Warnings: violence; light gore (that's an oxymoron isn't it?), language
Rating (for this chapter): +15 (materials appropriate for anyone aged 15 and up)
Review responses:
Aki: You are the bomb with detailed reviews! So to answer your plethora of questions (taking a deep breath):
Yes, Alistair will see Hadrian in his alternate form. No other details about this will be provided as it will spoil the story.
Yes, our heroes will undertake Morrigan's companion quest, but it'll have a twist.
Asha'bellanar is provided in DA 2 in one of the beginning cutscenes. I tried to come up with my dialogue but some will be from the game.
No, Flemeth does not know about the pact with the wolves; when she does, she's in for a big and nasty surprise
Like in the game, Jowan will still poison the Arl but the circumstances are different, which will be given in later chapters.
I think that covers the majority of your questions. :D Thanks a bunch for your reviews!
PS. Since this story has gone past 50 reviews (thanks to you), which pairing would you like to see in the promised one-shot?
A kid: Lol, believe it or not, I wrote a chapter on zevran flirting with Hadrian and Alistair getting jealous. I just didn't know if there was another way in bringing Hadrian and Alistair together.
David9999: I'm happy that you are enjoying the story. Happy readers encourage me to write more.
Exwaiz: Yep, they meet the Hawkes and this moment will change everything!
YoshisSupport: I was thinking of the same thing when I wrote this part. I haven't come across any stories with this alternative event occurring so I thought to have a crack at it. Since I promised you and Aki a one-shot story with your fav pairing, which one would you like to see?
Squeal! I love you guys! THANK YOU!
Chapter 19: Divine Intervention or Just Flying Dogs
If Hadrian expected no trouble upon stepping foot on the first sign of humanity, he was very wrong. As soon as he saw a group of travelers arguing with another group, this one consisting of unruly bandits with their poorly tailored clothing and rusty weapons, he groaned inwardly, thinking that the Maker had it in for him.
Morrigan was muttering something underneath her breath while Alistair looked upon the scene ahead of him curiously.
"Hadrian," Alistair whispered to him. The templar walked even closer to the man leading the trio.
"I know. Bandits," Hadrian replied in an exasperated tone. All he wanted was a nice, cozy bed. Was that too much to ask for?
Apparently, Regus was thinking of the same thing for he let out a small whimper before growling in a warning. The Cousland youngest petted his Mabari in an effort to soothe his Mabari hound. It wouldn't do for the whole group to be attacked just because of a misunderstanding.
They were close enough now to hear one of the bandits demanding for coin in return for entry and a desperate reply of having no coin coming an older lady.
"Look, all I ask is for 10 sovereigns. If you could afford that pretty sword, you can afford this fee," a burly man opinionated, his arms braced across his barrel chest. Unlike the talking bandit, his comrades were fully armed and some were even fingering their weapons, as if they were just itching for a fight.
"Mother," the man standing to the right of the old lady started to say. "It's alright. I'll just give him this."
His hand dug into his pocket. The man's eyes were fixed on the bandits, not wanting to take his eyes off a potential threat. A few seconds of rummaging through his stuff, he finally managed to retrieve a small locket. The burnished gold plating shone brilliantly and the leader of the bandits uncrossed his arms, the greed rising in his flat brown eyes.
The lad's mother, Hadrian observed, was absolutely horrified at the thought of giving a simple piece of jewelry to the bandits.
"No! That's your father's! You mustn't give it away!"
"I know. But it's all we really have at the moment," the man's reluctance showed in his eyes that shuttered closed for a brief moment before opening again.
That did it right there for Hadrian, who was quite intimate with the knowledge of losing something precious just to survive. He made to move towards them, trusting his companions to follow in his lead. They did and had covered his flanks, with Regus hovering close enough to his master to protect if need by but not to get in the way either.
Alerted to their presence, the leader's eyes darted to them and they held a hint of fear mixed in some of annoyance. Hadrian was pleased to know that the bandit was having second thoughts about conning a family of their heirloom.
"Like I said to this lot, 10 sovereigns to upkeep the road."
"I wasn't aware of such a toll. Usually, the bridges in villages are for public use and thus free for everybody," Hadrian said smoothly. As a noble, he was very aware of the infrastructure of society, from that of a village to Denerim itself. With the King's highways connecting the first outer lying villages to the cities, it was common for a fee to be charged. However, it was quite nominal, a request for 50 silvers, but the amount of people paying it made it profitable for the Committee of Commerce, which was honor-bound to utilize the money for the public. On the other hand, bridges built around remote villages such as Lothering were free of charge due to the paucity of the wealthy in rural areas.
