Notes: Wooooow, this chapter got completely out of hand, largely due to an original scene at the beginning that I could not bring myself to remove. I had to cut the chapter off earlier than I intended.
Song inspiration is "Path of Glory" by Demons & Wizards.
Chapter 21: A Light Beyond the Dark
Waking up the next morning nestled into each other's arms had never felt better for the pair. They had not put any of their clothes back on, but even though winter was approaching, they were still plenty warm enough from a night of almost full-body skin-to-skin contact—and as soon as they were both awake, the comfortable intimacy of this situation made them feel even warmer.
"This, every day," Anders murmured, pressing her against his chest, running his hands up and down her back.
If only we could, she thought—but at least they would be able to wake up like this most days.
They knew they could not spend the day lounging in bed, sadly. Their child would be awake soon and there would be the usual bustle of patients and visitors. After a quick discussion, Caitlyn and Anders agreed that they should also pay a visit to Lowtown to tell Carver and Leandra their news.
Before they could do that, however, a father with a gravely injured nine-year-old girl burst into the clinic. The girl was wrapped up in a heavy bloodstained sailcloth, apparently to keep from leaving a blood trail behind—for which Anders and Caitlyn silently gave thanks; they did not need a fight with the sort of person who would try to kill a child. She was terrified out of her wits, and it was no surprise given the injuries she sported. These included, to Anders' and Caitlyn's shock and disgust, two stab wounds in her back—barely missing her heart and major blood vessels—and a nasty, deep gash in her arm. The man had also been cut up, but the child's injuries were far worse and very urgent, unlike his. She was ghastly pale and dying of blood loss by the second.
Anders did not ask any questions or hesitate for a moment; he was instantly in "professional Healer" mode, lifting the girl up carefully, laying her out on a sickbed, placing his hands over the two spurting stabs on her back, and immediately blasting her with the most powerful wave of healing magic he could produce in order to stabilize her. It was more powerful than anything Caitlyn had ever seen him cast; it filled the whole clinic with bluish light. Her father was caught up in it too, which helped his own wounds a lot. Anders' eyes turned bluish-white from this spell, but that faded. Caitlyn had rarely observed Anders like this; he usually wanted information from his patients before treating them, but that was so that he could tailor his spells and potions to their conditions. This child, however, would have died quickly without immediate intervention.
Who would do this? Caitlyn thought in righteous outrage. Fereldan refugee children in Kirkwall certainly were in danger, but it was usually from slavers who had an incentive, albeit an evil one, to keep them in good physical condition. Children who got sucked into criminality themselves would be in the same danger as adult gang members, but these children were almost always homeless orphans who turned to gangs to stay alive. This girl had been attacked alongside her father, however. What had happened here?
Mal was staring at the young girl, and Caitlyn realized that he had been doing so ever since she and her father entered the clinic. She regretted that he had seen such grievous injuries... but, as she glanced at him more intently, she realized that he did not seem traumatized or upset. Perhaps it was because he had also seen his father's magic in action against those injuries...
Anders breathed heavily, wiped the blood off his hands with a rag, and rummaged through his pockets. Finding a vial of processed lyrium, he downed it and returned to his healing practice. The little girl was no longer gushing bright red arterial blood; that wave of magic had been powerful enough to reduce her mortal wounds to ordinary, if still bloody, gashes. She was no longer in immediate danger of death now. He raised his hands over her and cast a series of spells to diagnose any additional problems.
Baldwin the mabari got to his feet and urged Mal away from the bedside, amusing Caitlyn very much indeed—but also making her grateful. Mabaris really were extremely intelligent dogs, and he seemed especially smart. She followed the dog and little boy, aware that there was little that she could do with the paltry general-purpose healing spell she had recently learned.
Taking another deep breath, Anders finally turned aside and gazed at the father. "She'll live," he said to him. "You got here just in time. She has suffered significant blood loss and will be weak for a while, but I can give her a couple of potions to speed the process of regenerating blood. The arm injury was deep but did not reach major nerves, so she shouldn't lose any ability to move it. The backstabs... hit her lungs, I'm afraid. I've healed the immediate injuries, but she will need to rest and not exert herself too heavily for a few days... if that's possible." Even as he spoke the words, he realized that it might not be possible. Someone could very well be pursuing them.
The man sank into an empty chair, eyes wide with anxiety. "Thank you, Warden," he said. "I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"It's enough to know that I saved an innocent life," he said, meaning every word. "If I may, though... what happened? Who would do this to a child?"
The man was extremely uneasy at this question. Caitlyn spoke up. "It's all right," she urged him. "We don't act as informers for anybody. Anders just heals the sick and injured. The reason he asked is that it is genuinely shocking to see such injuries in a child, even in Kirkwall. You were with her, since you were hurt too, but they obviously targeted her. That is... disturbing."
The refugee sighed, and his voice was low as he responded. "I suppose you'd want to know if this clinic is about to be attacked by the same people," he said, "but I covered her in that"—he nodded at the discarded, blood-soaked sailcloth—"to avoid leaving a trail. My name's Gawain. Idonia—that's my daughter's name—and I have lived in a rented loft in Lowtown. It's just us; my wife was an archer at Highever Castle and died when that traitor Arl Howe attacked. I worked there too, as a gardener, but there's not much a gardener can do to defend himself, you know? We didn't have any other children."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Caitlyn said gently, glancing up from the dog and Mal. "I lost family to the darkspawn. It's hard."
