Disclaimer: well, I checked with my therapist, and it turns out that my owning the rights to dragon age was all a dream. I really am just another broke fanfiction writer on the internet.
A/N: so, Varric was feeling vociferous this chapter, and made me bump the rating up to T. It SHOULDN'T go higher than that...but I promise nothing.
Enjoy!
Odd Couple
Part 2: Bait and Switch Part 2 (Or Elf's got Issues)
It was weird being in Hightown at Oh Dark Thirty in the morning. Well, maybe weird was the wrong word. Really Stupid probably fit the bill better, honestly. Pickpockets were small-time at night, after all. Yet here we were, outside a dark mansion, covered in blood from both the bounty hunters in the alienage, and from a fresh group of thugs in the Courtyard outside the Viscount's Keep. Where do these jokers keep coming from? And how do they not break their ankles jumping from rooftops like they do?
Though, it looks like they kept the elf entertained while we were coming here. Though, looking at the bodies laid around Fernis' feet, I can't help but once more wonder what the hell we were doing there.
The elf turns around, trying to act natural, I think, but just looks tired, poor kid. If he's been hunted as mercilessly as he's implied, I can't help but sympathize. Even so, he straightens, and starts in on how we need to be "cautious" going after this magister-guy.
Like that wasn't obvious, Elf.
And of course, ten minutes later, the kid runs off yelling the top of his lungs for "Danarius" (humans have the weirdest names) to come out and face him.
You know that sympathy I mentioned earlier? Forget I said anything.
Honestly, when you've got even Hawke looking at you like you're an idiot, you probably ought to rethink your life. Just saying.
Anyway, me, Hawke, and Junior look at the elf's retreating figure, look at each other, and then run off after him, telling him to wait up. So much for being cautious. Though we do eventually catch back up with the elf, and I get my first real look at demons.
They were…gross, really; kinda like how I always imagine ghouls looked like. Smoke and shadow, cutting steel and oozing slime. And they were swarming all over the elf, despite the kid's attempts to keep them back, still yelling his bloody head off for Danarius to face him.
"Do you honestly think your pets can protect you from me, Danarius?"
"Hey, Fenris, just a thought, but less talking, more demon-killing," Hawke finally yells over the fray. He and Junior jump into the fray themselves, hacking and slashing at the demons' backs. I personally start aiming for eyes. At least I think the glowing purple targets are eyes. Well, they reel in pain whenever I hit them, so it's all good.
But they're not dying. Which is not good.
"This is taking too long, Mel!" Junior's voice certainly does carry doesn't it?
"Working on it, Carver! Hang on!" Maybe the no-inside voice is a Hawke thing.
All of a sudden, Bianca starts glowing bright yellow, and I'm shooting lightening outta my lady.
"Neat!"
Fenris did not share my sentiment, "What in the entire Void…!"
But apparently Hawke's not having it now. "Killing demons first, yelling at me second! Just swing that damn meat cleaver already!"
With Hawke's magic backing up our shots, the demons go down far easier till they're just stains on the floor. Yay!
And the elf was glowing, and glaring with obsidian-dark eyes. Again. Yay…
Elf needs to learn some new tricks…
But Hawke was serious as I've ever seen him, and met the elf's glare steadily. "I'm on your side, Fenris," he said.
"You're a—!"
"Who is helping you. Or do you want to face this magister on your own?" Junior walks over to stand just behind Hawke's shoulder, telling the elf without words whose side he was on. You know, for all he complains, Junior really is a loyal little brother isn't he? As for me, I keep Bianca cocked and ready; nothing against Fenris, but I need Hawke alive. I want me and my brother's expedition to succeed, really badly; we need the money just as much as Hawke and Junior do. Plus, I've only known Hawke for a couple of weeks, but what I've seen and talked to so far I really like, concerns for his mental state aside. Elf just doesn't have as much of a report.
Them's the break though. And Fenris, I think, knew that too, if the blinding light he was exuding was any indication.
Kid should never play Diamond Back, with anger issues like that.
"Blinding us won't do anything, Elf. And we're wasting time, just so you know," I piped up.
And just like that, I was blinking the spots out of my eyes, the elf going out like…well, like a light. Still, good to know practicality snuffed him out pretty quick. Though he was still glaring at us—at Hawke.
Hey, I'll take it. For now.
Keep that up though, Elf, and Bianca'll have words with you…
Anyway, we continue on through the mansion, kicking liberal demon ass along the way (because we're awesome) when we hit a snag. Well, another one.
I glare at the door. Stupid thing refused to do what I wanted, when I wanted it to do it. My survival is depending on this door opening (I can seriously feel Fenris' glare), and it wouldn't budge. I turn back to the others, "It needs a key."
Hawke sighs, "Well, shit…maybe one of the demons had it?"