The leader of the bandit grew flustered and then angry at being outwitted, not that he had any to begin.
"We were posted here to make sure only refugees can pass," the bandit retorted as calmly as he could.
"Uh, boss, these don't look like refugees," another man pointed out. His black eyes flickered nervously between his leader and the one who, though shorter than him, had an overwhelming aura, as if he was used to having people obey him. "They have weapons."
"And thus, they can afford the pay. Now pay up or face the consequences."
"Come on, Arren, let's just deal with them and move on," a brunette complained, his greatsword already in his hands. "we either lose our heirloom of our forefathers or get scratched. Either way, we're losing time!"
"Carver, hold your sword," Arren commanded and the young brunette obeyed albeit reluctantly.
However, the threat of an open weapon passed and the bandits withdrew their own, their eagerness for easy prey too clear in their ecstatic faces. The leader of the bandits had his longsword in his right hand and he barked an order for attack, to which his underlings obeyed with the enthusiasm of caged dogs hungry for food.
Hadrian, being closer to the leader and within range of the sword, parried a thrust with his hunting dagger. With the dangerous blade out of the way, he swiftly moved in and pivoting on his left foot, sidekicked him in the abdomen and forcing his opponent into the crates behind him.
The move had left his back exposed to another bandit. As the scarred man went in for what seemed like an easy kill, he found himself rooted to the spot. His blade, mere inches away from penetrating the Cousland's spine, stopped and the man let out a chocked cry of frustration as ice crept up his feet and then climbed its way to his whole body and covered his face. If the man had any hope that perhaps he would be released from his icy prison, it was dashed quite literally. One of his own comrades was fighting Alistair and was forced back with a blow to the face from a shield. Unfortunately he stepped back into the frozen man and the cold snapped him of his strength and agility. This brief lull of weakness allowed Alistair to finish him quickly with a frontal assault of his sword. The force of the strike was so powerful that Alistair's sword plunged itself through flesh and then ice. However, the Grey Warden's sword got stuck there and he experienced a moment of panic when he found himself without a sword.
A shout drew his focus away from the two enemies he dispatched and his face paled at the sight of a Greatsword coming down upon him. Great, he was going to get owned by some stupid, nameless bandit.
"Bethany! Stop that man!" Another man shouted and Alistair's eyes, already widened in seeing his death coming upon him so early, grew as wide as saucers at the sight of the man being electrocuted. He had never seen such powerful magic. The lightning tendrils wrapped itself around the man and his enemy screeched with agony. He let go of the sword, which fell to the ground and immediately picked up by the Warden. Without a moment of hesitation, he brought the sword up and loped the bandit's head off, grimacing as blood spurted out and splashed on his face. So much for taking that bath earlier this morning.
The skirmish with the bandits ended rather quickly and the only survivor was the leader himself, his quivering form found lying next to one of the downed barrels that had fallen in the fight.
"Please, don't kill me! I'm sorry!" He rambled, the fear plain in his eyes and having that pungent stench to Hadrian, who stood over the shaking bandit, his sword slicked in his enemy's blood.
"Where's all the gold you've conned from fleeing refugees?" Hadrian growled at the man and when the man didn't give a response, he crouched next to him so that he could see him on eye level.
"It's behind me, in those chests, along with some items. Take them! They're yours!"
"I say just kill him," Morrigan said from behind him. "It would be one less person to knife us in the back."
"Morrigan, that's just…that's cold! He's pleading for his life and you want to end it?" Alistair exclaimed, still shocked at how cruel this witch of the Wilds could be. The dark-haired witch just glared at him coldly before turning her cool gaze to Hadrian, who was still crouching right next to the bandit.
"Why don't we ask the bandit's would be victims, hmm?" Hadrian suggested, thinking that this would be more just than killing him.
The would-be victims were standing around the bandit, off to Hadrian's left side with Regus serving as a barrier. Regus, surprisingly, did not growl at the newcomers. Instead, he almost seemed happy to see them, especially the one with the Greatsword, which was now strapped to his back.