"I'm sorry for yours as well, then," he replied. He gazed at Anders. "I heard through the grapevine that the Hero, Lady Cousland, sent a Grey Warden Healer here to help Fereldans. Hoped I'd never have to avail myself of your services, despite that you know her, Maker bless her... but our loft is above a hideout where, er, certain activity takes place... and four days ago, one of the thugs tried to burst in on us, drunk, I reckon. Idonia, er, defended us. Unexpectedly."
Anders and Caitlyn gazed at the sleeping girl. They had arrived at the same conclusion. "She is a mage?" Anders asked.
Gawain glowered. "You're surely not working hand-in-glove with Meredith, a mage yourself?"
"Absolutely not," Anders said heatedly. "I despise her and her cronies more than you can imagine."
"I wouldn't count on that," said Gawain. "It was one of them who attacked my girl, not the thug. The thugs went to them and apparently avoided jail for informing on her! It was one called Alrik. He was going to take her away and I just wasn't going to stand for it, you understand? I heard that parents never get to see their children again if they go to the Circles, and she's all I have left now! I fought him and he turned violent against both of us. She did more than I could, in fact—seems to have a talent for ice! Still, we barely got away from him. Wish we'd killed him."
Alrik. That's one of the Templars Thrask warned us about, Caitlyn thought.
Anders was very, very close to having an eruption of Justice, she realized as she glanced quickly at him, remembering the spirit suddenly. She hoped he could keep Justice from bursting out. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself, as he replied. "I understand now, but I still think I despise them... about as much as you do. They made my best friend Tranquil. Anyway, I don't blame you in the least for saving your daughter, and you did the right thing. She is lucky to have a father like you." In a flash of inspiration, he gazed at the bloodstained cloth. "Did you want to take that with you? It's probably impossible to clean now..."
Confused at the abrupt change of subject, Gawain shook his head.
Anders turned back to Caitlyn. "Then, in that case... will you, love?"
She understood at once. Summoning her magic, she cast a small but effective fireball at the cloth, setting it aflame. Gawain stared at it, eyes wide, as it burned to ashes; then he gazed at Mal, and finally, he turned back to Anders, nodding in comprehension.
"There you have it," Anders said. "Your secret is safer than safe with us."
"I guess it is! I don't know what to do now, though. We'd probably better leave the city."
"Yes, you should, at once," Caitlyn agreed. "If you can, you should obtain passage back to Ferelden, since the Templars here know about your daughter."
"Yes," Anders said. "You said your family served the Couslands... you know that there is a new Cousland teyrn, right? The Warden-Commander's brother survived, and he rules there now. I'm sure he would hire you. Or you could go to Amaranthine, which is Grey Warden headquarters in Ferelden now. I could even send a recommendation letter with you to give to the Commander. She is generally sympathetic to mages, and there might be mages among the Wardens who could train your daughter in secret." He hoped he was not giving false information; after he left, the human-hating Velanna and the aged blood mage Avernus would have been the only mages in the Fereldan Wardens—but surely the Commander had recruited others since then who would be fit to teach a child.
Gawain considered that before briefly nodding. "It seems I'm in your debt even more. I'm much obliged, Warden."
The girl, Idonia, was waking up. Anders hurried over to her to talk to her about her injuries and what she needed to do to aid the healing process—as well as giving her some additional advice.
Caitlyn watched fondly as he explained to her that there was nothing wrong with being a mage, and about how she must never, ever, no matter how frightened she was, listen to anything from the Fade that offered a "deal" to her—no matter whose face it took on. Every time you show kindness like this, it reminds me of why I love you, she thought, smiling.
But this entire encounter had also reminded her of why it was so important for them to achieve their goal of improving conditions for mages. The dual evils of the Kirkwall Templars letting criminals evade justice by turning in a mage child and trying to tear that child from her father proved just how important that was. As she glanced down at Mal, who was mercifully distracted with the dog, she felt a pang of anxiety. This must never happen to him, she vowed.
Leandra was delighted when they made their announcement, pulling Anders into a hug, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
"Malcolm was so sure that it was meant to be," she told him, still not letting him go. "He was right!"
Amused, Caitlyn left him to her mother's tender mercies. She actually had a task that she wanted to accomplish: There were a couple of chests that her mother had brought with them but never opened, full of items that had belonged to the Hawke siblings' father and the Amell family. Some of them were probably specific to mages, so unless Carver eventually had a child who was a mage—actually rather likely if he and Merrill get together, she thought—she believed she should own those items. But that could wait until they owned the Amell manor again; her immediate plan was to find some sort of magical heirloom ring for Anders in these chests.
"What are you doing, Mamma?" Mal asked.
She realized he had crept up behind her and turned around to smile at him, showing him the sapphire on her left hand. "Your father gave me this," she explained, "and I want to find a nice ring for him now. I think there might be one in these chests."
"I can help!" he exclaimed eagerly.
Charmed, she let him, seeing no harm in it. Her mother had packed these chests, and she would not have been able to handle anything that was dangerous to the very touch. And in the end, it was Mal who pulled out the box that contained an enchanted ring on a chain. It was an emerald-studded gold ring for a man's finger, and Caitlyn could sense that it was enchanted to increase magic and mana regeneration. It seemed perfect, and she just hoped that it would fit Anders' finger. He could wear the chain around his neck if it didn't, and she could detect that the chain itself held enchantments, but the point of this was for him to have a ring that he could wear publicly. She pulled back the display piece inside the box and found a short note giving its name—"Ring of the Awakened," whatever that meant, but she supposed it was fitting for one who hosted a Fade spirit—and describing its properties. They were as she had detected.
Anders had managed to extricate himself from Leandra's hug when Caitlyn stood up and turned around to face him.
