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"This is it," Varric breathes, his voice stark against the levity of the party inside. He and his companions, or rather, fellow party goers have congregated just outside the entrance, preparing to enter the party proper. He sees a muscle in Sebastian's jaw twitches while smooths his embroidered shirt, looking very noble, and very stern. Anders reaches to run a hand through his hair only to stop short so as not to mess it up, and makes do with shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, thankfully not the one with the chest window from before. Primus watches the entrance, steely eyed, while the praesumptor fades in and out of the shadows of the courtyard.
"Last chance," Anders mumbles.
Sebastian shoots him a look. "There's no need to be so dire. This is a rescue mission, not an execution."
"If you are careful," the praesumptor warns, disappearing from view for a few seconds, and then reappearing just a couple paces away.
"We will be," assures Varric, hoping his confidence will rub off on them all.
"Hawke's life depends on it," Sebastian sees fit to remind them even though they are all undoubtedly very aware of the fact.
Anders huffs, sliding his feathered costume mask down over his face. "No pressure, though."
"Now," Primus indicates, spotting spotting a break queue, launching for the entrance. The two humans guards wave in the guests in front of them, and the approaching party forward.
"Invitations?" one guard asks, holding his hand out. One by one they hand in their invitations, and wait his scrutiny. And Maker be praised, he waves them through with obvious disinterest and a half hearted "Enjoy your evening."
Once inside they breathe a collective sigh of relief. Varric works his face into some semblance of an inviting smile. "See? Nothing to worry about. Now all we need to do is find Hawke and we'll sneak her out of here before anyone has noticed."
The party is bright, practically blinding. Men and women mingle in well dressed clumps, laughing and sipping tall glasses of wine. Lights float above them, propelled by magic no doubt. Ivy wrapped pillars support the deep blue tapestry roof, with flecks of silver to give the appearance of the night sky. Elven slaves dressed in matching uniforms flit back and forth through the crowd, heads down. It's hard to imagine Fenris, proud, strong warrior that he is as one of these elves, bending neck and knee to a master.
"I will go locate her," their hidden friend tells them, whisper barely heard over the chatter.
Primus gestures off to the long corridors of the estate. "Hurry, Sollemnia. Once you find her, we'll create some sort of distraction, and then we'll we retrieve her."
"As you say," she responds, and then flickers, disappearing again.
"What now?" Sebastian asks out of the side of his mouth, offering a bright, albeit a forced smile at a passing group of young ladies, who bat their eyelashes under their gemstone encrusted masks.
"We mingle," Primus sighs, waving them out onto the floor. Anders grabs a flute of champagne off a passing server's tray and downs the thing in a single breath. "Let's do this."
They have no trouble attracting attention. The group of women from before are quick to flock around them, all heaving bosoms and coquettish grins.
"Usually Magister Danarius holds such lavish parties, but I didn't expect such handsome men to be in attendance," the tallest one flirts, twining her arm with Anders, who's sweating harder than a maleficar in a chantry. "I can't recall ever having seen any of you before, except you, Primus," she smirks at him momentarily, and Varric senses a story lingering, some old embarrassment. "Who are your comely friends?"
"Investors... in my up and coming business," Primus answers, a surprisingly good liar.
"How interesting," a pale blonde answers, obviously more interested in Sebastian, hanging on his arm, playing with the strap of his mask. "And how fortunate for us. Not only are we treated to such good company, but the evening promises to be interesting indeed."
"How so?" Anders asks, as he tries his hardest not to flinch away from the lady magister eyeing him.
"Danarius is showing off his latest conquest tonight. He claims he enslaved the Champion of Kirkwall."
The men share a collective grim glance, unnoticed by the women.
"And he's going to reveal her tonight?" Varric ventures, hoping he sounds convincingly cool.
"Oh, yes," the tall one answers, "He always entertains with his new conquests. Remember the one he had, the one with the white hair? Mm, he was so beautiful..." The men's masks can't hide their sneers. It looks like both Sebastian and Anders are fighting to not throw off their admirers.
Primus' attention turns to a corner, a table laden with delicacies. For a moment he watches, and then nods almost imperceptibly. "If you will excuse me for a moment," he says, bowing curtly and turning to leave. None of the women seem to notice. Varric moves to follow, throwing an excuse, and a sympathetic glance over his shoulder at his friends.
"You found her?" Primus whispers, turning his head to Varric as if they are engaging in conversation. Sollemnia answers, sounding breathless. "She was not where she was supposed to be."
"Where is Danarius?" Primus asks.
"I do not know. I could find neither."
"That is the polar opposite of 'good'," interjects Varric. "Where would they be-"
"My guests, friends, may I have your attention please?" A resounding voice calls out over the large room, reverberating. All heads turn to the source.
"Danarius," Primus hisses.
"I am pleased to see you all here tonight." The crowd claps politely, smiles ravenous. Sebastian and Anders take advantage to slip away from their admirers, joining Varric, Primus, and Sollemnia by the refreshment table. "What's going on?" Anders asks sotto voce, gesturing to the magister.
"The main attraction," Sollemnia answers gravely. "Look."
Varric can't believe what he's seeing for a second. A moment where he doubts his own perception, because surely that can't be Hawke up their on that stage.
"No!" Anders gasps.
"By the Maker," Sebastian utters, "This..." He can't even finish his sentence.