So we had to go through the entire house looking for the one stupid Rage Demon—out of, what, twelve?—that had the stupid little key, that opened the stupid little door, that—sing it with me now, summoned another fucking demon.
You know, at four o' clock in the morning after having stayed up the entire night, this routine was getting old. But we were tired, we were cranky, and we were slow.
And the demon took advantage of that. Well, it and another ten-or so Shades.
Because no kill like overkill, right?
It sealed Hawke in a crushing prison first—and damn, if the blighted thing wasn't smart, taking Hawke out first—before coming for the rest of us. Elf tried to rush the thing headlong, and got his sword frozen to the ground for his trouble, while the Shades blocked me off from the others into a corner.
Okay, seriously, why do I keep getting shoved into corners?!
And why did I hear Junior screaming?!
Well, three bolts and a flash grenade later, I found out why.
Junior laid there on the floor, a giant hole in his stomach from where (I assume) the demon had impaled him with those super-long talons. The elf was still pinned, and trying to bat off a group of Shades with his single not-frozen claw, as the demon made its way over to a struggling, silently-screaming Hawke.
The sight of the scene was so…incongruously horrifying, I'm not sure I can describe it well, but here goes:
The demon floated lazily, assuredly over to where Hawke struggled against invisible bonds, like a rat in a trap. It lifted one clawed hand, and began to run its fingers through Hawke's short, frizzy hair. The gesture itself was rather…puzzling, in hindsight. It was almost loving, a caress. And I think the thing was whispering to Hawke, but I couldn't be sure, really.
But I could guess, given the look of abject terror written over Hawke's face, that it was something bad.
And the terror is what got to me, more than anything.
Demon impaling Junior through the gut, and leaving him to die? Still rationale. Demon whispering something to Mellan Hawke, and leaving him wide-eyed in terror?
You're dead.
Still, there were demon's trying to whack me over the head from behind, so I fired a few bolts towards Hawke's antagonist, before fishing the dagger I kept in my boot out and stabbing the things behind me in the throat.
Then I heard an enraged yell, followed by streams of lightening striking the demons from nowhere.
I whirled around, to see Hawke shooting massive sparks from his hands at the demon that had, a second ago, been holding him captive. He had his staff back in his hands, and was slashing, and stabbing, and feinting wildly. And it seemed it was all the demon could do to steer clear of Hawke's attacks.
Apparently, whatever that demon had said had majorly pissed him off.
Good to see. The relief at the sight nearly left me stunned, but I didn't have time for that.
I had faith Hawke could handle himself while I sorted out Elf. I couldn't look to Junior right now.
Me and the elf needed to have words, first.
"Now you listen to me Elf, and you listen good," I tell him, the edge of my knife against his throat—what can I say, I was feeling reckless, "Back Hawke up. We are here helping you. You let him die, and I kill you myself. So you wanna make it out alive? Then make sure he gets out alive. Where you go and what you do after is your business. We clear?"
Fenris glared a rather sullen glare. Then nodded.
Good enough.
With the butt of my knife, I break the ice holding Fenris down, and jump back as the elf jumps up and runs down the banister towards where Hawke was having it out with the demon. I kept an eye on them a second longer, just to make sure Fenris didn't do anything he—and I—would regret.
The elf, however, made good on his—well, not word, really, but the sentiment's the same, right? He gave one large burst of light, and the demon stumbled back, like some force had just collided with it. From there, despite not being as coordinated to Hawke as Junior was—is, Varric, is!—Hawke was obviously used to giant Claymores flying overhead, and moved with Fenris in a slightly clumsier version of his and Junior's dance. When Hawke stabbed low, Fenris aimed high; when Fenris swept low, Hawke blinded the demon with lightening.
It wasn't anywhere near as graceful or practiced as Hawke and Junior, as I've said.
But damn if it wasn't still impressive.
Speaking of Junior.
I turned back to him, and I gotta admit, it was really unnerving that anyone could turn that shade of white in a matter of minutes. I wrapped bandages first, possibly tight enough to cut off blood flow, but I was working against time here. Then I tried to get the kid to swallow some potion, both a little for health and for stamina, trying to get some liquids down him. Junior being Junior wasn't really making this easy for me, either.
But by then, I didn't hear any more fighting (I might've heard Hawke say a quiet thanks to the elf, but I wasn't looking), so called down, "Get your ass up here, Hawke, before Junior bleeds out!"
Did I mention it had been a long night?
Still, I've never heard anyone sprint like Hawke did just then. In an instant, Hawke was next to me, glowing with a soft blue magic I'd never seen him use before. But being near him while he was glowing was kinda the exact opposite of the elf's glowing.
It was…really nice.
That feeling, however, was tempered greatly by Hawke's expression. And his running monologue:
"No. No, no, no, no! You are not dying! Not after—no! You listen to me, Carver Jonathon Hawke, you are not dying; I will not let you die! Not now, not ever! So wake the fuck up!"