"Hold out your left hand," she said, opening the clasp on the chain and taking the ring off. "I'd like to see if this will fit..."
"You didn't have to—" He broke off as she took his left hand in hers and, to her delight and relief, slipped the ring on the proper finger without any trouble. It fit very well.
"I had to," she rejoined, handing the chain to him. He chuckled and fastened it around his neck. "We should both have rings, and since mine was a family heirloom, I wanted yours to be too!"
He smiled, admiring it. "It has spells on it. Yours doesn't. I should fix that."
"You are more than welcome to," she said with a smile of her own.
"I almost don't want to have a separate band for the wedding," he remarked. "How could that have more significance than these? They were passed down through our families... and they have a history. This is a man's ring... I'm sure it once belonged to your father, which means so much to me, love... and yours, of course..."
"Now symbolizes hope and love rekindled," she finished quietly, getting on her toes to give him a quick kiss. "I agree. Let's use these, then. It's our wedding, after all; let's do what we want."
"It is an Orlesian custom to have separate rings for betrothal and marriage," Leandra offered, overhearing the conversation. "In Ferelden, less wealth—even among the aristocracy—meant that couples usually use the same ring for both."
"Well, we are each half Fereldan," Caitlyn said to Anders, "and not Orlesian at all. There you are, then. We are observing our home customs."
"I guess so!" he said, smiling and admiring the ring. "Now let's just hope we don't have to wait too long for that initiate 'ally' of yours to become a priest. It's a shame we can't do it before we go into the Deep Roads... but... everything will be fine," he said at once, noticing Leandra's look of worry at those words.
It suddenly seemed ominous to Caitlyn, but she tried to push that out of her mind. It's just that so many bad things have already happened and we are traumatized and expect more now, she thought. This will be fine.
As the expedition approached, Caitlyn rushed the feather mantle that she was making for Mal. At this point it was just attaching layers of arcane feathers and sewing them to the backing, but it was boring, dreary, repetitive work, and she did not like doing it. However, when a package arrived for Anders from Elissa Cousland, containing small vials of the separate ingredients of the Grey Warden Joining potion, this starkly reinforced to her the fact that the expedition was very soon—and that she needed to finish her son's present first.
He will enjoy having this, she chastised herself one night. This isn't about me; it's about him. He idolizes Anders and wants to be like him, which is no bad thing! Anders exemplifies my father's personal ethic for mages: His magic serves the best in him, not the most base. I wish I could be as confident of myself in that respect; I'm the one who has been tempted to learn blood magic for no reason other than my own convenience. For three and a half years I regretted that Mal was not growing up knowing his father, but that has now changed. There are more important issues than my personal dislike of boring work.
After a night of determination and resolution, Caitlyn finally finished the feather mantle. The Deep Roads expedition would take place the day after the next, so she was pushing it to the limit, but Mal would have his "Healer coat" in time.
The little boy was prancing around the clinic excitedly, waving his hands, the feather mantle draped around his shoulders, Baldwin seemingly dancing with him in a goofy four-legged pantomime, when Carver entered, a deep scowl on his face.
Anders and Caitlyn had been in a gentle, side-by-side embrace as they watched their son cavort happily, Caitlyn leaning on his shoulder and growing increasingly ready for a passionate kiss. When Carver stormed inside, they drew upright at once, the moment lost.
"Carver? What in the world is the matter?" she exclaimed.
His scowl deepened. "The expedition sets out tomorrow," he spat.
Confusion filled her face. "And?" she said. "Bartrand Tethras has the money. What's the problem?"
Carver sat down apart from them and glared. "You need to talk to Mother and explain to her how it's going to be."
She suddenly understood. "You want to go along, and she doesn't like it."
He drew back in sudden irritation. "Are you on her side?" he demanded. He eyed Anders. "I suppose you think you have to go. Is that right?"
"I am the only one who has any experience in the Deep Roads," he said guardedly, "and I did foot close to half of the buy-in fee."
"Only because our uncle is a thief!" Carver exploded. "We could've earned that coin otherwise! Look," he said, gazing from Anders to his sister in turn, "Mother thinks that we shouldn't all go. At least one of us should stay at home, she says."
"And you are here to relay her messages?" Caitlyn said angrily. "She should come here herself if she has something to say to us!"
Carver glowered. "Yes, she should," he spat, "but I'm not speaking on her behalf. I should be a part of this! This is about my family too. If anything, you and Anders should be the ones to stay!"
"What, I'm not family anymore because I moved out?" she said hotly. "I don't think so. And he is going to be family as soon as possible. That excuse doesn't work, Carver."
"It's not that," he said mulishly. "The two of you have a small child. You've done your part, sis—and you too, Anders. I should do this."
Mal stopped prancing around the clinic and drew his thumb to his mouth in concern at his uncle's words. Caitlyn noticed and rose to put him to bed at once. It was late, and she sensed that this was going to get ugly. He did not need to hear it. She hated using a sleep spell on him... but she only did so when it was truly necessary, she consoled herself. Still, her earlier self-chastisement, comparing herself to Anders with respect to how she used her magic, came back to her mind as soon as she sent him to the Fade. I should try to stave off an unpleasant fight with my brother instead of anticipating it and forcing Mal to sleep so that he won't hear it, she thought guiltily as she returned to the main clinic.
When she sat back down, she noticed that Anders and Carver were glaring angrily but silently at each other. She decided to break the silence herself.
"I have to go," she said. "My name is on the contract—my name and 'three companions of my choosing.' Varric needs to be one; it's his brother who is managing this expedition."
