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Merrill's eyes were wide, the crockery on the tray in her hands trembling.
"I don't think I'm going to be very good at this…" The elf squeaked.
Alistair sighed. "We need to have a convincing story… If I'm going there with the pretence of diplomacy and offering to help rebuild the Circle we must get this right…"
"But why do I have to be the servant?!" The mage wailed, throwing her hands up in to the air in exasperation. Almost as if in slow motion, Hawke watched the items her friend had been holding crash to the ground.
The blonde winced. She took in the sight of the smashed cups… and Alistair's tight lipped, maddened expression, Merrill's face pale. She tried not to smirk… somehow she knew that was not the correct response… but that didn't mean that it wasn't difficult to contain her amusement.
"That's fine…" Alistair grumbled through obviously gritted teeth, "not like those were valuable at all."
"Oh good…" Merrill sighed with relief… clearly oblivious to the strained look the sandy haired man was giving her. "I'd have felt awful if I'd broken something expensive… but then again… you are a King… so I thought… well he can always go and buy more, can't he?"
"Well it would be rather difficult to replace antique family heirlooms…"
"Thank goodness! Although it would be rather silly to bring heirlooms on to a boat…"
Hawke heard the muffled snort at her side and fought the urge to turn to the healer… knowing he was also trying not to laugh… knowing that both their resolves would likely crumble if their gazes locked.
This became only more difficult when Alistair gave a grunt. "Riiiiight… I'm starting to think this might not be the best idea… Is there anything else you can do instead…?"
Merrill took a moment to consider. "… I can cook?"
"NO!" Hawke and Anders' answers came at the same time… both as vehement as the other. As entertaining as this had been… the thought of another of the elf's 'stews' was not a pleasant one.
Alistair gave them both a look of surprise… Merrill one of indignation. "You both enjoyed that broth I made at the Wounded Coast when we…"
"Merrill… no one enjoyed that…" Anders cut in scathingly.
"… well no one said anything…" The elf defended.
"That's because no one could quite work out how to chew it, let alone swallow it…" The healer rolled his eyes.
Merrill replied with a look of confusion. "It was only fish…"
"It was mud eels… you left the bones and heads in… it was vile…"
"Well I liked it…" The mage muttered under her breath.
"Anyway," Hawke cut in… eager not to linger on her friend's complete lack of culinary finesse lest she tried to prove herself again, "Anders… why doesn't Merrill help you with your potions? You can both stay out of the way… and given how many Templars we're likely to run in to I think that would be for the best anyway…"
The look of horror he gave her was impossible to miss. She knew exactly what he was thinking… why are you doing this to me?
She gave him a smile… one that she knew would be met with his scowl.
"If there's no more Circle then why will there be so many Templars?" Merrill queried, clearly oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. Hawke noticed it was Alistair's turn to fight a smirk.
"Because when the Circle was destroyed… lots of mages escaped." Anders grumbled. "And given that Templars 'holy' duty is to find mages I imagine they will be looking for them."
"Is that why all those mages came to Kirkwall…?"
The blonde mage gave out an exasperated sigh. "Unbelievable. I get hounded by the bloody Templars for years, take great pains to remain undetected… and yet Merrill here just walks in to Kirkwall and doesn't bat an eyelid… and doesn't even know why Meredith and her cronies are getting a touch over-zealous…"
"Well that's not entirely true… I noticed there were more apostates… A lot of them tried hiding in the Alienage for starters… the Templars don't go there often…"
"… you've known the Templars are closing in on me… and it never occurred to you to tell me that?!"
The elf shrugged. "You never asked… But you're always welcome to stay with me Anders… you know that… you'd have to excuse the rats though…"
The healer's eyes closed as he sighed heavily. "You know what? I think I'd prefer the damn Templars…"
…..
It was night once more by the time the ship approached the barren docks of Starkhaven. Beyond the darkened coast the lights of the city flickered.
Hawke took in the sight, recalling the first time she had seen Kirkwall from the sea, all those years ago. Her mother by her side, Aveline and Bethany looking sternly on. The loss of Carver weighing heavily on their hearts, the loss of Wesley still pulling at her red-headed friend. Hawke wondered idly how much of Aveline had been left on the bare pathway in Ferelden that day. For that matter, how much of herself had she abandoned when she left?
Although the city of chains should have meant to the offer of new hope, really, in that moment, it was a reminder of everything they had lost. Everything they had left behind. Their homes, their futures… those they loved… a country they had run away from… that she had once sworn to protect…
And now here she was, looking at yet another destination, reflecting on what remained to her.
All it seemed to do was dwarf her… thinking about her own inability to protect those she loved.
Even though she knew she was still fighting, it made her feel small. It made her wonder what she was even doing here. Of course, she knew what the answer was, but it seemed difficult to reconcile that with herself right now.
