Atonement
By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)
Part Two
Natale hated cities.
Yes, it was easy to get lost in the crowds. Yes, they could blend in with other travelers and refugees. But in the cities, the tales were the tallest, and the tongues were the loosest. One mistake on her part could bring the whole of the city guard-and eventually the templars-down upon their heads.
She wrapped a scarf around her distinctive platinum blonde hair as she, Anders, and Calenhad picked their way through the crowded streets of Ostwick. She could hear the vendors hawking their wares, smell the early morning street food, and a terrible wave of homesickness for Kirkwall made her pause.
The Lowtown bazaar. Breakfast with Isabela and Varric at the Hanged Man. A bottle of Denarius's fine wine with Fenris in the evenings. Natale bit her lip and hid her face inside her cloak hood, only to feel Anders' hand on her shoulder.
He'd noticed. He always noticed. He took her hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze. Natale squared her shoulders and smiled up at him, squeezing back.
"Copper for a lead, miss? Copper, sir?" A young girl with dirty blonde pigtails darted in front of Anders, almost underfoot. He stopped himself at the last moment from crashing into her.
Natale looked down at the girl and thought for a moment. They weren't exactly pressed for time, but the sooner she was out of the crowds, the happier she would be. It was time to call upon an old acquaintance to pay back her debt. She jingled the coins in her pocket and smiled at the girl.
"Get us to the bazaar just outside the alienage around the guards, and it'll be three," she said. The urchin gave her a quick grin, then took off into the crowd, Natale and Anders following in her wake.
Anders raised an eyebrow at her. "What exactly are you planning?" he asked as he narrowly dodged a mother with two children in her arms.
"I'm calling in a favor," she said tersely. He looked like he wanted to ask more, but she shook her head. Now was not the time. The urchin zigzagged through Ostwick's streets, which grew narrower as the buildings became taller and more ramshackle. Natale wrinkled her nose, neatly sidestepping the sewage and garbage on the sides of the street.
The crowds thinned out a little in Ostwick's slums before the alley opened up into a small but bustling bazaar with mostly elven merchants in front of the walls of the alienage. Anders dropped three coppers into the blonde girl's palm, watching her disappear again into the crowd with a quick wave.
"Natale...not that this isn't lively, but why are we here?"
She ignored him. Instead, she knelt and whispered an order into Calenhad's ear. The mabari left her side to stand next to Anders, who was watching her with increased suspicion.
"We'll need some supplies," she said over the hubbub. "Keep an eye on your coinpurse, and keep Calenhad with you. I'll be just a moment."
"Trust me," she added. And implicitly, he did. She watched him walk away to one of the stalls, Calenhad on his heels.
The third house on the left of the flower stall, with the small lion-mouthed knocker. She moved up to the door and rapped softly. "Ella?"
A pair of large brown eyes peeked out at her through a crack in the door. "It's you!" And before Natale could blink, Ella threw her arms around the former Champion, travel-worn armor and all, and all but dragged her into the dim little room. Natale kicked the door closed behind her, smiling in spite of herself.
"You were expecting someone else?" she asked, gently prying Ella's arms off her neck.
"I was afraid that it might be some kind of trick," said the girl. She snapped her fingers, and slim tapers in the hallway shed light on her anxious, round face. She looked stronger, healthier than when Natale rescued her from Alrik's men over four years ago.
Natale followed Ella down the hallway into a cramped but clean kitchen, watching the girl shut the curtains and light candles. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know I've put you in terrible danger by coming here."
Ella gave her a smile, such a sweet and trusting smile that Natale had to turn her face to hide her guilt. "I owe you my life...my freedom. If there's anything I can do for you, I'll do it."
Natale sighed and got to her feet. It was time to put that promise to the test. "Then wait here," she said. "There's someone else with me, and we both need safe harbor." She got to her feet and opened the front door, only to find herself face-to-face with Anders.
He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at her. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice if you disappeared into some random house?" he said.
Natale glared at Calenhad, who tipped his head at her and whined softly. Apparently keeping Anders off of her was a bit of a tall order for a mabari faced with a determined apostate. She sighed and rubbed her temples, bracing for the worst.
"Anders, I..."
Footsteps behind her, then silence. No one breathed. No one moved.
Then Ella said in a trembling but clear voice, "Come in. Please." The door closed behind Anders, who looked down at Natale with stricken eyes.