Hawke walks a few paces behind magister Danarius, head high, stare intense and unblinking as she assesses the crowd. The usual quirk of her lips is gone, and her eyes are dark and sunken. Aside from that, she looks mostly unharmed, no visible bruises or scars, at least not beneath the wave of shining black hair that surrounds her face. She wears armor much like Fenris', but modified for a mage, imposing and fearful looking. And around her neck is a large, shining collar with runes around the circumference and attached to a chain, which she is dragged along by.
"I present, Aleka Hawke; Champion of Kirkwall."
The crowd goes wild, tittering shock and loud applause, unabashed catcalling even. Danarius grins; Hawke remains stony and cold. It's so unlike her. There's no doubt that it's Hawke standing up on the stage, but she's completely different than the cheerful, snickering woman he knows.
"She was difficult to subdue, very willful, but ultimately very much worth it. As you all know, she is responsible for the death of the Arishok. To have her in my possession is a massive blow to Qunari morale."
"You think of everything, Danarius!" one spectator calls out.
"Not everything," Primus mumbles through gritted teeth.
"But I did not bring her out simply for you to ogle her." Scattered laughter. "As I said, I have an important announcement to make."
"Will you be loaning her out for the night?" A woman calls, earning more laughter and some hoots.
"I'll pay!" Another guest calls, waving his hand.
"I cannot allow this," Anders grits out, sparks of Fade alighting on his skin.
Varric panics a little. Really not the best time for a light show."Blondie, you've got to keep it together. If you go nuts right now we might not get out of here alive. Hawke might not get out of here alive. She needs you to stay in control."
Anders crushes his hands into white-knuckled fists, taking deep breaths. "I am in control," he tells himself.
Danarius continues, "As you all know, I have been perfecting the process of creating lyrium warriors..."
Primus shoots Sollemnia a look. "Lyrium warrior? He can't mean-"
"I invite you all to view my success tomorrow evening. I will make the once proud protector of Kirkwall my own, personal lyrium warrior."
The applause rings hollow as Varric watches Hawke react, showing the first true emotion of the evening on her face. Surprise. Horror. Rage. She bares her teeth, and spins around, as if looking for an escape.
"What is she-" Sebastian starts, stepping forward, but Primus grasps his arm, holding him back, as Hawke lunges for a knife, a piece of silverware on a nearby table. Quick as a flash she's upon Danarius, aiming for his throat.
With a flick of the wrist, he freezes her in place, arm still poised for attack, face still contorted with fury, which morphs into sickened shock as she finds she cannot move.
Sebastian tries to break away again. "He's going to kill her! We have to-"
"No, he's not, just wait," Primus tells him. Anders is still tenuously holding onto control, standing ramrod straight.
"As you can see, she gets a little fussy when I keep her up past her bed time." More laughter, though a little more uncomfortable sounding.
"If you will excuse us, please enjoy the rest of your night. I hope to see you all next evening." Another flick of the wrist and she drops the knife, leaving it to clatter across the floor as she stiffly follows him out of sight.
"Our time table has just been moved up," Sollemnia tells them, shrinking away from the light as the crowd begins to disperse, discussing animatedly. "A change of plan is in order."
"We have to get her out, now!" emphasizes Anders, having calmed some.
"We can't do it by ourselves," Primus shakes his head. "The guests will leave, to other parts of the estate for the night. Once they're out of the way, we can go after Hawke, but we will still have to face Danarius and his forces."
"I am the fastest. I can go retrieve your friends," Sollemnia addresses Varric.
"Then go, quickly. Make sure they bring our weapons."
She leaves promptly, melting into the darkness.
Anders speaks with obvious agitation. "If Danarius goes through with this-"
"I know, Blondie. She gets scrambled. Like Fenris was."
"That's not happening," Sebastian tells them, determination intermingled with trepidation. "It's... it's not."
Author's Note: Uh oh, Hawke's in trouble now. Question time: On a scale of one to ten, just how much do you hate Danarius?
AmberJF: Oh my goodness your reviews killed me I'm dead your compliments were too much for my poor heart to take. "BLASTS DANARIUS' EYEBALLS OUT THE BACK OF HIS BRAIN WITH BLAZING FIREBALLS" has to be he best method of death I have ever heard. I love it. Definitely going to have to try to work that in somehow.
Knifeinthedarkness: Stab him a few hundred times? That's excellent! I think they'll turn him into Swiss cheese once given the chance. Anders breaks my heart too, but I'll never stop loving him, even in spite of his penchant for iconoclasm.
IDRKIt'sme: Yeah, Danarius is the whole package, huh? The only way I could make him worse is if I made him wear socks and sandals or something. And I really like the concept of the separate endings! I don't want to give you any spoilers, but the ending I had in plan is mildly bittersweet, but I'm considering writing one in which everything that could go wrong, does. Thank you!
colecompassion: Ah! An account just to follow this story? I'm not worthy! I'm blushing so hard right now.
MC: Awesome! As is the case with a lot of characters, he just sort of grew from the few glimpses I got of him. I didn't even plan for him to be this terrible! He was really much more benign, even a little misunderstood (as I imagine growing up in a place like Tevinter might unhinge some people), but he just went full creepwad once I let him loose. I hope that doesn't say anything about me! *sweating*
This chapter is for you guys desperate for an update!
Next Chapter: It's just gonna get worse that's really all I have to say.