She was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed Alistair come to a halt at her side, his warm brown eyes taking her in. "You've gone quiet." He observed, turning his attention to the lights beyond.
"Just because I stop talking for a bit doesn't mean you have to check up on me." She sighed.
"There's nothing about 'having' to… it's about wanting to. And funnily enough, making sure you're alright is something that matters to me."
She felt the dry laugh rumble in her throat. "You haven't changed."
"Some things don't." He replied simply, offering her a drink. Something she accepted gratefully. It was warm, pushing away some of the chill that clung to her cold bones.
"Everything changes." She sighed.
"Not everything." She tensed when she felt him draw closer to her. She felt his arm offer some of his cloak, his grasp resting around her shivering shoulders. His tone became more hushed and wistful, his breath brushing against her ear. "My feelings for you… they will never change…"
She took a nervous sip. Warmth creeping across her cheeks… and she knew it had nothing to do with the beverage she had been handed. "Have you been drinking?" She tried to ask accusingly… although it came out as almost demure. She winced… what was she doing? Her friends were hurt… taken… she was all but broken in so many ways… yet here she was, taking comfort in this man's embrace. A man she had spurned for another.
"I'm about to walk into a political hotbed to retrieve a member of a usurped family… I've had a few…" He chuckled warmly, "Adds to my charm, you see."
"I've driven you to depravity…" She smirked.
"Maybe it's just for a touch of courage?" He sighed heavily before continuing. His voice soft yet purposeful. "I've thought about you… so many times I've lost count. I've kicked myself for leaving you in Kirkwall… for not coming back and seeing you… for not being there for you when your mother…"
He must have felt her tense beneath his arm because he hesitated. His voice trailing away.
"You shouldn't beat yourself up about it… I had other people there…" She sniffed, returning her attention to the mug in her hands.
"Not Fenris though…" The ex-Warden's tone took a bitter edge and when Hawke glanced up she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. "He should have been there for you… I should have been there for you. We both let you down…"
"Fenris was there…" She snapped back, though there was little bite in her voice. What right had she to be angry with anyone? The only person she had to blame was herself.
"He came to your home… he did not return to your side…"
"How exactly did you know about all this, again?" Hawke questioned, almost irascibly, though the apologetic expression her gave as he looked down at her and met her gaze made her realise almost immediately. "Which one?"
"A… concerned party…"
"Varric?" She demanded.
"Erm…"
"Aveline?!"
"Do the details really matter?"
"You could have just written to me, you know?" She growled, folding her arms around herself… though that did not seem to deter Alistair, and his armoured embrace remained around her shoulders.
"I did. But you never responded…"
Hawke frowned. "I don't recall you sending letters."
"From what I can tell, you haven't been exactly engaged in much other than your work…"
"Putting out fires day and night… that's me…" She responded flippantly, she could tell from the way his grip tightened slightly that he had seen passed her bravado.
"You're hurting, I can see that…"
Hawke sniffed. "Everyone hurts…"
"You're not 'everyone' to me… you're you. And I care about you… I can't stand the thought of you losing yourself… of me losing you…"
She smiled up at him. "I recall a time in the Deep Roads… when you said something very similar to me."
He leaned in to her so their faces nearly touched. She felt her breath hitch and something within her yearned to finally feel close to someone. To know that those years of feeling alone, cold… that they were over. "Some things don't change." He told her softly, drawing her in.
His embrace was so warm. So comforting.
"Thank you." She mumbled into his shoulder.
….
His head ached, his body throbbed with pain and his tongue was dry in his mouth.
Fenris pushed a breath out of his broken body and tried to raise his hands to push his hair out of his eyes, yet found himself unable to. It took him a moment to remember that he was bound, and he was once again in a chair.
"Finally awake, are we?" That voice. He knew that voice. The coldness of her tone. The edge of her words.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." His voice came out more of a slur than he had hoped, but the twinge his chest gave as it rumbled made him realise that it was probably beyond his current capabilities to be scathing.
"No matter, I've had quiet enough excitement while you were recovering your senses."
Fenris' memory returned to him, Ebony… she had been fighting Ebony.
The elf raised his head to see the dark haired woman applying a dressing to a shallow wound at her torso. Her jerkin tossed carelessly to one side, and Fenris saw the myriad of scars that covered her body. Although some were clearly the result of battle, the majority were too deep. Too deliberate. Linear.
As if caused by torture… or blood magic.
Fenris almost snarled, but the bruises and wounds to his face snatched away that instinct. Why was it always blood magic? Why was he even surprised?
The room was in a state of disarray… a man lay dead close to the door, blood seeping across the floor boards like a thick tide… a knife he recognised protruding from his neck. Chairs had been knocked over. A table upturned.