"And I ought to go because I have experience in the Deep Roads—and because I am a Grey Warden," Anders interjected. "This is a Warden secret, but we alone can sense the darkspawn before they are upon us. We can also sense the general size of their groups, and the larger the group, the earlier we can sense it—which means that I alone could detect a large party of them and warn the expedition team to take another path. Everyone will be safer if I am along—and furthermore, Lady Cousland just sent me the ingredients of the Grey Warden Joining potion in case anyone gets the Blight sickness. I can't just blend them together and hand that potion out carelessly, you know. I have to go too, for safety's sake."
Carver glowered. "I'm bloody going. Mother thinks I'm still a baby, and if I don't do this, she always will. I see your argument, Anders, but I don't see why that contract can't be changed, Cait."
"You take that up with Bartrand Tethras, then," she retorted. "Dwarven contracts are basically ironclad. Set in Stone, if you will. But if you think I will sit back calmly while you two try to shut me out of something as important as this—"
"No one wants to do that!" Anders burst out. "But... your brother has a point, love. As awful as it is to consider... it is possible that nobody will come out of the Deep Roads. If that happens, what about Mal?"
Caitlyn's guilt at having sent him to sleep surged in her. Was she putting her child aside too much since she came to Kirkwall? She had meant that to change after they were settled in Hightown, but what was going on now did make her feel guilty. But guilt always had specific company with her, and that surged as well. "He is your son too!" she exclaimed. "Why should I be the one to stay? I can't believe this—two men who don't even like each other, but who apparently can agree on pressuring a woman to stay at home!"
Anders scowled; that seemed very unfair to him and was not at all his intent. "Sweetheart—"
"Frankly, I'm more capable than either of you, Grey Warden or not!" she exploded. "Who slayed a mature dragon? Who has the reputation of being tough? Varric recruited me because he'd heard of me. You are a fantastic Healer, Anders, but even you have to admit that I'm better at offense."
"You are, by quite a lot," Anders agreed, "but..."
"I'm not going to be a baby-sitter," Carver said sullenly.
Caitlyn closed her eyes and sighed heavily, trying her best to subdue her anger. "There is a danger that there will be no survivors," she grudgingly admitted, "but that danger is decreased if strong, powerful, skilled people are on the team. If I don't go, Anders will be the only mage in the group. Are you truly comfortable with that?" she asked Anders.
He sighed heavily. That was all the answer she required.
"I fought at Ostagar," Carver reminded her, his face down, eyes staring at the ground. "It was not lost because of lack of skill and talent. There were just too many darkspawn."
"This isn't a Blight invasion force; it's a section of the Deep Roads in a region that wasn't touched by the Blight at all. The dwarves think it'll be safer than usual because the Deep Roads across much of southern Thedas were emptied to support the Blight and haven't been repopulated yet. And even if the worst happens... Mother will be here. Mal will not lose his entire family."
Anders and Carver sighed in grim resignation. At last Carver spoke. "You'd better tell her, then."
"I? No, that's your job," Caitlyn retorted. "Anders and I have good reasons to go. If you are that determined on this, if you think that this is how you'll get her to see you as a man, then be one and tell her yourself."
Leandra's shriek of dismay echoed through the thin walls of the Lowtown hovel. "Something dreadful is going to happen, I just know it!" she exclaimed, clutching her grandson close. "I have already lost Bethany; now I'm going to lose both—all three—of you!" She dabbed at her tears.
Mal squirmed in his grandmother's arms and turned around to face her. "It's all right, Grandma," he said reasonably. "Mamma and Uncle Carver are great at fighting! And Father can make anyone well and he is a Grey Warden hero. It'll be fine!"
Caitlyn glowered at her mother for exposing him to her fearful outburst, despite the fact that Mal was utterly confident in his parents and uncle. Leandra stared back undeterred. "This is all a terrible mistake," she continued. "We should just rebuild gradually after all, rather than trying to win everything back at once. Your uncle gambled the estate away, but you are gambling your lives to get it back! No good can come of wagering..."
"The money is paid out, Mother," Caitlyn said, losing her patience at last and lifting Mal out of her lap. "We're committed." This only prompted an additional sob from Leandra.
Carver had stood aside, watching the conversation with guilt and angst on his face. At last he spoke up. "Excuse me," he said. "I'll be back shortly." Without further ado, he dashed out the door.
He was back in time for dinner, accompanied by Merrill. Caitlyn and Anders instantly understood.
"She'll help you with him while we are gone," he urged his mother. "She lives in the elven alienage, which is very close by."
"Yes," Merrill agreed, smiling at the young boy. "I don't even have to have the ball of yarn to find this house!"
"Ball of yarn?" Anders whispered to Caitlyn.
"Apparently something she and Varric arranged," she replied.
Anders tried to force out a laugh, but it was hard. For him, balls of yarn brought to mind his kitten, Ser Pounce, whom he had left with Delilah Howe and her husband before leaving Ferelden... This isn't helpful, he chastised himself. Pounce is in better hands. He picked up his cup and drank, swallowing hard.
By the end of the meal, Leandra had unhappily resigned herself to the fact that both of her surviving children and her future son-in-law would all be going to the Deep Roads, but she still did not want anyone to go back to Darktown the night before they all set out. Caitlyn and Anders were somewhat disappointed; they had hoped to take advantage of their privacy tonight, but they both supposed that they could give Leandra this.
Varric arrived at the house the next morning with Merrill beside him. It had finally sunk in with Mal that his parents were going to be away from him for several days, and he was trying to suppress sobs and tears. This, more than anything else that had happened, made Caitlyn question her decision—but it was too late now to back out.
