It was raining cats and mabari, but they didn't stop. Hawke was exhausted, racing through Hightown like a madman until he reached Lowtown. He stopped briefly when Varric paused to decide which route to take, and thanked the Maker that he was in shape when they started to run again. They made it to the docks, and approached the compound gates.
"Your timing is inappropriate human, leave and come back when the sun has risen." The Qunari guard warned him.
"It is an emergency." Hawke declared, "Let us in!"
The gates opened for him, but he knew that no less than a dozen spears were trained on them as they entered. This would be a lot to explain to the Qunari, should Saemus be asleep in his bed.
"Arishok!" Hawke shouted. He stood in the center of their square, and Qunari guards began to move closer around him. Up the stairs was a large tent behind the bench where the Arishok usually perched. The man who emerged from it wore nothing more than his breeches, and stormed down the stairs with rage in his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" The Arishok seethed.
"Where is Saemus Dumar?"
"Asleep, with the other Viddathari."
"Take me to him." Hawke demanded, "His life is in danger and it is a matter of averting a crisis."
Each of them breathed heavily, their breath visible in the freezing rain. The Arishok gestured to two of his guards, and when they set off he returned his attention to Hawke and the dwarf.
"Remain here." He commanded them, and they did not argue.
A moment later his guards returned.
"He is gone." The first said. The Arishok simply stared at his men, his expression uncertain. Hawke was in disbelief as well, and he turned to Varric.
"Where would she have taken him?" Hawke asked.
"To repent." The dwarf exhaled, and a look of worry grew on his face.
They burst through the Chantry doors without warning, and Hawke's eyes hurriedly scanned the room. Relief washed over him when he saw Saemus, kneeling before Andraste's statue. He could barely make out his hands, folded together in prayer. The absurdity of what he'd seen didn't strike him until much later.
Hawke rushed up the steps and turned sharply to reach him, but what he found was something he'd never expected. He froze. Varric had gone up the other side, and halted as well once he saw them.
Saemus Dumar was on his knees, a dagger twisted into his chest. The way he gripped it with both hands had given the illusion of praying. Just as grief was about to consume the mage he saw that the boy was still breathing.
"Varric, get the Viscount, hurry!" He shouted, and the dwarf disappeared down the stairs.
Hawke ran to him, and collapsed by his side. Only then did Saemus notice him.
"Hawke" He gasped, his face wet from crying, hesitating to let go of the dagger, "It hurts to speak, but if it comes out…"
"I know." The older man said, he placed a hand on his chest, studying the wound.
They were alone, and Anders was too far out of reach.
"You're a mage, Hawke, can you heal it?"
"No, I… To heal you I would have to pull it out and…" Hawke was breathless, overwhelmed with tears, "It won't work fast enough, I…" He couldn't contain the whimper. Feeling utterly useless, he confessed, "I can't save you."
"Yes, you can." Saemus reassured him, "I want you to try."
"No, Saemus!" He watched as the dagger slid out, and fell to the ground. It was as if he'd opened a flood gate, as blood began pouring out of the wound at an alarming rate. Saemus fell on his side, and Hawke quickly rolled him onto his back.
He positioned his hands over the wound, and began to beg, "In the name of Andraste, please."
A faint light appeared in his hands, growing brighter then fading, and going out completely. He struggled, illuminating once more only to have it go out again.
"No" He cried, and inside he screamed at himself to focus, to stop being afraid, and to remember how much he loved Saemus.
The glow was barely visible, but it was lit.
Varric came rushing up the stairs with the Viscount on his heels.
"Saemus!" The man said, his resolve breaking a little more with every step, "Maker, no!"
He fell to his knees beside his son.
"Father" Saemus groaned, "You… came. You don't… hate me?"
"No, Saemus, my darling boy…" He cried, "I could never hate you, you're my son."
A single tear ran down Saemus' cheek.
"I love you." The boy smiled.
"I love you too, son." The Viscount's breath trembled.
Saemus looked to Hawke, who was still trying furiously to keep his magic alive.
"Hawke." At his call the mage looked at him, their blue eyes mirroring each other, "Kost asaam kata... I am with Ashaad."