"It's all right," she said soothingly, knowing it never would be. She led a dazed and unresisting Anders back into the kitchen by the hand, pushing him into a chair and opting to stand herself. Ella's large, frightened eyes darted from her to Anders and back again.
"It's all right," repeated Natale. She found herself once again faced with the same terrified girl she'd rescued so many years ago below the Gallows. She moved to place herself between Anders and Ella, but to her astonishment, Ella stepped around her.
Anders turned away, but Ella knelt next to him until he had no choice but to meet her eyes. She looked him straight in the face for almost a minute, neither of them moving. Natale held her breath, her heart pounding in her throat.
Then Ella reached out and tentatively touched his hand. Anders flinched and closed his eyes, tears starting to trickle down his face. He reached up to wipe them away, but Ella took his other hand. "Just a man," she whispered, echoing Natale's words from years ago.
When she finally stood up, her eyes were also wet. She bustled about making them some tea, and Natale felt a bit of the dread leave her stomach. She walked over to Anders and placed a kiss on his forehead, feeling him tremble against her skin.
When she'd found her voice again, Natale said, "Have you any news?"
Ella didn't need to ask what she was referring to. "More templars came into the city two weeks ago, but...I'm not sure what happened. Some of them tried to kill the others, then fled the city."
"A schism? Within the templars?" said Natale incredulously. "I thought they'd at least be united in trying to kill us all."
The girl shook her head. "I don't rightly know. I've been trying to keep out of the trouble as best I can. The Circle-the former Circle-has been free of the templars for a few months now, and the city guard's given up on trying to take them in. They...they kill anyone who tries."
"That's good news. Ostwick is probably safer for the moment than Kirkwall." She took the hot kettle from Ella, whose trembling hands were making the lid shake. Natale poured them three cups, then began pacing Ella's tiny kitchen, musing over this new piece of information.
The Ostwick Circle was free. That was progress, visible progress. But she couldn't seek safe haven there. It would be a fine thing to inspire her fellow mages to rebellion, only to bring Sebastian's men down upon their heads. There was bloodshed aplenty without her using anyone as a human shield.
She needed to send a message to Sebastian, and a clear one. Killing his men while she and Anders fled to Ostwick hadn't been enough. She took a sip of her tea, peeking through the gap in Ella's curtains.
Ostwick's Chantry rose up on the side of the hill opposite the Alienage, all warm wood and golden leaf. A smile spread across Natale Hawke's face.
She knew what must be done.
"Your Highness, I beg you, do not do this!"
Sebastian ignored Captain Alrain and continued through Ostwick's docks district, pausing only to string his bow and check his arrows. He took his time, selecting the sharpest, the most balanced among his quiver. Maker willing, that arrow would pierce Anders' throat before nightfall.
"Sire-"
"The alienage is abuzz with rumors of a healer coming to Ostwick three days ago. Do you honestly expect me to just let this go?" His captain's protests fell on deaf ears; the citizens of Ostwick scattered, staring at the man in white armor at the head of a contingent of Starkhaven's finest soldiers.
He'd deal with the political fallout for marching his men straight through Ostwick's gates later. His captain's concerns could wait. Sebastian emerged from the narrow alleyways into the bazaar outside the alienage, blinking at the suddenly bright light.
There. A flash of platinum hair. Before the captain could stop him, Sebastian nocked an arrow and took aim.
He realized too late that it was a setup. Hawke ducked, and his arrow flew past her, straight into the shoulder of one of the merchants. The man froze, huge elven eyes staring at him in horror as he slumped against his cart. The whole bazaar fell silent.
For an instant, he and Hawke locked eyes. Then with two bolts of lightning, she shattered the silence.
Screams erupted around them-two of his men hit the ground with a sickening thud, and Sebastian saw Hawke slipping through the frantic, panicked crowd. He felt Captain Alrain tugging on his arm, trying to pull him back into the alley.
"Your Highness! It's not safe here, we must-"
Sebastian never heard the rest of the sentence. He ripped himself free of Alrain's grasp and took off after Hawke, shoving his way heedlessly through the crowd. Hawke vanished down an alley, and Sebastian gave chase, nocking another arrow as he went.
The buildings were tall and narrow, blocking out the light, but his vengeance gave him focus. This arrow flew truer, leaving a long bloody gash down her left arm. She grunted with pain, but the next thing Sebastian knew, he was on his knees, his whole body wracked with convulsions.