She picked him up, hugging him close, as Anders stood inches away. "It's going to be all right," she urged him. "We're going on a treasure hunt! When we come back, we should be rich! Won't that be fun?"
The boy sniffled and managed a nod. "Grandma is worried."
"That's because she cares about all of us," Caitlyn assured him. "We'll be just fine! If we run into anything bad, guess what I'll do?"
"Throw fire at it?" he ventured in a wobbly voice.
She grinned. "Fire, frost, whatever works! And your father will throw lightning, and Varric will shoot it full of arrows, and Carver will then swing his blade at it. There are going to be other dwarves with us too, and they'll all have weapons. We'll come back with gold and then maybe we'll all move into a really nice house."
He breathed shakily and hugged his mother and father again. Anders felt a pang as his child's small arms left his neck. Surely this would not be the last time he ever felt that...
Varric understood that this was a poignant family moment, and to his credit, he did not interrupt or say anything at all until the group met up with Bartrand and his team. At that point, it was reasonable and expected to discuss logistics and expedition business. At last, after making a plan for who would do what, they marched out of the city toward the entrance to the Deep Roads.
Carver sheathed his greatsword on his back, Varric lifted up his mechanical crossbow Bianca, and the mages heaved breaths. Around and ahead of them, dead darkspawn lay on the ground, their bodies charred, frozen, or filled with earth and algae.
"I didn't expect to encounter darkspawn this soon," Caitlyn said.
"Nor did I... but this... is a good sign for the size of the treasure," Varric said. "For some reason, the buggers are drawn to gold and gems."
"I just hope we don't run into more than we can handle." For the first time, she was genuinely worried about that possibility. She wondered if she had simply avoided thinking about it, or rationalized it away, as a method of mental self-defense...
"I'll tip everyone off if I sense anything too big to deal with," Anders promised.
"And that'll be very helpful as long as we aren't caught in a corridor with nowhere to go," Carver groused. He did not want his companions, Anders and his sister especially, to see it, but he was having bad flashbacks of Ostagar and the escape from Lothering. Caitlyn probably was thinking of the latter as well, he supposed, and Anders was likely remembering whatever he had done in Amaranthine, but he was the only person here who had fought at Ostagar.
It had been unspeakably bleak and miserable that dark night, and Carver had felt more alone then than he ever had in his life. Lothering had been bad, and he was sure that Anders' Warden experiences had been tough, but they had both been surrounded by friends and family for those. I could die on a muddy, blood-soaked battlefield at the hands of monsters, far away from my family, he had thought at Ostagar—and then the darkspawn had charged, a seemingly unending wave of filth and mindless evil. That night, he had realized that mindless evil could win if it had strength of numbers—that no one and nothing, not even the Maker, would intervene to prevent that. He had barely made it out, and he had realized belatedly that the only reason he had survived at all was that his captain had assigned him to the back of the company due to his age. It shamed him, even though he knew that he would have died otherwise—but even there, he had had to fight off several genlocks before scrambling back to the road to Lothering. He had been afraid that he would develop signs of the Blight sickness; the filthy creatures had knocked him down and pawed at him as he struggled to get to his feet in the mud. At least that had not happened here; he was more experienced now and had mages and a very skilled archer by his side to take out most of the darkspawn before they reached melee range, but the memories of that doomed battle were hard indeed on him.
Carver opened the door at the top of the stairs—and was instantly thrown back by the powerful fist of an ogre, tumbling backward down the stairs painfully as the thing bounded down. A healing spell from Anders had him back on his feet, engaging the foul creature as the rest of the team attacked it. Caitlyn froze it in place, allowing Carver to recover—and then he noticed that his sword was also cold to the touch, frost emanating from it. A bolt from Varric's weapon zoomed past his head, also leaving a thin trail of frozen vapor in the air. His sister had cast a spell to apply this element to all the mundane weapons of the group, he realized. That would be incredibly helpful.
"Fuck you," he snarled at the ogre, which was rapidly thawing and now thoroughly enraged. Carver knew that it was not the same one that had killed his little sister; that one was long dead, but seeing one at all set off internal rage in him like nothing else could.
All four of them attacked the ogre, whittling away at it until at last it tumbled to the ground with a violent crash. Carver struck the killing blow. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his blade, feeling satisfied.
They were caught unprepared, expecting darkspawn—they had developed a certain synergy about how to fight them effectively as a team—but what awaited them in the next large chamber was not a group of darkspawn.
The dragon turned its head menacingly and breathed flame at them. Caitlyn was out front, and she took the worst of it, tumbling back, her robes on fire.
Anders moved to heal her wounds as she scrambled to her feet, utterly furious. "You!" she screamed at the dragon, raising her staff. "You picked a fight with the wrong person!" A blast of cold slammed the dragon, slowing it and encasing it in a layer of ice, though not freezing it through. "I've slain one just like you before and you're next!"
Varric was shocked at her ferocity. Shooting iced bolts at the dragon and its young from a relatively safe distance, he said to Anders, "Did she drink any dragon blood that day?"
"Not that I know of," he said, equally surprised. Caitlyn was inches away from the dragon's scales, in melee range beside her brother, generally very unsafe for a mage—especially one whose robes had been largely burned off—but the close proximity did give her the chance to hit the dragon with almost the full force of her winter spells.
