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Kirkwall hasn't changed. It's been years since he's visited, not many, but enough to make him think it may have mutated in some noticeable way in the time he had been gone away with the Wardens. Instead, he is met with the same foreboding chains, the same cobblestone streets, the same beggars and cut purses, the same people as before, some even greeting him by name.
"Carver!" Lady Elegant calls when he comes around the corner, face brightening. "How nice to see you. How have you been?"
"I am well, Lady Elegant, and glad to see you too."
"I have heard of your sister's disappearance." His face must give way to some sort of shock, and she quickly follows, "Word of the Champion travels quickly. She is well liked here."
"Of course she is," he sighs, choking down that all too familiar little sibling jealousy. He thought he had finally gotten over it. Apparently not.
"At any rate, I hope you find her soon. When you do, tell her she still owes me a drink."
"What for?" Carver can't help but ask. Usually it's Hawke finagling drinks out of others.
"For-" she stops herself, a cunning grin spreading over her face. "Oh, I don't think she would very much like me telling you that. Suffice it to say, I helped her with the flaming disaster that is her love life."
'Love life?!' He is still sputtering as he continues through the city, stopping at the small market place outside of the well-worn facade of the Hanged Man to browse rid himself of some of the odds and ends he's picked up on his way to the there, a habit he had undoubtedly inherited from his sister. His sister, who apparently has a love life? The thought bothers him deeply.
'It's that blasted elf, isn't it,' he fumes, as he waits for the weapons salesman to count out his coin. 'She was smitten with him immediately. Always Fenris this, Fenris that, oh look, he knows how to feed himself, how enchanting.' The shopkeeper spares him a wary glance, and Carver becomes aware of the fact that he must look half crazed, standing there in the middle of the market, simmering.
"Thank you," he mumbles, taking his money and leaving.
'He told her to shove off though, didn't he? Blighted bastard.' He remembers well how she had acted when the had ventured off to deal with the crazed Coterie when Corypheus was after them and their blood. She would stare at the stupid lanky elf when she thought he was looking, and he would watch her like she was the second coming of Andraste when her back was turned. Ridiculous. And he hadn't even figured out why until after, when they had returned to Kirkwall, and Varric had told him with all the hesitancy of one about to tell an Orlesian that their clothes were unsuited to the occasion. His sister is strong and smart and determined to do right by any and everyone, irritating about it, most of the time, but still his sister, and the thought of her being taken advantage of by anyone galls him. If the elf is responsible for her disappearance...
It's been only a few days since Gamlen sent him a letter to warn him, and surprisingly good luck that he had managed to receive it before his next venture into the Deep Roads. That man is usually useless, but it seems as if he's gotten better of late. He'd even mentioned something of a long lost cousin.
After a few seconds of deliberation, he makes for the tavern, noticing the interested glances of the women about town. That almost makes him forget what he was fuming about.
"Carver!" Corff calls, with the barest bit of appreciative inflection in his voice. "Long time no see. You owe me two sovereigns."
"I owed you two sovereigns last time I came in here," the Grey Warden responds, with a smirk, but he slaps the money on the counter and slides it to the barkeeper.
"Then stop drinking me out of business."
"I'll try," he laughs, shaking hands over the bar. "I'm looking for my sister's friends. Are they here?"
"Upstairs, first door, same as always. Heard about your sister by the way. Hope you find her soon."
"Me too. Thanks." With that, the barkeeper gives a final nod, and returns to his business while Carver turns and heads for the stairs, shouldering his way through the rowdy evening crowd.
The door to Varric's suite is closed, something he can't ever recall seeing. Inside, however, he can hear voices, low, furtive, and rough sounding. A voice he doesn't recognize rises over the others, "-still! Do you want me to poke your eyes out of your head? Because that's what's going to happen if you keep struggling."
Carver draws his sword, and creeps to the door, trying to hear what he can. More muted voices, and then one he knows well, Merrill.
"Oh, Fenris, you look next to death!"
That's all the confirmation he needs. Slamming the pommel of his sword into the handle of the door sends it flying open, and he bursts in, ready to attack. The scene he is greeted with gives him pause.
Merrill is the one he locates first, standing off to the side of a group of people, hands clasped over her mouth in shock. Beside her stands Isabela, perched over Fenris, who is sitting in a chair, and does indeed look like he's been beaten within an inch of his life. On the other side stands a man who looks familiar, but he cannot place the face at the moment, holding a palette of makeup. He doesn't very much look the cosmetician, dressed in white armor with a bow slung across his back. Across the room, Varric is holding Bianca at the ready, pointing her at him, confusion scrawled across his face. Aveline, too, has drawn her sword, stance defensive, but face uncomprehending.
"Carver?" Merrill asks, after they've all stared at each other for a sufficiently uncomfortable amount of time.
From a side room, someone bursts in with a flare of blue-white magic, and it takes a moment to realize that it is Anders, baring far more flesh than he would ever be comfortable seeing. He resists the urge to fling his gauntlet covered forearm over his eyes shielding him from the mage's exposed chest, which seems so much more lewd than it should with the robes that he's wearing.
