a shield to ward her off, "It's fine, I'm nothing. I mean, it's nothing, I'm fine. Just a scratch."
"A scratch that could get infected. All that dirt and gore and shit under its nails, and those nails broke your skin and drew blood. By now those scratches are probably tender and inflamed."
"It wasn't… it didn't… shit, you're not going to back down, are you?" Seeing how she stood there, her arms crossed, her chin lifted stubbornly, he gave in. "Fine. But, let's go inside, away from Varric."
"That's where my kit is, anyway," she agreed, following him inside to where the others slept.
Hawke was oddly quiet as she bossed him around, positioning him to where she could clearly see in the lantern light and making him take off his coat. He refused to sit down, however, and when he took off his tunic and she got a good look at his back, she began to understand why. The scratch ran down his lower back to below the waist of his leggings. The fabric was sticky with half-dried blood, the mess completely covering one cheek.
"It's more than a scratch, isn't it?"
He didn't answer, he couldn't answer.
"Maker, Hawke, but you are impossible. Come on, drop your trousers and lie down on your front. You can keep your knickers on."
He laughed a little, due more to his embarrassment than anything humorous. "Strangely enough, I've heard that before, but usually with a bit more dirty talk beforehand."
"Shit," she breathed at his bluntness, "Strangely enough, I believe you." She walked away and busied herself at her pack, taking out what she thought she might need, letting him take care of matters. When it sounded like he was done moving around, she turned back, the sight nearly making her drop what she was holding. "How in the Fade did that happen?"
If he was blushing, his beard hid most of the evidence. For extra insurance, he turned his face to the wall as he answered, "When Fenris was struck down, and you came out to get him to safety, I… ah… well, the dragon was about to kill you. I hit it with a spell, taking its attention off of the two of you."
She moved the hem of his underpants out of the way, giving her a better view of the wounds. "I remember," she said, not wanting to think too long about that episode of momentary insanity. She gently dabbed the washrag around the puncture wounds.
"Yes, well, as you were getting away, the dragon started after me. Tagged me with its teeth before Aveline could regain its attention." He felt her pause, and sensed she had moved her hand away so he wouldn't feel her shaking. "Oh, damn it, girl, go ahead and laugh. A dragon wanted a piece of ass—my ass. Ha-ha."
She didn't make a sound. Her hand returned to her ministrations, as steady and gentle as before. He thought for a moment he had misjudged her and actually felt a twinge of guilt over it, prompting him to turn his head towards her. The apology died behind his lips, however, once he got a look at the poorly suppressed smirk on her face.
She caught his eye and had the decency to blush. "S…s…s…sorry!" She took a shaky breath before she was under control enough to speak without giggling, "I know I shouldn't laugh at your expense."
He gave in to his own chuckle, "Damn it, girl, you're as insufferable as Carver. But cuter!"
She winked at him. "I guess I like you, too, despite yourself. You want a potion for that?" She leaned away to stand up and return to her pack.
He sighed, pushing up to his knees to pull his leggings back up. "And leave you and Varric unchaperoned all night? Not on your life, my dear. I did promise to return you to Anders without a scratch on your head."
"Fine, but you'll be stiff and limping by morning."
"Again, something I've heard before."
"Maker!" she swore, tossing the soiled rag on the ground near her pack. "I need some air."
Hawke's laughter followed her outside.
A/N: damn, this chapter got long. Sorry, my dears. (And to think, I even left out the battle with the dragon, however much I love a good fight scene. Sigh, the sacrifices I make…) Well, I hope you didn't find it too long. Usually I'm the only one who complains about the length ;D *ahem*
Anywhoozies, I wanted to focus more on character development this chapter, especially the relationship between Hawke and Carver. And I simply had to add Hawke getting bitten in the ass by a dragon—such a visual!