He was grateful to not see the assassin's body anywhere around him.
"She threw herself overboard to escape." Ija told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Not before I stabbed her through though."
There seemed to be something different about her. The harshness of her tone remained, but there was a boredom… almost a tiredness that permeated her words.
"I'm not sure why you would think I care…" He answered coolly. "She betrayed me, if you recall…"
"I do. And if you recall she betrayed me too? Perhaps that is something we can bond over?"
"If what you say you did to Hawke is true, then I think you know how I am likely to respond to such an offer."
She snorted a laugh. "I suppose I do. You know if that Templar hadn't turned up… she would be dead by my hand."
Fenris frowned to himself. Templar? Maybe Meredith? Cullen? It did not matter. "But she's not. You failed."
Ija shrugged. "No matter. She will pursue you. She will bring me the stone. All that has happened is the inevitable has been delayed."
"Only one thing is 'inevitable' for a blood mage." He choked out angrily. Anger that this woman had hurt Hawke. Anger that he was the lure so she could hurt her again. All because he had trusted the wrong person. All because he had kept his distance from Hawke. If he had just told her about Ebony, they could have planned properly. Exercised more caution.
Yet he knew that these thoughts were pointless. What he should have done was now meaningless.
What mattered was what he did now. What he would do differently if he ever saw Hawke again.
"I agree. Blood magic is truly its own punishment."
"A sadist, masochist and hypocrite. What potential you have…"
She snorted, though Fenris noticed a smirk on the woman's lips. "You think I'm a blood mage?"
"When you wear the evidence, it is difficult to hide. I should know…"
The elf noticed her gaze drift over his body, and he was suddenly rather aware of his semi undressed state… and the disgusting tattoos that were on display. The only person who had ever seen them besides his master had been…
Hawke.
"I noticed. The work of Tevinter I should think. I wonder if those brands are the reason you have been able to withstand such torture?"
"Torture?" Fenris rasped out. "Is that what this is? I thought 'torture' was supposed to make someone yield information? What you seem to be doing is attacking an incapacitated prisoner for enjoyment…"
"You'd prefer we have a chat while I beat you?" Ija gave a low chuckle as she retrieved her jerkin. "You're not wrong about me enjoying it. But I'm afraid your assessment about my being a blood mage is slightly off the mark…"
"Only slightly, though…?"
"You don't have to be a blood mage for your blood to be used for blood magic."
"Is that a threat?" He growled in a low voice, straining against his bonds with little success. Although he was trying his best to look menacing, the chill that swept through his body was undeniable and he fought the urge to shudder and vomit at the same time. Had his body not been defiled enough by magic? He could handle broken bones, deep wounds… savage beatings… but the thought of this woman using him for the thing he hated most in the world terrified him…
Ija seemed to notice the reaction she had caused and she gave him a cruel, sickly sweet smile. "Now we're getting somewhere. And just so you know, I wasn't 'threatening' you, I was 'educating' you."
The pounding of his heart subsided a little. He hadn't seen her use any magic, had he? But it seemed a hope too fragile to nurse given the hopelessness of the situation. He mentally prepared himself for what was to come, watching intently for any movement.
He almost winced when she reached out, fearing the worst was about to happen. The breath hissed between his teeth when she realised she was only pulling her glass to her. She gave him a knowing smile as she took a sip. "Relax… I think we can take a break. Your sorry state should suffice to move your friend to relent in his stubbornness…"
"Hmph…" Fenris grunted, trying to feign disinterest. He had wondered about the reason for capturing Varric and himself rather than simply killing them and hauling Sebastian away, particularly as Ija had seemed so sure she would kill Hawke. He had assumed it had something to do with the fact the woman was obviously a sadist… "I'm not sure how you think hurting me will convince Sebastian of anything…"
She sucked in a leisurely breath, she put her glass down on the table with a heavy thud before languidly taking a few steps towards him, a sure smile on her lips all the while.
Fenris wanted to recoil but even if he hadn't been strapped down to the chair so tightly he would have struggled to back away given the size of the room.
She leaned into him; he could smell the liquor on her breath, make out every scar that made her tanned face seem somewhat edged… see the darkness and malice that gleamed in her eyes…. Making her seem almost feral…
"Do you know," she asked quietly, "the best way to frighten someone?... I'm not talking about scaring them… I'm talking about true fear. The type that strips a person down to their soul."
He answered with a stony expression, not wanting to know the answer.
"You don't hurt them." She continued when faced with his silence. "You make them think you're going to hurt them. You make them think of everything that you can do to them. Every way you can wound them, make them suffer and cause them pain… and then you show them what you're capable of so they know you're not bluffing…"
Fenris knew instinctively that this woman would never bluff, and given her description of how she'd hurt Hawke… he felt very very cold.
….