"What's going on?" Anders asks, looking somehow deadly and ridiculous at the same time, then he too takes in the scene and standing baffled in the doorway, light fading.
"Carver?" he asks, eyebrows arching.
"That's what I said," Merrill smiles, the only one not looking at him like they're moments from murder.
"Didn't anyone every teach you how to knock, kid?" Varric asks, a tinge of genuine anger in his voice. "Maker's breath, I nearly put a bolt through your thick head!"
"I thought-" Carver begins, fumbling under the embarrassment of his hasty action. "I thought I heard trouble. The door was shut! You never shut the door! And who in the Void is this?" he demands, gesturing to the white armored archer, who glances around the room as if to ensure he is the one being referred to.
"I am Sebastian Vael, of Starkhaven " he answers, giving a bow. "I remember you. You're Hawke's younger brother."
"And why are you dressed like a prostitute from the Blooming Rose?!" he wheels on Anders, who covers his bare chest defensively. "My sister's missing and you're throwing a costume party?!"
"We're not, really!" Merrill denies, waving her hands, "I know it looks silly, but we're trying to help Hawke!"
"I won't even ask what it is you're trying to attempt here," he continues, casting a glance at Fenris, who is now standing, face stormy.
"Will you shut up?" Aveline hisses, sheathing her blade. "If you don't keep your voice down you could screw this up." He sheathes his blade as well, Varric replaces Bianca on his back, and Anders sets his staff against a wall.
"We found out that your sister may have been taken by slavers. We're preparing to meet with them in disguise, pretending to be a potential seller."
Gradually, his anger fades. "Oh."
"That's why we're getting an eyeful from Messere Magister over there," Isabela speaks up, grinning. "Who knew he was so muscular?"
"Would you quit it?" Anders hisses under his breath, crossing his arms and hunching over.
"Nice to see you, by the way," she adds, winking at him. "You want to help? More's the merrier."
"Of course I do. What kind of a question is that? What are we doing?"
Varric informs him of the plan and makes the necessary changes to ensure they can cover the field evenly.
"Glad to have you here, kid," the dwarf admits as everyone gathers their gear. Isabela is sharpening a small dagger for Merrill, speaking to her about how to properly use it, should any enemy get past her magical defenses.
"It's just not a party till there's a Hawke at the helm, right?" he asks with a bit of a laugh. Varric snorts. "Something like that. Well that and you hold your liquor better than your sister." Anders is still hunched over in the corner, frowning. Fenris is opposite him, doing much the same.
"Glad to see those two have gotten so much chummier since I left."
"They nearly tore each others' heads off the other day. It's been a lot of fun since she went missing. Like babysitting children."
"And it's been three weeks now?" he asks, brow furrowed.
"Just about. I have a good feeling about this meeting, though. I think they'll be able to tell us what we need to know."
"Let's hope."
"Daisy's real happy to see you," Varric mentions, and Carver looks over to her, only to find she is gazing at him. She blushes and turns away, taking a dagger from Isabela, as well as a reprimand for not paying attention.
"Huh, really?" He doesn't even notice the dwarf grinning at him, just the pretty blushing girl, who brushes her black hair behind her ear. Which he notes has gotten longer since he last saw her.
"We should go now," Aveline announces, over the Chantry bells. "It's time."
"It would have to be Darktown," Isabela laments as they all gather and leave the Hanged Man."I hate Darktown. Very unwelcoming."
"And yet I can't get you to keep away," Anders comments, adjusting his robes again.
"Must be what you've been hiding under all those feathers." Her flirtatious comments earn her a frown.
"We'll not be traveling all together. Sebastian and Isabela will go ahead, then Carver and Merrill. Fenris, Anders, you'll go in next, and I'll take up the flank with Varric."
"Everyone be cautious. If we don't do this right, we may loose the chance to track her."
"No pressure, though," Carver murmurs. Fenris hands him his great sword, and then after an approving nod, allows himself to be shackled by Aveline, who then hands the chain to a very uncomfortable looking Anders.
"Right then. Let's get this over with," he urges.
"Oh, you must be cold," Isabela laughs, drawing a finger over the mage's chest as she walks away.
He mumbles a curse.
Carver and Merrill break away from the group next, moving quickly through the streets to the Undercity. On the way, a pair of muggers apparently missed by Sebastian and Isabela attempt to jump them. He doesn't even get the chance to draw his sword by the time Merrill has firmly cemented them to a wall in a dark alley.
"That will make them think twice," she announces, continuing on her way.
"That was impressive," he comments, as they leave the would be robbers behind them, out of sight.
"Oh? Thank you! Hawke and I have been practicing different primal magic spells."
"I noticed you aren't...ah..."
"Not using blood magic anymore?" She doesn't mince words.
"Yes."
"I stopped when I realized that it did more to hinder than to help me. And my clan. Everyone really."
"I'm doubly impressed," he admits. "I worried about you messing around with that stuff." She smiles at him. And he feels a blush rising to his cheeks. "Ah, I just meant, you know, blood magic is dangerous. My father always told us it was bad. So, I'm glad you aren't using it anymore, because I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." Damn it, why does he sound like such a blighted moron speaking to her?