Caitlyn seemed to have claimed the dragon as her personal quarry, evidently taking it as a personal insult that it had decided to attack her first, before she had even had a chance to give it a reason to deem her the biggest threat. She barely noticed the dragonlings, focusing all of her ire on the large one. Carver hacked away at the dragon and its young while the others picked off the dragonlings from a distance—Anders sending healing spells at them, mostly Caitlyn, whenever needed. At last, she cast a spell at the creature that froze it solid—and it tumbled to the stone floor, dead.
She turned aside, smiling fiercely, and for the first time, Anders truly noticed the state that she was in. Her robes were almost gone, burned to shreds that barely covered her. She was, at least, wearing a leather one-piece under them, but that too had been singed. Anders' breath caught in his chest—and he realized, simultaneously, that he had better control himself. This was not the time...
She bent down, making him avert his eyes out of personal necessity, and rummaged through the dragon's hoard. "This looks like it might fit," she said, pulling out a new, evidently superior set of mage robes in sage green. "I hate to think what happened to the previous owner... but they are back in the possession of people now." She smirked at the dead dragon. "That's what you get for flaming me because you think I'm the easiest to pick off!"
Is this entire expedition going to be a trophy contest between them? Anders wondered. Varric seemed to realize that there was a rivalry between the two siblings as well, and did not intend to take part in it at all. As long as things that tried to kill them were killed first, he did not care who did it—and neither did Anders. I just hope that they don't endanger themselves more than necessary in pursuit of this rivalry, Anders thought.
There are thaigs, and then there are thaigs, Anders thought in awe as he gazed around the vast chamber. Spires and veins of something that looked very much like raw lyrium, if lyrium were red, sprouted from the ground and through the stone walls. Anders felt oddly pulled in two directions by it. It sang to him, faintly, a strange, discordant, but somehow darkly beautiful and seductive melody deep in his soul, barely audible to his brain, but definitely there. The part of him that heard this song wanted to go and touch it—but another part of him was repulsed and horrified, and knew that this would be a very bad idea indeed. This part seemed most associated with the area of his mind that received Justice's thoughts. Justice, in fact, seemed outraged, though the spirit could not articulate why.
He gazed around; the others also seemed transfixed in various ways. Caitlyn seemed horrified too, and Carver was frightened. Varric was interested, but he was at least as fascinated by the ancient dwarven history here as by anything else in the thaig. Was this odd feeling truly because of Justice? Or... was there something else at work?
Bartrand Tethras strode to a small podium in the thaig where a grotesque statuette rested. He stared at the statuette, drawing the attention of the others at last, and picked the thing up. Strands of the mysterious red substance trailed from its base.
"Bartrand," Varric said, his voice suddenly edgy and uneasy.
The dwarf whirled around to face his brother. "This is worth more than the entire stash at the end," he growled. "I'm not splitting this three ways."
"Put it down," Caitlyn said. She drew her staff. "You're not yourself, Bartrand. This place—this substance—is bad. It's some type of lyrium, but... wrong. We should all leave immediately."
Anders blinked. Yes, he thought, we should all leave. She is right. This is lyrium—but something is very, very wrong with it. We are not safe here, this close to it.
"Oh no," said Bartrand, edging for the door. "I'm leaving—but you aren't!"
And he proceeded to evacuate the thaig and lock them all inside, the doors clanging shut with a heavy toll of doom.
"Shit," muttered Varric.
After that, there were far fewer darkspawn but far more spirit creatures. Some of them were familiar to the Hawkes and Anders, especially the two mages. Shades and demons were sometimes difficult to take down, but they had familiarity with them, Anders in particular. Others were strange to the humans' eyes: skeletal wraiths with bits of rock attached to them to assume something resembling a walking, upright form. Varric explained to the group, with more than a hint of disgust in his features, that these were the spirits of dwarves rejected by the Stone for wickedness.
"I've never lived in Orzammar," he muttered, glowering at the fallen form of one such wraith that had attempted to offer a deal, Fade demon-style, to Caitlyn. "They're all crazy there, and this dwarf shit just reminds me of how crazy."
"Crazier than your brother?" Anders said, unable to stop himself.
Carver stopped in his tracks and shot him a harsh glare. Even Caitlyn was shocked that he would joke about Bartrand right now. It must be some sort of mental defense...
Varric eyed him darkly. "Shut it, Blondie. Save the jokes for when we're all on the surface again and I can send my fist safely into his damned teeth."
"The Vault," Varric breathed. "The dwarves would have brought their..."
Something rumbled behind them.
"Oh, that can't be good."
An immense skeletal wraith, garbed in bits of rock, rose up. It was clearly not prepared to give up its treasure without a fight—but by this point, all of the companions were prepared. Their blood was up from fighting smaller versions of its kind, and they were ready for it when it began to shoot spikes and lightning bolts around the Vault at them.
Carver drew his blade and bounded forward for the thing to hack and cleave at it from close quarters. Caitlyn thought that he was a bit slower than usual... but the wraith's attacks kept her from thinking too hard about that or what it might mean. She, Anders, and Varric positioned themselves apart and proceeded to attack the thing with their strongest attacks. After an initial round of trial and error that inadvertently put a mild burn on her brother, Caitlyn found that the thing responded best to ice—and immediately cast that persistently on Varric's and Carver's weapons before sending another blast of the raw element at the wraith itself. Anders was not as good at elemental magic as she was, and he also had to keep a close eye on everyone's physical condition, but he took note of this apparent weakness and added his own spells whenever he was able.
The creature disassembled itself, collapsing into a pile of rocks. Caitlyn let out a whoop of triumph, certain that they had defeated it and the treasure was theirs—but her joy lasted no more than a second. In the next, it reassembled, a rock from its makeshift body knocking her aside as it reformed itself. All the breath was let out of her, and she was fairly sure, as she tumbled to the stone floor, that it had broken a couple of her ribs.
