Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Chapter Forty-One: The Park in the Dark

Hawke wasn't about to tell anyone of the "special assignment" King Alistair gave her, it was simply too embarrassing. She didn't even take Bethany along. She crept out in the early morning hours before Merrill was awake in hopes of being back before anyone knew where she'd gone or what she'd had to do. She didn't even waken Spirit, asleep on the rug by the foot of the bed.

She was back inside of half an hour, and burst into her sister's bedchamber white-faced and panting. Bethany shot up and clutched the heavy quilt to her chest. "Kireani? By the Maker, what happened to you?"

"I…need healing," Hawke said.

Bethany leapt out of bed, threw her dressing gown on over top of her nightdress, and came to make an examination of her older sister's wounds. "Holy Andraste, you look like you've been in the wars! Tell me what happened?" she asked, as she set to using her healing spells.

Hawke sighed. "King Alistair made a request of me yesterday. He asked if I might take a team of my people and investigate a…'disturbance' in a little memorial promenade park the Crown caused to be built in the place where an old supply depot stood before the darkspawn attack. King Alistair…he's such a joker, I thought certainly he was jesting, that this was some sort of royal 'hazing', but he's the King so it's not like I could tell him to sod off. I was too proud to ask anyone to come with me."

She gulped a deep breath of air. "It wasn't a joke. There are…nasty things living in the park."

"What sort of nasty things?" Bethany asked.

"Pigeons. And squirrels."

Bethany's glowing hands faltered momentarily. "I expect you're about to tell me that they are giant pigeons and squirrels, with a taste for human flesh, correct?"

Hawke shook her head. "No, they're normal-sized. But they do have a taste for human flesh."

"So they did this to you, then? Did you manage to get rid of them?"

Hawke shook her head again. "Not a one. They were just too damned fast, I couldn't draw a bead on them. I'm going to have to go back out there, and I'm going to have to take a team," she said, with a look of utter terror on her face caused by the fact she would need to admit this humiliating defeat to others. "I figure magic will be best against the pigeons. Maybe some fast blades can take care of the squirrels. Varric might be able to take down a few. He's a faster aim than I."

"Magic? Kireani…do you really mean to take apostate mages out in the middle of Denerim in broad daylight?" Bethany asked. "The King may be well-disposed toward us and the Grand Cleric may be looking the other way, but that doesn't mean the Priests and templars won't be on the lookout."

"The Grand Cleric has most of them out of the city on 'Chantry business,' Bethany, but if it will make you feel safer we'll ask the King for some sort of protection. Maybe he could send someone from his personal guard along, just to make sure nobody bothers you."

"I'm not sure that even Fenris is enough to stop a templar in full charge," Bethany said doubtfully, "but I'm with you if you need me, sister."

"Let's go get Merrill and see who else we can find. Isabella is probably still out at the whorehouse."

"Well, let me get dressed first, please."

"Oh. Right. Yes. But do hurry up."

Bethany donned the lovely crimson robe the Queen had caused to be made for her and grabbed her staff. "All right," she said, as she stepped into her shoes, "I'm ready."

"Let's go, come on."

They left Bethany's rooms and made for the chambers Hawke shared with the Dalish blood mage, Merrill. Before they made it that far, however, their progress was halted by the sight of Loghain, hair mussed and plain rough-weave shirt both untucked and unlaced, exiting the rooms of Elilia Cousland. Embarrassed, the Hawke sisters stopped short.

Loghain nodded to them and grunted something that might have been "Good morning." He seemed thoroughly unconcerned to be seen leaving a lady's bedchambers in the pre-dawn hours. He made to walk past them but when he was close enough to see Hawke's healing wounds in the dim light he stopped and stared. "Maker's breath, woman, what lit into you?"

"Squirrels and pigeons, milord," Bethany said, with a curtsey. "King Alistair asked her to look into the matter of attacks at the memorial park and she didn't take it quite seriously enough."

"Squirrels and pigeons, eh? Well, that's…a new one on me. Are you heading back out to give it another go, then?"

"With magic, this time," Hawke said, through her shamefaced blush. "Little buggers were too fast for me on my own."

"Mind if I tag along? The city always gets me keyed up and restless. Killing something vile will put me in a much better frame of mind, and pigeons are pure vermin even under ordinary circumstances."

The Hawke sisters shared a look. "If anyone could stop a rampaging templar…" Bethany said. "At the very least, he could certainly cow any Chantry stooge that looks to sell us out for unauthorized use of magic."

"I suppose, my lord, if you wish to join us, then you are welcome to," Hawke said, not without some misgivings. "We were a bit afraid that someone might…give us trouble, if we were seen using magic publicly."

"Let them try."

"We were on our way to waken my sister's…er…'mage-friend,'" Bethany said, with a blush. "To help us. I'm sure she will need a few minutes to get ready, milord, if you wish to take the opportunity to prepare yourself."

"And then we were going to the Fishwife's Cloister to find Varric and maybe our friend Isabella as well," Hawke added.

"Shouldn't take me as long as that to get ready," he said. "I just need to get my bow and wake up my hound. Meet you at the front gates, then?"

He strode off down the corridor without waiting for a reply, and the sisters exchanged another look. Once he was around the corner and out of earshot, Bethany allowed herself a giggle. "Well…wonder if the Hero of Ferelden is sleeping peacefully?" she said, with a mischievous twinkle in her black eyes.