To his surprise, she laughs, light and airy. "Thank you Carver. I didn't know you cared." He cringes at his own foolishness, but at least she isn't offended.
"Right. Well. We're almost there. Better keep it down," he warns, and she nods. They seamlessly move into the shadows, Merrill casting some illusory spell over them to better their camouflage. Across from them, he can see the pirate and the ex prince in their hiding spot, barely visible when looking for them, let alone if not. The two spot them, and Isabela gives them a thumbs up with a big smile. Soon after, Aveline and Varric take their place, forming a triangle around the open, abandoned corridor in the underground. Finally, Anders and Fenris approach, apparently talking. Or arguing.
"I hope they don't start fighting again," Merrill whispers.
"They won't," he assures her, "Or I'll kill them both."
All is agonizingly quiet for a few minutes. Merrill crouches beside him in the shadows, her arm pressed against his. He tries not to focus on her proximity, but instead on keeping an eye out. After quite a wait, a sign finally appears. A mage in thick, velvet robes steps into the clearing, in front of Anders and Fenris.
"As promised," Anders offers, tugging on the chain a little. Fenris growls, at him, and he wonders how much of this is acting.
"Oh, the bounty on this one is legendary, you know," the slaver mage speaks.
"I know. Couldn't believe how lucky I was to catch him. And, as I said, half the bounty is yours, for finders fee."
"You're very generous, serah," the slaver nods gratefully. Another, in armor steps forward, with a large sack of jingling sovereigns. "Are you ready to exchange?"
"Of course," Anders answered, looking deceptively calm about the whole transaction. He may not be over fond of the mage, but he knows the man would never do this. "The sooner I am rid of him, the better. You can see how troublesome he's been."
"That I can!" laughs the slaver. "I hope you haven't damaged the goods too much."
"Oh, nothing that can't be fixed." For a moment, Carver imagines what would happen if his sister were to show up at this moment. Hilarious and horrifying, all at once. That would be entertaining.
"Very well then, the money.' The robed slaver gestures for the other to bring forward the money for Anders to peruse.
"Tell me, this is the best catch you've ever had, right?"
"Maybe."
"Oh? What's the competition?"
The slaver looks at his silent companion with a grin. "Well, this is a secret, so don't go round letting it be known, but not too long ago, I captured the Champion of Kirkwall. Sold her to a magister for a great price. Best haul I've ever had with one slave."
"The Champion of Kirkwall? You've got to be joking. How'd you manage that?"
"Spiked an arrow with Magebane. She was down before the count of five."
"Magebane," Merrill echoes quietly, shaking her head. "Hawke would have never had a chance against that. But it's so difficult to acquire."
"That's incredible. Was it a bounty job?" Anders continues. The slaver holding the money is starting to look suspicious, checking over his shoulder, and nudging the other, who continues to brag to Anders.
"It was. A well known Magister said capture her and we could name our price."
"A well known Magister?" Anders asks. "Who wanted-"
"Enough questions," the other slaver demands, stepping forward and brandishing the money, hand hovering over his weapon.
"Yes," the slaver mage agrees, "it's time that you-urk!"
Both the slavers fall the the ground, torn apart savagely by Anders and Fenris' magic and bare hands, respectively, before the words can finish echoing off the cavernous walls of the Undercity.
"Here we go!" He can hear Varric calling out, sending volleys of explosive arrows into the approaching slavers, appearing as if out of thin air, sending body parts in every direction. He is joined by Sebastian, Anders, and Merrill, who all attack from the periphery of the battlefield.
"Someone needs a good spanking!" Isabela laughs, ducking and weaving in the throng of enemies. He jumps into the fray with Aveline and Fenris in the center of it all, tossing the elf his sword, and cutting the rest of the scum down with intense brutality. By the time they are finished, there is nothing left of their opponents but gored bodies, and everyone is covered in blood.
"That confirms it, then. You could have held off on killing them until we had more information, though," chides Aveline.
"They were starting to get suspicious. I didn't want to give them the advantage," Anders explains, removing his regular coat from his pack and throwing it on over the ridiculous robes.
"He's right," Fenris agrees, casting the manacles on the ground. "If we had given them more time, the more intelligent of the two might have sent for back up. As it is, we should probably leave now, before more come."
"Then let's not waste time," Carver adds, repressing the surprise he, and surely everyone else is undoubtedly experiencing at the two of them agreeing on anything, and they leave, keeping an eye for any strays.
Author's Note: Okay, I know it probably wasn't accurate, but I really, really wanted Anders to show up to this whole deal in those cut-away window robes from DA:O. Lifelong dream. I sincerly apologize.
Hope you guys are doing well! I'm spacing out my updates a little more so I don't flood your inboxes.
Sabrijela: Thank you so much for your review! I feel honored:D
Nezumi: Ah, I'm glad you're still here! Thank you very much!
shelby147: Thank you for saying so! You're encouragement is priceless:) I'm so glad you've been enjoying it!
In case I don't say it enough, I appreciate each and every single one of you.
Soon to come: Hawke doesn't get paid enough for this, honestly. Stay tuned!