I have to get up, she thought—but it was painful, so painful. She struggled to her feet, aware that the rock demon was going to crush her into the stone if she did not get out of the way. The thought of Mal's heartbreak, which would last his whole life—and her mother's—and the fact that her brother, her fiancé, and her best friend would all have to witness her violent, horrific death if she didn't get out of the way gave her the strength she needed to ignore the pain and struggle to her feet.
But Anders had already acted—or, rather, Justice had, or perhaps the spirit's Vengeance aspect. The spirit had taken control of him when Caitlyn did not immediately get to her feet after the blow, and he had charged out to engage the wraith furiously. Caitlyn had just stumbled a few feet away, hiding behind a nearby pillar, when the wraith sent him flying backward, landing with a sickening thud on his back, out cold. In the next moment, the wraith began to fill the entire chamber with a strange red light.
"Anders!" she screamed at him, but there was no response. As she peeked her head around the pillar, she was caught in the radiation, and she could tell immediately that it was draining and debilitating. Behind a different pillar across the room, Carver and Varric stared out helplessly at Anders' unconscious form. Several thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant.
Anders is going to die out there, she thought, staring at him. He's already badly wounded, and this red light is going to finish him off. I have to go out there—brave it—and pull him back. Carver and Varric could pull him out of there, but they can't do anything else for him. I'm the only one who can. I have to do it.
She remembered the healing spell—the one spell that she knew. Casting it quickly on her throbbing side, she felt relief when the pain lessened somewhat and it was no longer torture to move. If she had more time, she would have analyzed the light to determine if she could cast some kind of magic shield against it, but all she needed to know was that it was not immediately fatal. She just needed to get Anders back to her safe spot before she gave out too.
The effects of the draining light hit her instantly when she darted out of her safe area, but the blasted wraith itself was not moving, at least. She reached him, felt for a pulse—thank the Maker, she thought as she detected the faint thrumming of blood in his wrist—and proceeded to drag his body back to safety. By the time she was out of range of the wraith's draining radiation, she was lagging again.
Him first, she decided, casting the basic healing spell at him as she rested his head in her lap behind the pillar. I don't know the really good healing spells, and I don't have a Fade spirit, but he can restore both of us fully once he's awake.
His eyes fluttered open, and a wretched, miserable groan escaped from his mouth. His teeth were bloody—though he did not seem to be missing any. He groaned again, staring desperately at her. Beneath his skin and behind his eyes, bluish-white crackles of light flashed, though it was apparent that he was fighting the spirit.
"That's all I can do, love," she said unhappily, holding him and staring at him with wide eyes. "That's all I know how to do. If you can't... if you're not able... let him take over if you have to."
He relaxed, apparently only requiring permission from her, and she watched in awe as Justice assumed control. She expected him to leap to his feet again, the Fade blazing out of his eyes, but instead, the spirit yielded after a moment. Anders' eyes turned back to their own, human appearance.
However, this had rejuvenated Anders, and that was apparently Justice's purpose. Anders reached for his staff, sat upright, and cast a powerful spirit healing spell that healed both himself and Caitlyn, who was caught in the glow. He fumbled in his pocket for lyrium and downed it, but he was as good as new now.
She felt embarrassed and grossly inadequate, with her paltry, partial, basic healing spell for one person that she had only recently learned—but he could tell, and he instantly enveloped her in a hug. "I would have died," he whispered to her. "All my spells are useless if I'm unconscious. You are the reason that didn't happen."
She wanted to hug him back, but in that moment, the wraith ceased this attack and assumed a new fighting form. The four companions bounded out to resume the fight, confident now that they could handle anything it dished out.
The battle against the wraith had been bruising, but no one had fallen again, now that they all knew what its capabilities were. It was a long, slow grind, but at last, they had defeated the thing, liberating the treasure that it had guarded.
And what a treasure hoard it was! This is more than enough to buy back the house, Caitlyn thought excitedly as she gazed upon chest after chest of gold and jewels, with even more treasure piled loosely around the chests. She recalled her nightmare of a couple of weeks ago, in which the expedition had been a horrible disappointment. That part was certainly false—and no one had died, either. It was just a stupid dream after all, then.
Carver's breath hitched in his chest as he picked up a heavy gold belt to admire. He sat down hard on the stone ground and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It caught Anders' attention, as the Healer had restored the entire group after the wraith collapsed for the final time. Carver should not be suffering from ill health anymore, after that...
"Anders?" Caitlyn asked nervously as he approached her brother, deep alarm in his brown eyes.
Carver closed his eyes, still breathing deeply. Something was definitely wrong. He would not ordinarily let Anders approach him without lashing out or acting defensive.
"Oh, Maker's blood," Anders cursed, drawing back. He buried his head between his knees and began to mutter incoherently to himself.
"Anders—what is the matter?" she demanded sharply.
Carver opened his eyes and stared ahead. "I'm unwell. I guess he knows something. What is it, then? Just give it to me straight."
Not this again, Anders thought, keeping his eyes closed and his head shielded between his knees. Not again. Maker, why? Hasn't this family suffered enough, damn it? Justice seemed outraged on the Hawkes' behalf too; it really did seem like far more suffering and loss than one family could ever deserve. That horrible day on the Lothering road—Malcolm Hawke's collapse—his recognition that he was suffering from...
"Anders!"
He raised his head and gazed miserably at everyone. "Carver is infected with the Blight sickness."
