"Garrett? Garrett!"
Hawke muttered to himself and buried his head under the bedcovers. Beside him, Anders was sprawled asleep, one leg dangling over the side of the bed, the covers askew and one arm flung up across his eyes. He was faintly snoring.
"Garrett, damn it!"
Hawke sat up in resignation. Carver wasn't going to go away, it seemed, and if Hawke didn't do something about it then his little brother would wake Anders. He pulled himself out of bed and reached for his house-robe, pulling it on and belting it as he made his way around the bed. He bent over to gently kiss Anders' nose; the mage murmured something in his sleep and faintly smiled. Hawke grinned fondly down at the sleeping man then made his way quietly from the bedroom.
"Garrett, where are-"
"Shout a little louder won't you, Carver?" remarked Hawke as he walked down the stairs. "I'm sure they didn't quite hear you down in Darktown."
Carver folded his arms across his chest, the chainmail Warden armour clanking slightly. "Then why didn't you answer?" he replied testily. Hawke raised an eyebrow.
"Last I checked, I wasn't at your beck and call, Carver," he replied. "I see your Warden training hasn't improved your manners any."
Carver gestured at the hall, where bloodstains and scorch marks were much in evidence. "I gather you had unexpected guests last night."
"Actually I invited Anders to redecorate – the 'random midnight slaughter' look is very 'in' this season," replied Hawke drily. "What do you want, Carver?"
Carver straightened and frowned. "Carta dwarves attacked me at the training yard yesterday."
"Maybe we should thank the Carta for livening up your training routine then," remarked Hawke. "Must make a change from darkspawn." Carver snorted.
"Hardly. Though it looks like you fared less well against them than I did." He gestured at Hawke's robe; Hawke lifted his right arm and looked down at the slash in the fabric and the dried black stains of blood. "Oh? Hmm, no, that's not my blood," he replied. "They got Anders. Nothing he couldn't heal, thankfully, but I think I owe the Carta a less than friendly visit in return."
Carver tried to look appropriately serious, but Hawke didn't miss the sudden triumphant gleam in his eye as Hawke mentioned Anders' injury that was replaced by a flicker of disappointment at the news Anders was not badly hurt. "The mage was here?"
"He's asleep upstairs; I'll be sure to give him your love shall I?"
Carver snorted in derision. "Don't put yourself out on my account," he muttered.
Both men turned at the sound of bare feet pounding up the stone steps outside and into the foyer; Fenris came to a halt just inside the ruined remains of the doorway. "Where is he?" he demanded, ignoring Carver as he addressed Hawke. Hawke merely jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the stairs. Fenris brushed past the Grey Warden without a word as he headed up the stairs.
"Does the elf usually..."
"Frequently," replied Hawke. "You get used to it after a while."
Carver shook his head. "Aren't you worried about leaving your pet mage vulnerable to the mage-hating elf?"
Hawke threw his head back and roared with laughter. Carver frowned, sensing he was the butt of some joke. "What?" he exclaimed, but Hawke only laughed louder.
Upstairs, Fenris made unerringly for Hawke's room, not breaking his stride until he stood beside the large four poster bed, staring down at the sleeping man. He stared intently down at Anders' peaceful face, trying to decide if he looked paler than usual. Anders was sprawled upon his back in unconscious abandon, blond hair scattered across the pillows, one leg dangling over the side of the bed, one hand resting atop his chest whilst the fingers of his other hand curled next to his head upon the pillow. He was snoring very faintly, pink lips slightly parted.
Fenris gently lifted the edge of the coverlet, folding it back far enough to see the barely-healed angry red line of the sword slash below the slender man's ribs. Pursing his lips, he stared down at the inflamed flesh that would doubtless scar, even with the mage's accomplished skills as a healer applied to himself. Anders must have been running pretty close to empty to have left such an injury only barely closed.
Anders stirred at the feel of cool air ghosting over his naked skin, his eyes slowly blinking open as Fenris folded the coverlet back over him.
"Fenris?" he murmured, the soft brown eyes regarding the elf still sleep-befuddled.
"I came directly I heard," said the elf quietly, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Like a pissed-off dwarf did his damnedest to disembowel me," replied Anders, pushing errant strands of hair out of his eyes. "Why is it always me they go for?"
Fenris was about to answer when the sounds of raised voices from downstairs interrupted him. A look of irritation crossed his tanned features and he scowled. Anders sat up, glancing towards the doorway.
"Carver? What's he doing here?" he wondered. Fenris shrugged.
"He was here when I arrived," replied the elf. He stared at Anders' scar, gesturing at it. "You should finish healing yourself," he added, dismissing Carver out of mind as unimportant. Let Hawke deal with him.
Anders glanced down at the slash wound, spanning it carefully with one hand as he nodded. "I was almost out of mana after fighting the Carta off without my staff," he explained. "And my lyrium potions are all back at the clinic. I did what I could, but now I'm rested." He concentrated, and a soft blue glow suffused the hand pressed against his side.
"You should not exhaust your power beyond your ability to heal yourself," scolded the elf.
"I didn't exactly have much of a choice," protested Anders. "I was trying not to get killed!"
"What have you done to arouse the Carta's ire?" wondered the elf in puzzlement.
"Why does everyone always assume it's my fault?" protested Anders. "I didn't do anything – they were here for Hawke! Said they were after his blood."
"I was not aware the Carta employed blood mages?" Fenris' expression darkened.
"Nor was I," replied Anders quietly. "I'm not too happy at that particular thought, believe me."
"I share your unhappiness," replied Hawke from the door. "How are you feeling, love?"
Anders lifted his hand away to show a smooth, white line where the wound had healed up completely. "I'll be fine," he replied with a reassuring smile. "A little tired, but none the worse for wear."
"Good," replied Hawke, tossing his black robes across to him. "Get dressed then."
"Where are we going?" asked Fenris.
"To the Hanged Man," replied Hawke. "I think it's time we had a little word with Varric about what the Carta are up to and see why he didn't send us a heads-up that they're out after Hawke blood."
"They went after Carver too then?" guessed Anders. Hawke nodded, turning to Fenris. "Coming?" he asked the elf.
Fenris snorted, glancing pointedly at Anders. "Need you ask?"