"She is now, I suppose," Hawke said, though she didn't sound particularly jocular herself. "He didn't seem especially concerned for her propriety, did he?"

"Kireani, he walked out of her rooms and was seen doing it. What ought he to have done? Lied? Murdered us both in order to maintain her honor? I thought he handled it rather well, actually."

Hawke sighed and then smiled. "I suppose you're right. Perhaps I'm simply looking for reasons not to trust him."

"Varric seems to trust him, and you heard what he said about the possibility of blood mage mind control."

"I know. It's just…hard to let go of a decade of mistrust, I guess."

She led the way to her door. Merrill proved difficult to rouse, but once she was awake she cottoned onto the situation quickly enough. She dressed and grabbed her staff. "Squirrels are so cute, it's a pity we shall have to kill them. Less so if they're trying to kill us, of course."

"We should get going," Bethany said. "I can't help but think that Lord Loghain is a man who does not like to be kept waiting."

"Oh, is he coming along with us?" Merrill asked. "That's nice. Fresh air is very good for someone of his age, and he does look a bit peaked."

"Merrill, darling…do us all a favor and don't mention to him anything about his age or appearance, all right?" Hawke pleaded.

"Oh of course I won't, ma vhenan. It wouldn't be nice for him to be reminded that he's in the twilight of his days, would it?" Merrill gave her belt a twitch to straighten it. "I was very glad King Alistair intervened when that Vaughan character was calling for a duel. You should never fight someone so much older than yourself, it just isn't right or fair."

"Merrill…I don't think His Majesty stepped in to save Lord Loghain," Bethany ventured.

"And I don't think Lord Vaughan was calling for a duel," Hawke said. "He's not brave enough. He expected the Crown to save him from the Big Bad Wolf, which is silly, given the fact that he's the Queen's father."

"The Big Bad Wolf? Is this a nickname for Lord Loghain?"

"No, Merrill. The Big Bad Wolf is part of a Ferelden folktale," Bethany said.

"Oo. Can I hear it?"

"While we walk," Hawke said. "Bethany's right, it's not wise to keep Loghain waiting, I should think."

They started out, and Bethany gave Merrill the bare bones of the old tale, which featured three young brothers who lived in the bannorn not far from the Korcari Wilds, who found themselves beset by a particularly hungry, brutal, and intelligent wolf. The youngest brother called to the local Bann for protection, but it never came and so the wolf killed and ate him. The middle brother called to the King, but again aid never came and the brother was killed and eaten. The oldest brother called to no one, but guarded himself well and forged for himself a great blade of steel. When the wolf came for him, he killed and ate it.

"After it ate his two brothers?" Merrill asked, taken aback. "That's…ew."

"The story is an allegory, Merrill," Hawke said. "You look out for yourself, it tells us; never make yourself wholly dependant upon someone else. Our father used to tell us that Fereldens viewed the Wolf in the story as the Orlesian Empire, but I believe it goes back well before the Occupation."

"There's Lord Loghain," Bethany said, and pointed towards the tall figure that lounged by the front gate with a part-grown hound in silhouette by his side. "Probably should stop talking about wolves and Orlesians now."

"Maker's breath, he didn't even bother to lace up his shirt."

"Well, the hairy chest does lessen his resemblance to an elf, now, doesn't it?" Merrill said.

Bethany giggled. "Maybe that's why he left his shirt unlaced - so Merrill doesn't say anything more about him looking 'elfy.'"

"Shh."

Loghain stepped away from the wall he leaned against and nodded to them as they approached. "Ladies."

Merrill nodded back, eyes shining brightly in the early morning light. "Elder," she greeted in a friendly manner. Hawke sighed helplessly. Loghain took no notice of either the appellation or Hawke's dismay at hearing it, and fell into step behind them, looming large and a bit menacing despite his casual stance. In harness on his back was an absolutely enormous longbow and a quiver full of arrows with eagle feather flights, rifled Dalish-style. A very large, wicked-looking hunting knife rode in his belt.

They found Varric seated at what was already become "his table" in the Fishwife's Cloister on the docks. Isabella was with him, and she eyed the narrow strip of Loghain's chest visible beneath the untied lacings of his shirt with lascivious interest. She elbowed Varric.

"Sorry, Varric, but I'm afraid your Paragon of Manliness status has been revoked. That chest is even hairier than yours."

"It is not," Varric said, and he sounded out of sorts as he tugged the lapels of his open-necked tunic. "His hair is just darker, that's all. It draws more…attention."

"It's certainly drawn mine."

"I didn't expect to find you awake, Varric," Hawke said. "You've become an early riser since moving to Ferelden?"

Varric chuckled. "Hawke, you should know better. The Rivaini and I haven't even gone to bed yet. Well, I haven't, at least. And Isabella didn't do any sleeping, I assume. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"King Alistair wants me to clean out some pests from the memorial park," Hawke said. "They turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than I was expecting. I could use your help, if you're willing."

"Putting the hurt on some thugs? I'm game. Rivaini?"

"Why not? Isn't much else to do in this town."

"Well…our quarry isn't exactly…thugs," Hawke said.

"They'll see for themselves soon enough," Loghain said.

"True enough, I guess. Just…don't laugh, honestly, because it's no joke. I need you on your toes."

"Oo, color me intrigued. Lead on, Hawke," Varric said, and got up from the table. Isabella followed suit, and together the party left the tavern in the pale light of dawn.