Blood flew from her wounds and wrapped around him like a living skin. Sebastian vaguely heard the yells of his soldiers, but their arrows hit nothing but wood as she turned and fled again. Most of them took off after her, but Captain Alrain remained at his side, trying to pull Sebastian to his feet even though his legs would not obey.
"Go," he managed to choke, spitting out a mouthful of blood. His joints twisted and spasmed, each motion bringing a fresh wave of agony. "I want her dead."
And when the older Captain of Starkhaven whose family had served generations of Vaels hesitated, Sebastian whispered, "That's an order."
Hail Andraste, Bride of the Maker. I will walk in her light. For blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and do not falter.
Slowly, his limbs came under his control once more, and the phantom pains that wracked his body began to fade. Sebastian pushed himself to his feet.
It wasn't hard following her trail. The bodies of his soldiers and civilians alike lay scattered in her wake. It wasn't until he saw the terror in the eyes of the whispering bystanders that he looked down at the body of a young woman lying on an abandoned doorstep.
She had long silvery hair, just like Hawke. And a Starkhaven arrow lodged in her throat.
"No," Sebastian whispered. She was still warm to the touch. "No!"
A few of his men lay not twenty feet from her, slain with blood magic. He knew what Hawke was doing. And it sickened him to the core...because try as he might to think otherwise, she was right.
He looked at himself, reflected in the woman's dead brown eyes. He did this to her. He told his men to kill Hawke. He sent them after her. Every action had a consequence. He could not have pushed, and expected her not to push back with all the terrible ruthlessness she could muster.
He could almost hear her voice in his head, see the little half-smile she'd worn all those years ago. Walk away, Sebastian, she whispered. Turn back.
But there was no turning back. Wherever she was, Anders could not be far away. And he had a score to settle with her too. For all the men she'd killed, all the innocents she'd placed in his path. Sebastian got to his feet and followed the trail of bodies through the terrified crowd-from the docks of Ostwick to the steps of its Chantry.
Natale Hawke was not usually the praying type. But this time, she prayed that Anders hadn't come off all noble at the last minute and stuck around. Sebastian was now gunning for her, and she intended to keep it that way.
She watched as he approached the Chantry's steps. Watched his eyes widen when she held a knife to his captain, slumped at her feet. And waited calmly when he pointed an arrow at her heart.
"A life for a life, Sebastian," she said quietly. "Do you want to be responsible for his death on holy ground?" She smiled and strapped her staff to her back. The long, hideous gash down her arm still bled, and for all her blood magic, the arrow's poison was working its way slowly into her system. She needed Anders' help soon. But she had to give Sebastian one last chance to turn away.
For old times' sake.
Natale spread her bloody hands in a gesture of peace. "Put down your bow, Sebastian."
"And we'll kill each other like civilized people?" he spat. "You're a monster, Hawke."
"You pushed," she said gravely.
Cold grey eyes met blue, and slowly, Sebastian lowered his bow. Natale nudged the captain's body with her foot, sending him rolling down the steps toward his prince. Sebastian knelt to catch him, and she struck.
He reacted instantly, drawing a knife from his belt and flinging it at her. But his arms turned to lead as he threw, and the blade went wide, sticking in her shoulder. Natale swore as the pain broke her concentration, and Sebastian scrambled to his feet.
His next two arrows went wide as he struggled against the failing spell. It was all the time she needed. Natale reached for her staff and a wave of force emanated from the glowing end, knocking Sebastian off his feet. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the poison in her blood and the agony in her shoulder.
This time, it took. Blood magic bound him fast at the foot of the Chantry, lying next to the captain, who was stirring slightly now. She had to be quick. Sebastian's eyes were all that moved, staring up at her with horror and hate. A little more blood magic pulled some of the life from his captain into her, and she yanked Sebastian's knife from her flesh.
"Whatever you may believe," she said, laying his knife on his chest, "I do not wish your death. Or the deaths of so many innocents, and so many of your men."
He would live-they both would. The city guard would come, and the Chantry sisters once they stopped wetting themselves. She got to her feet, looking down at her former friend, and couldn't help but pity him. Once, not so long ago, this was all just a bad dream.
"Go home, Sebastian," she called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Before you do something we'll all regret.