If Regus was relaxed around these odd-clothed strangers, then so was Alistair, despite his Templar self mentally sending off red flags at the presence of two mages in sight. He had seen the young lady's power and it scared him, seeing at how easily it incapacitated a man. Granted, the bandits were attacking them but now he had to worry about having three mages with him, not just the one witch with a stick up her butt.
Unlike Morrigan though, the two mages Alistair saw appeared to be genuinely nice people. The tall mage, the one who was willing to part a personal artifact to the bandits, had golden eyes, much like Morrigan's. The similarities though stopped there. While Morrigan's topaz orbs had a hardened edge to it, those of the man were soft and compassionate. Additionally, he and the young female standing next to him, were more modest in their attire.
They were both garbed in mage robes; Arren's was washed in colours of dark red and brown, which contrasted nicely with his female counterpart's of gold and black. They weren't the robes of a mage from the tower though and Alistair feared that the two mages before him could be apostates on the run from Templars.
What struck him as an oddity wasn't the fact that two mages here could be apostates but there was also an olde lady and the warrior, who was currently petting the Mabari. These apostates had people with them. He heard plenty of stories from the Templars at his monastery about the apostates and how they would sometimes lure people in with their blood magic to follow them around and do their bidding. However, those taken in by blood magic possess that entranced look.
These two refugees, however, did not appear to be entranced. Their eyes held too much of that freewill and their faces weren't abnormally pale as they would be under a spell. The movements of their limbs proved too smooth and best of all, they spoke their minds.
"Brother, I say we should kill him; he did try to attack us," the male answered in an aggressive tone. The man addressed as 'brother' by the young brunette sighed in response.
"It's because you had that sword out, which provoked them into attacking us, Carver." The tall mage's gaze flickered over to Alistair and his companions briefly before finally landing on Hadrian and the crouching bandit. "we'll let him go. He was desperate, that's all."
Hadrian, Alistair noticed, wasn't as willing as the other strangers in letting this bandit go and when the bandit started to scramble away, the senior Warden saw Hadrian's hand, that was placed close to the hilt of his sword, twitch for a minute, as if he was restraining himself. His friend's hand stayed though and for some reason, Alistair was a little bit relieved that at least one of them had self-control.
The bandit bid them a very hasty thank you and he took off running, heading past the bridge and into the northern woods ahead of Lothering.
With the bandit out of the way, the two groups now focused on each other. Wary eyes glanced over their counterparts and tension seemed to rise out of nowhere, despite having working together against a common enemy. Only Arren Hawke was unfazed by it all and his face broke out into a kind smile, which worked in relaxing Hadrian and his companions.
"I'm Arren Hawke and this is my family: Mother, Bethany, and Carver." Arren introduced his family to Hadrian who nodded in polite acknowledgment to each member. "I want to thank you for that."
"Don't mention it," Hadrian said rather shortly. Seeing that locket of Hawke and how willing he was to part with it brought up some unpleasant memories. His heart ached at how this man could still have his family while he did not. How ironic it was to have met like this! "Just can't stand it when you have to lose a part of yourself in order to survive."
Understanding echoed in Arren's eyes. It appeared that Hadrian wasn't the only person who suffered a familial loss. The absence of his father did not pass Hadrian's notice but the young Cousland thought it best not to ask about it. If he didn't want strangers prying into his business, he was sure this strange man would feel the same way.
"And your friends?" Arren asked softly. Hadrian's eyes snapped open. He hadn't realized they were closed.
"Yes, yes," Hadrian said, his words almost stumbling into each other. "Alistair and Morrigan. The Mabari's Regus."
Regus, hearing his name being called out, barked and he padded forward, his head nudging into Hadrian's thigh.
"A Mabari," Arren gasped and he knelt down, seemingly unafraid that Regus could knock him down and tear his throat out. He gently laid out a hand, palm up, to show that he meant no harm to Regus or the dog's companions. To Hadrian's surprise, Regus did not growl like he usually does with random strangers. Instead, he yipped happily and licked the young mage on the cheek, earning him a half-hearted protest.
"Brother, we should get moving; the darkspawn aren't that far behind us." Carver pleaded with his brother, who stood up but not before scratching the Mabari underneath the chin.
"I know, Carver."
"Where are you heading to?" Hadrian asked the man. "To Lothering?"
"Actually yes. We live there in fact."
"Ooh."
Hadrian wasn't expecting that answer. He had hoped to get into Lothering without garnering too much attention. Maybe there was a reason for this.
