Hello all, and thanks for reading this far! My goal is to update this story monthly, but the next two chapters need to some major overhauling from the original draft. I will endeavor to have them up in a timely manner, but until then, thanks for your patience!
"War is not its own end, except in some catastrophic slide into absolute damnation. It's peace that's wanted. Some better peace than the one you started with.
-Lois McMaster Bujold, The Vor Game
The bedrolls Garrett and Fenris slept on were thin, hardly better than sleeping directly on the limestone that made up the cave floor. Garrett had given Fenris his robe as extra padding for the night, but it couldn't have helped much. The elf's sensitive skin must have made the poor accommodations unbearable for him. Garrett had fallen into a deep sleep once he'd lied down for the night; Fenris had only managed a few hours, after succumbing to exhaustion.
Garrett slept longer than he'd intended, judging from the amount of light that coming through the mouth of the cave. Every inch of him ached, partly from the poor sleeping conditions. The mage sat up and rolled his stiff shoulders. There was an ache in his very bones, a kind of tiredness that sleep alone could not relieve. Fenris was already awake, sitting nearby. Wordlessly, he handed Garrett his robe, ebony black with a crimson mantle that covered Garrett's broad shoulders.
Garrett yawned hugely, and accepted the robe. "Did you sleep last night?" He asked, pulling on the robe. His position as the Champion had made it possible for him to wear such garb openly, though that seemed likely to change soon.
The dark circles under Fenris's eyes answered Garrett's question for him. Even so, the elf nodded. "Enough."
He was lying, and they both knew it. But Garrett also knew better than to challenge Fenris on it. He could lash out quickly at others, even his lover. Especially after a bad night. Garrett stretched his arms out in front of him. "Now, let's see what the slavers left us for breakfast." Ignoring his stiff muscles, Garrett removed the heavy lid from a nearby barrel. "Ah! Fenris, will you take hardtack, or hardtack?" Setting the lid down, he opened another barrel. "There may be some salted pork in here." He peered down into the cask, then shook his head. "No, just more hardtack."
Fenris gave Garrett the glimmer of a smile. "Hardtack will suffice."
They took their flavorless meal to the mouth of the cave, letting the morning sun warm them. "This brings back memories." Garrett took a careful bite of his rocklike biscuit, and winced. "Carver nearly lost a tooth to this stuff when we worked for Athenril. He didn't know you needed to soften it first. We used to dunk it in our coffee."
"Coffee?" Fenris asked.
"A hot Antivan drink. Athenril always had some on board. It's the only thing I miss about that particular arrangement." He smiled, and leaned into Fenris. "It's dark and bitter. No wonder I like it."
Fenris rolled his eyes. Garrett fell silent. He ran his thumb over the rough edge of his hardtack. "Carver," he said softly. "Do you think he's safe right now?"
"I doubt anyone would try to kill your brother," Fenris said.
"But he still could be in danger now, and it'd be my fault."
"The abomination's fault," Fenris interjected.
Garrett thinned his lips. "That I helped. I stood for magic. I thought was my heritage, but now the only family I have left may be in danger because of that. Because of me. Again."
Fenris wove his hand around Garrett's waist. For once, he had nothing to say about magic.
Garrett closed his eyes, treasuring the closeness of Fenris, the familiar comfort of his presence. "I just wanted to keep him safe." Garrett's voice was soft, almost a whisper.
"I know." Fenris cupped Garrett's hand in his. "Maybe Varric will have some answers for us."
Garrett nodded, and kissed Fenris. His lips were dry and tasted of the briny air, and of an uncertain future.
Garrett and Fenris picked their way down the mountainside, alert to any signs of danger. The rest had Garrett regained some of his mana, though he hoped he wouldn't need to draw on it. It seemed unlikely.
Fenris's sharp eyes spotted the refugees first: a small group of humans trekking up the coast, wearing neither heavy armor nor mage robes. "Garrett."
The mage nodded in acknowledgement, and gestured to an outcrop of stone. The pair ducked behind it, out of sight while they watched the travelers.
Fenris's reached for his greatsword, but Garrett held up a hand, signaling to wait. "They don't look like highwaymen. Maybe they can tell us what's happening in the city."