A ragged breath escaped him as he watched the boy's eyes roll shut. He was gone.
Hawke stood and staggered back, leaving the Viscount to mourn his son. Just as he felt his back press against the railing, the Seneschal came through the door with Anders at his side. Hawke stared down at him, his eyes so ridden with pain that Anders knew at once: He was too late. Still, the healer ran to him, charging up the steps.
Just as he reached Hawke a figure emerged from the shadows behind Andraste's image.
"I saw the whole thing your grace." Hawke lifted his gaze to see Petrice, watching him intently. In that moment, he felt nothing, save for the cold that spread through him, "Serah Hawke killed him with that blade" she pointed to the dagger that lay bloody on the floor, "The boy had come to repent, and he killed him!"
As her words sank in, the cold inside Hawke was eradicated and fire blossomed in its place. It nearly consumed him, but then the Viscount stood. Tears were pooled in the shallow space beneath his eyes, a mark of age and the sleep he'd lost fearing over a thing such as this.
"That is a lie." The Viscount said blankly, and Petrice looked taken aback, "Serah Tethras told me everything as he led me here."
The Grand Cleric appeared to the right, Sebastian beside her.
"I don't know what you're implying, your grace." Petrice told him, "I had nothing to do with this! I did not kill him!" Small flames ignited at Hawke's feet.
"That I believe. You would never soil your hands," The Viscount said, stepping closer to her, "But I know you are the architect of this, and you will be punished."
"Your grace-!" He simply stared at her, then turned to leave.
The Viscount stopped only briefly, nodding to Hawke, then continued down the steps and away from his son's corpse.
With that gesture, flames engulfed the mage. His eyes glowed and long fingers of flame crept out of his mouth and nose. Neither Anders nor Sebastian had ever seen him this way, and just as he was about to unleash his fire on Petrice, the Grand Cleric intervened.
"There will be no more death in this house of the Maker!" She shouted.
Anders grabbed Hawke's wrist, and as he fought down the flames it was as if he were fighting every ounce of his very being into submission.
Once he had calmed, something sped past him. An arrow buried in the priest's chest. Petrice gasped, and was reaching up to grasp it when another pierced her forehead. The mother fell back, landing at the feet of Andraste's image.
In the shadows, a Qunari scout sheathed his bow and disappeared into the darkness. The Grand Cleric looked on, seemingly uncaring, then descended the steps opposite the Viscount.
It was over.
When Hawke returned to the Qunari compound, he did so with a heavy heart. He told the Arishok of what had occurred, and warned him that people would likely lay blame at his feet. In turn he was informed that, in a week's time, the Arishok had intended to give Saemus the title 'Ashkaari', meaning 'the one who seeks'. When he was about leave, Hawke hesitated, then spoke, "May I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"What Saemus said to you, before we left the compound the day of his induction into the Viddathari." Hawke tried, "He said it to me as well, just before he died."
"Kost esaam kata." The Arishok told him.
"What does it mean?"
"In your tongue it would be, 'There is peace in death'."
Hawke closed his eyes briefly, nodding slowly, then thanked him and departed.
He returned home and went to his room, unsure if he wished to sit and think or sleep to heal his aching heart. He set his staff by the dresser, where something caught his eye. He hadn't noticed it the night before, but there was a note, and on its surface lay a small shining pearl.
Hawke took it into his palm, and read the letter below.
My friend,
I want you to have this. Someday I will learn the story of the man and the pearl, and when I do I will tell it to you. Sometimes the people we love must go, but please keep this as a reminder that a piece of them lives within us forever.
- Saemus Dumar
Rolling the pearl between his fingertips, he recalled what Saemus had said to him during the night that they were together: It teaches us to cherish what we hold dear, and that a journey is just if it leads you to what you seek.
Neither of them would ever know the story, Hawke realized. Tears that had collected in his eyelashes dripped down onto his cheeks, and his lip quivered as he affirmed the promise he had made.
He spoke deliberately, "Even when you and I, and everyone we know, have become dust, our bond will remain."