"Would you like to join us for dinner, perhaps? Mother makes really good soup." The mage acted as if he wanted Hadrian and his friends to join them.
At first Hadrian wanted to just continue on with his friends. He was about to say 'no' when his stomach chose that moment to growl at him.
"Well, I suppose, we can do that." He said as he rubbed his stomach. His friend gave a light laugh while Morrigan's scowl became even uglier. He didn't eat the breakfast I cooked for them! That insolent man!
"It's agreed, then." Hawke looked to his family to see if they had anything to say against. When he saw or heard none, he returned his gaze back to the odd-looking foursome. An apostate, two warriors, and a dog. Trouble always seems to find us. Maybe these four can help out.
-o0o-
Trouble came with a capital "T" and spelt out templar. When the two groups made their way through the bridge and down the steps, what they found astonished them, even for the Wardens. Everywhere there were people scrounging about and setting up makeshift tents; for those who were merchants or could afford one, some were in their wagons, trying to settle down for the afternoon and then evening.
Long faces and scraggy clothes gave off the appearance of desperation and helplessness in the observers' eyes. What tore at Hadrian's heart was seeing tiny children clutching at their mother's skirts or their father's leggings, crying for attention. One of the little boys painfully reminded him of little Oren, his young nephew who was lost at the Castle.
His eyes tore away from the heart-wrenching scenes and finally landed on the entrance, where someone stood guard. The sun shone directly in his eyes and he had to place a hand over his brow to be able to see the details of the guard.
The silhouette of the guard told him that he was a Templar. The shoulder pads were too extravagant to belong to that of a regular guard and the lower half of the Templar was covered by fabric. He couldn't really pinpoint the other fine details of the armor but that didn't matter. There was a Templar and he had three apostates with him. How in the Maker's Pits was he going to get by them?
Hawke found out why Hadrian was do distressed but unlike his new friend, he wasn't as bothered by it as he should be. He continued walking, his family following right behind him. Seeing as how there was no way he could persuade them to stay back, Hadrian decided that perhaps Hawke could take the lead for once.
"If you are refugees, you may want to continue on," the Templar stopped them with a hand raised up.
"Don't you recognize us, Ser Aldric?" Hawke's question baffled Hadrian and the others. This mage knows that Templar? And from the way he was asking that question, it seemed as if there was something more than just a Templar-mage relationship.
"Arren! By the Maker, I didn't recognize you! Your house is still untouched as I've been keeping an eye on it."
"Thanks. I was worried that with us gone to fight with the King and not being here..."
Ser Aldric brushed aside his thanks but he still kept his eyes fixed on the three strange travelers. He had never seen those three before and one of them looked like a very dangerous apostate who apparently did not mind that she was showing off the beginning of her assets to the world in that flimsy top.
"Who are these, Arren? Friends?" Hawke nodded in answer and Ser Aldric's fears abided. It was bad enough for the threat of the darkspawn hovering their heads. This village did not need dangerous people roaming around either.
"I see. Well, that's good because there's a lot of refugees coming through and with Loghain having taken all our men from here, we've little men to defend against the darkspawn."
"Loghain?" Hadrian asked after him, curious to know why Loghain would dry a village of its men and keep onwards. "When did this happen?"
"They left a few days ago. Why do you ask?"
Before Hadrian could give an answer that might have endangered his own crew, Hawke smoothly replied, by saying that they were glad of this news and that they all needed rest. Ser Aldric didn't push on with his questions. He gave them a perfunctory nod and watched the large group head to the bridge and take a left, towards the houses. Strange people nowadays.
-o0o-
Thankfully, the other Templars had convened at the local Chantry monastery and nobody else stopped them on their way to the Hawkes' house.
The interior wasn't exactly luxurious. The furniture was worn-out and the walls were faded and dotted with tiny holes. The living room the group piled into had a homely feel to it. A set of four chairs was placed in the middle of the room, circling around a small fireplace. The windows lacked curtains and, thus, sunlight drifted lazily into the house, making the house warmer than desirable. Luckily, winter was setting in and the added warmth from the sun would be a delicious welcome later in the evening.
While the guests stood around awkwardly, unsure of whether they should sit down or stand up, Hawke's mother briskly walked to the kitchen, which stood in the back of the household.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," Arren said, his hands gesturing to the chairs.