Carver, oddly, took this better than anyone else. Varric cursed under his breath, and Caitlyn burst out with a denial in anguish. "I'm sure it's true," Carver croaked. "It must have been the ogre." He gazed at the blond mage. "You have that potion?"
Anders grimaced. "Not the potion itself, but I have preserved ingredients—but Carver—it doesn't always work." He gazed miserably at the young warrior. "I've seen it happen. Some people survive to become Wardens... and others die immediately. And there is no way to predict who will have what fate."
"I'm going to die anyway if I don't try," he said resolutely. "This is a chance. I want to do it. Caitlyn—tell Mother, if I don't make it out of here, that we did everything we could, and that I'm sorry."
Anders closed his eyes, hoping it wasn't a foregone conclusion. At least there is a chance now, he thought, still thinking of Malcolm. Maker curse it all if Carver dies anyway, but at least there is a chance that he won't. I couldn't save Cait's father... but maybe, just maybe, I can save her brother from dying of the same thing. I owe it to them to do this, if Carver wants it.
"Very well." He turned to Caitlyn and Varric. "To the Void with Grey Warden secrets. You two can watch this if you want. I don't give a damn." He hesitated for a moment, reconsidering. "But... there is a chance he won't survive, and if you don't want to see that..."
She considered. "What does Carver want?"
He shook his head. "I don't want you to watch me die. Either of you. I'm sorry that you might have to see it, Anders..." The words were obviously very difficult for the warrior to get out, and everyone in the Vault could tell that, but Anders did not make a joke or any sort of inappropriate crack about it. It struck him that at last, when it was possibly the end of Carver's life, he was finally able to be civil with his intra-familial nemesis. That made him very sad, and he had yet another reason now to hope that Carver would survive the Joining. If they shared the darkspawn Taint...
"It's part of the duty of a Grey Warden," Anders said as Caitlyn and Varric left the Vault to wait in a side chamber. He reached into his pack and took out the vials of darkspawn blood, processed lyrium, medicinal herbs, and a tiny amount of Archdemon blood collected from the corpse of Archdemon Urthemiel by Lady Cousland herself. She was Joined with the blood of Archdemon Andoral, preserved magically for centuries, he thought as he compounded the potion, but Carver—if he survives—will be Joined with the blood of the same one that I was. We'll share that too. He picked up a small gold cup from the treasure hoard and mixed the ingredients in it.
"The Grey Wardens typically say some things before the Joining," he said, a wry smirk forming on his face, "but I don't actually remember any of it, and it's pretentious ceremonial rubbish anyway."
Carver laughed and accepted the gold cup. "To the Void with that. Time is of the essence, isn't it?" He smiled darkly at the cup. "I suppose this is the only use I'll have for any of this treasure."
"Yes, please keep that," Anders said dryly. "Nobody should drink from it afterward."
"Bottoms up, then." He tilted the cup and drained it, wincing deeply as he swallowed the foul mixture.
Anders watched, his heart pulsing audibly in his chest—but Carver did not collapse forward in a coughing fit. Instead, he fell backward silently, his eyes rolling back in his head, the sign of a successful Joining.
"He survived," Anders said to Caitlyn and Varric as Carver slept it off. He survived, he thought, marveling over the words in his own mind. I was able to save a Hawke from the Blight sickness. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Malcolm... but I saved your son. Although he knew that Carver had a tough life ahead of him in many ways, at least he had a life ahead of him. For the first time since Malcolm had died, and Anders had been unable to do anything to prevent it, he felt a sense of peace about his old mentor's premature death.
Caitlyn gazed up at him. Her face was streaked with tears, and beside her, Varric had been wearing a very grim, dire expression on his face—an expression that lifted at Anders' words.
"The dream is false, then," she whispered as Anders sat down beside her. "At least... the parts about the expedition. Because of you."
"Because of you," he said firmly. "I didn't have that potion compounded; some of the ingredients don't last long after the preservation spells are taken down. And the recipe is a secret, so I didn't have it written down either. If you hadn't saved me from that wraith..."
"Then both of you would have died," she whispered, horrified. "I would have lost both of you..."
"It didn't happen," he said, cuddling her. "Carver will live. He's sleeping it off right now, but as soon as he awakens, we'll gather this treasure and head back to the surface."
"What's going to happen to him?" she asked. "Is he going to have to go back to Ferelden?"
"He doesn't have to—unless the Wardens of the Free Marches insist on it," he said. "When Lady Cousland sent me the ingredients, she gave me instructions about that very matter. It's up to the Joining survivors where they want to serve, she said—and the local Wardens."
"I don't know what he'll want to do. I just hope he gets to tell Mother, whatever he decides."
"I think there are some Grey Wardens in this part of the Deep Roads," Anders said, frowning. "I can... somewhat... sense them. It's possible they'll seek us out, because they can sense me too—and your brother, now, of course. I'll try to make sure they don't haul him off without giving him the chance to tell your mother about it."
Notes: Spoiler alert, but yes, he will get to talk to his mother personally before making his decision about where he wants to serve. (That was supposed to be in the chapter, but it got too long.) I think the Wardens treated Carver/Bethany pretty shabbily in canon—unless, of course, they didn't want to go on leave to visit the family. (Apparently they didn't write to them either, since Varric narrates that Leandra always wondered if Hawke lied to her about what happened to Carver/Bethany in the Deep Roads, so that is possible.) I don't see the purpose of it for storytelling or character development either way—harsh Wardens or Carver brutally ghosting his mom—so no to that here. I think I have written the Hawke/Amell family as much more dysfunctional than it even is in canon, but for all of that, they do love each other.