A couple things had happened by this point: first off, Fenris had walked up behind Hawke (dragging his feet, really), and was looking at Hawke with an incredibly…neutral expression. Secondly, the light Hawke was emanating had turned white, like a tame imitation of the elf's light show from earlier.
And finally, Carver woke up.
Hawke gave a choked little gasp before pulling his baby brother into an embrace hard enough to hurt, given Junior's wince. Though that might have been my field dressing. Anyway.
"You ever do anything like that again—"
"Not like I asked the demon to stab me in the gut, Mel."
"That's not the point, you idiot!"
"You're not making a point, you idiot!"
Ah, brotherly love.
Still, we had come here to do something right? And the elf was looking twitchy. And I was really tired by this point, so I cleared my throat and got the brothers Hawke moving.
And wouldn't you know it? The magister-guy got away. If he was even really here in the first place, which I kinda doubted by this point.
Still, the dejected slope of the elf's shoulders belayed his disappointment. He sighed, "Gone. I had thought…" he shook his head, like it would dispel the angst hanging over him like a cloud (it didn't, by the way). He turned and after giving his blessing to raid the place (like there was anything to raid, Elf) left the room to go back outside.
After breaking open a couple of chests (of which the best things in them were a pair of boots. Cause we didn't have nearly enough of those), we followed Fenris to find him leaning against a column, exuding such melodramatic angst it was practically visible. Seriously, I was amazed there weren't women squeezing out of the walls to beg him for kids. Or something.
…Okay, I state again, five in the morning, long night, no sleep. I'm not really feeling all that eloquent right now.
But the elf did start soliloquizing. Broodily.
"It never ends," he sighed, "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn." Maker's ass, really? Fenris turned to us and continued, "And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage." We get it, you have issues! Andraste's dimpled ass cheeks, make it stop! "So tell me, what manner of mage are you?" This last part was asked far too neutrally for my liking, despite the growl there in the middle.
I think Junior heard what I did, cause he immediately leaned forward, fingers curling into fists and told the elf in no uncertain terms, "You have a problem with my brother, you have a problem with me." Fenris, however, did not look particularly impressed, and turned his attention once more to the elder brother.
Apparently, Hawke was not really in the mood for this line of questioning. He immediately tipped his head to the side and sneered, "Why the manner that slits his writs and dances naked in the moonlight. And I gotta tell ya, I look damn good naked." The elf turned red at this, though whether it was due to embarrassment or anger, I couldn't quite tell. Hawke narrowed his eyes and widened his smile—a dangerous sign most times, "Is there a point to this line of interrogation?"
Fenris scowled silently for a time before stating quietly, "There is no such thing as a harmless mage in my experience. Even the weakest in power have the potential for harm, whether they acknowledge it or not. Whether they wish it or not. So I ask again, what manner of mage are you?"
Hawke was quiet for a time, considering, I think, what the elf said and asked. Eventually he sighed, "You…certainly don't ask easy questions, do you?" He rubbed his forehead in thought (and possibly to ease an oncoming headache; Maker knows I've got one), and said, "I doubt it'll put your mind at ease or anything, but I don't really want anything. Or well, the things I do want aren't worth selling my soul over, you know? Or turning to blood magic for. I'm an apostate, not a maleficar. And no, I have intention of becoming maleficarum anytime soon. I'd prefer to rely on my own strength first."
"And if that should not work?"
"Then I try again. You'll find I'm nothing if not stubborn," Hawke grinned. "And I'll achieve my dreams through my own power, thank you very much. And since I have now answered your question to the best of my ability, mind if I ask you why your old master wants you so much? Seems like a lot of effort to recapture one slave."
"He doesn't want me at all," Fenris snapped, "just the markings on my skin." He brought one arm up where it shimmered in the faint dawn-light, and glowered at it, like it offended him. Seemed as though a lot of things did. "They are lyrium," he told us, "burned into my flesh to provide the power Danarius required of his pet."
"And you're not dead?!"
Oops, did I say that?
Yet, the elf just looked up in an expression that, for all it was still broody, was wry. "Apparently."
"Damn…" Seriously, damn. That sympathy from earlier was flaring back up again.
"And you think Danarius will keep hunting you?"
"He is too proud not to. I doubt he will stop until either I am back with him, or until I am dead, the lyrium stripped from my corpse."
Hawke gawped, "What a waste of a perfectly handsome elf!"
And then the weirdest thing I'd seen so far that night happened: Fenris laughed. Okay not so much "Ha ha ha" as a cross between a cough and a guffaw, but still! It stunned me so bad, I nearly missed Hawke's reaction.
He was blushing.
Well, huh.
I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with Bad Romance Novel.
Maker, I wasn't drunk enough for this.
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