Fenris nodded, but kept a hand on his sword. "Be careful."
"When am I not careful?" Garrett gave Fenris a cheeky grin.
"You're never careful," Fenris drawled.
Garrett gave Fenris a quick kiss on the cheek, and stepped out from behind the rocks to greet the group.
"MAGE!" The group's leader, a man with an impressive mustache, shouted before Garrett could say anything. Swords were pulled from their sheaths; a woman loaded a crossbow.
"Wait!" Garrett held out his hands before anyone moved. He took a quick survey of the group: two men with swords, a woman with a crossbow. "I'm from Kirkwall, too. I just want to know what's happening in the city."
"That's not just a mage, Ephram," the woman called to the leader, her crossbow trained on Garrett's chest. "That's the bloody Champion!"
Ephram's eyes glowed with rage. "You!" He leveled the tip of his sword towards Garrett. "You're the reason the damned city's in pieces!" He let out a cry, swinging his sword in an amateurish way that would have made Aveline cringe. Garrett thrust his hand forward, throwing up a barrier of energy in front of himself. The blade deflected sharply to the right, and nearly out of Ephram's grip.
In the span of a breath, Fenris was at Garrett's side. "I told you to be careful." The elf unsheathed his greatsword just as a crossbow bolt whizzed by his ear.
Garrett grabbed his staff. Cold energy gathered at the glowing tip, frost creeping down the shaft. "Stay back!"
Ephram ignored the warning. Sword firmly in his hand again, he raised his arm to strike at Garrett. In an instant, Fenris was between them, lyrium markings blazing blue. The elf's greatsword easily blocked Ephram's, just as another man ran at Garrett.
The blade of his longsword flashed in the morning light. He thrust it forward, aiming at Garrett's chest. The mage's hand flew out, releasing shards of ice in a half-circle around him. They pierced through his enemy's hide armor, leaving his foe howling in pain.
Garrett whirled around to see Fenris, and a sharp cry of pain escaped him. A crossbow bolt had struck him. It had pierced through his robe's padding, biting into Garrett's shoulder. It stung, but he had faced worse injuries.
A wicked grin gleamed on the woman's face, but it disappeared when she saw her target still stood. She took a few steps backward, fumbling to load another bolt. It slipped from her grasp and fell into the sandy soil.
The ice barrier faded, leaving a struggling, bleeding man. A quick slash from Fenris's blade ended his suffering. Then, Fenris turned his attention to Ephram. With a shout, Ephram lunged forward. One skilled stroke from Fenris's sword all but rendered him in two.
The woman screamed, crying Ephram's name. "You- you-" Rage filled her voice. Her cheeks burned red with fury, even as tears rolled down them. "You bastards, you demons!" Despite her shaking hands, she managed to load another bolt in her crossbow. "I'll kill you!" Her trembling fingers squeezed the trigger. The missile flew wide, missing its mark.
"Enough!" Garrett shouted. "Fenris. Leave her."
Fenris whipped his head around to look back at Garrett. "This woman just tried to kill us."
"She's no match for either of us. Let her go."
"Very well." Fenris frowned, but lowered his blade.
She threw her crossbow to the ground and ran past them to Ephram's body. Neither of them looked back to see her cradle Ephram's head in or hands, or give him one last kiss on bloody lips.
A safe distance away, Garret and Fenris paused to treat the mage's injury. "I never knew you to spare an enemy," Fenris said, watching his lover heal his wounded shoulder. The bolt had not penetrated too deeply into Garrett's flesh, thank the Maker, and the head was easy to remove. Garrett ran a hand over the injury. Pale blue light pooled in his palm as the wound closed.
"She wasn't an enemy, Fenris." Garrett let out a soft sigh of relief. He had not yet recovered all his mana, but healing had not tired him. He pulled the robe back over his shoulders. With a small shake of disappointment, Garrett stuck a finger though the hole the bolt had made. "I liked his one, too."
"She wanted us dead," Fenris retorted.
"If we killed everyone who wanted us dead, Kirkwall would be empty." "She was a scared refugee, like we both were once." He looked out over the Wounded Coast, where the high walls of the Gallows were already in view. "And I have a feeling she won't be the last we see."