Both Hadrian and Alistair did not need any persuasion to do so as they almost made a beeline for the chairs. Morrigan stared at the last chair available as if the chair was a snake and coming to bite her.
"Go on," a female voice urged, "it doesn't bite."
It was the brunette mage who had spoken to her and she scoffed at the thought of that she, the great Morrigan, was afraid of a chair. She just didn't like how horrible it looked. She was about to say something quite nasty when Hadrian's eyes shifted to hers quickly before turning away.
"Why, thank you," Morrigan forced out her thanks. Bethany merely smiled at her and she moved into the kitchen.
A few moments later, the two groups were deep in conversation, swapping introductions and stories. Alistair and Carver were chatting together, finding common ground in the fact that they were both following in the shadows of someone else. Hadrian and Arren were discussing on the events surrounding Ostagar. The only person who stood out from the chattering was the Witch of the Wilds who looked up upon this scene with disdain.
She quietly sipped the hot soup given to her by the elderly lady and absolutely refused to acknowledge that the soup was indeed better than her insipid breakfast of charred Prakos and undercooked eggs Alistair had managed to find at the break of dawn. It was through sheer luck that everyone didn't get sick afterwards. Perhaps it was because they hadn't eaten the bloody eggs.
The mother of the siblings sat next to her in contemplative thought. Morrigan wondered on how long it would take before the same old questions of 'who are you' and 'where did you come from' would dribble in.
"You are a Witch of the Wilds, are you not?"
Morrigan almost spat out her soup and she had to quickly swallow the hot liquid, wincing as it burned its way down her throat.
"And what if I am?" She challenged the older lady. "Your two children are apostates."
"Yes, and I won't have it any other way." The older lady said resolutely. The old lady threw her an answering challenging glare and Morrigan was pleased to see that some women had backbone these days. "The people here know us. They don't know you."
The threat of ousting Morrigan as an apostate to the stationed Templars wasn't said but the witch could certainly feel it hovering her like a thick blanket. She could take out five or six by herself but a whole company of Templars could take her out, especially if they were well organized.
"But don't worry. You've saved Arren from giving away his father's heirloom, at least one of them anyways."
The mother took another sip from her cup of tea. Morrigan, her curiosity getting the better of her, asked what the heirloom was exactly and why the father wasn't here. Strangely enough, the old lady skillfully evaded the question, giving vague answers here and there. To Morrigan, this woman was hiding secrets and she left it alone at that.
It wasn't until the fourth hour to the dusk that the trio finally took their leave. Hadrian felt it best to look into the local bars and then the chantry for any news about Loghain and the Blight. They were due north no matter the news and Arren seemed genuinely sad on their leaving. Carver had tried to persuade them into staying but the leader of this ragtag group was determined in going somewhere.
Seeing as how this could be their final farewell, Hawke took Hadrian to one side, away from the others. Of course, this prompted suspicions about the two and Alistair felt something tug at his heart when he saw the men whispering covertly to each other. He saw something swapped between hands and heard words like 'father' and 'loss' being exchanged. Did Hadrian lose something more than Fergus out in Ostagar? He knew that people had their secrets but it just bothered him when Hadrian couldn't confide in him about it. Instead, he confided in a complete stranger, who could be a blood mage for all he knows. Then again, Alistair wasn't exactly acing in talking to people about his secrets either. He really needed to talk to someone about it and Morrigan certainly wasn't going to listen to him.
Morrigan, for her part, was tapping almost impatiently until Hadrian finally broke away from Arren
"Are you sure you don't want to go with us?" Hadrian asked. "The darkspawn are coming this way. Don't doubt that."
"We don't want to burden you as it is."
"Well, if you change your mind, we'll be at the end of the bridge tonight."
"Ok, take care." The Hawke family waved them goodbye and as the door closed shut behind them, all three of them felt something had indeed changed. What, they didn't know and they had a strong hunch that this wouldn't be the last time they would see their newfound friends.
-TBC-
Wow, this chappie came really easy to me and I just started typing away. For those following my Transformers fic, dont' fret! I'm still updating it; it's being done very slowly...very slowly as the plot is complicated and I have to sort out some details in my head before I type it out.
As always, I would love to hear your opinions about the story in general; do you like the character analysis? the plot? If you have any ideas or suggestions, please feel free to post it here in a review.
Thanks again for reading! :D
NP