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A Match to Tinder	By : Anesor Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4095 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age 2, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Aldera is my character, as are a few new ones.

Chapter List
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-- Tevinter Highway, Silvencoomb

Aldera Hawke:

Silvencoombe hadn't provoked any bloodshed so far, which I counted a piece of Maker-given luck. Once the mess with the pets was settled, Merrill collected her purchase and we left for a small inn we'd passed on entering the town. There we rented rooms, even if it was only a brisk mid-afternoon in autumn. Anders wanted to move on to a smaller village for the night, but I needed more rumors and news; finding that village that Sigrun said was closest to the Ashes was more important than speed. I'd only seen a single Templar in Silvencoombe as we moved about; she was out of uniform, about my age, and not that clear-eyed anymore from lyrium. We should be safe to stay overnight.

Merrill wanted to refresh Anders' hair dye while I was going to work the crowd in the tavern. When I left, his face looked like Mew's after a sudden downpour: hurt and betrayed and wet. Merrill hummed something as she worked, but he glared at me.

The tavern had merchants and the people from their caravans, all trying to finish a last run before travel got too risky with the winter. This made for a noisy room as I tried to get more news about villages in the area, even those up into the mountains. I actually asked about winter stops, mostly to find Haven; Haven which had been an Avvar cult village before the Blight from what Sigrun told me. Beyond Haven were the Ashes, I hoped.

I just couldn't get much solid information about the villages further into the hills, settlements not served by the highway. I wasn't sure if it was because my armor marked me as a stranger, or they didn't know anything here either.

So I spent the rest of the evening and into the night eating and drinking as I talked weather and roads and crops and trade, hiding my real questions in with the chaff. A few games and bar challenges, I was careful there. Later as the senior merchants went off to sleep, I was able to question the younger ones more freely as the alcohol loosened tongues. Such was what I'd been doing ever since leaving Orzammar, even if I wished I'd had Varric's help for this; he made this a lot more fun. Reeking of ale and hopeful drunks every night really wasn't any fun.

Neither would climbing up to our cheap room under the eaves when I was too close to drunk.

When the last of them passed out or lurched off for bed, I left my last half-full mug on the table. I still wasn't happy with the things I'd gleaned tonight, and worried my careful way back up to our room. I didn't know how long Justice was going to be mellow after Orzammar. I didn't know if the Chantry had a permanent presence where the Ashes were found. I didn't know how long we had before winter made travel almost impossible.

My worries about this were starting to make sleep difficult every night, and getting drunk so I could sleep was a relief even if I could tell Justice disapproved. My greatest worry was that I didn't know how long I could keep this search a secret from Anders and Justice. I liked the ideal of justice, Thedas needed more fairness, but they were no longer just. Back in Halamshiral, I was scared even if I didn't want to admit it even to myself. What if they turned on me too? Anders wouldn't, but his spirit no longer had a semblance of calm like he had in Feynriel's dream. Would Justice see me as a threat if they knew? Would we even get this chance for a cure?

And my other worry was the fear that even a miracle couldn't heal my mage. The Ashes cured a powerful poison from what the tales said, maybe a magical one. But Anders' problem wasn't a matter of physical healing. I couldn't find any believable tale of other recent cures by the Ashes. I had no other ideas, and little hope if there was no miracle. We couldn't go on like this.

I reached the door of our room and leaned against the scarred wood, feeling almost defeated. It felt so cool and solid and real. Moving suddenly seemed a huge effort as the smallest sounds seemed to echo in the lare night silence. After a week or two I heard Paws' whine from inside, and I lurched to the side enough to open the door; then I swore when a stray splinter from the door jamb sliced into my forehead and bled.

"Hawke?”

I felt a nudge on my side and a whine from Paws.

Anders wasn't as polite as he paused in the doorway, probably to look at me. “Hawke, what are you doing? You reek of carelessness and alcohol. This is a distraction, you have been beguil... ” A tiny pause and then he continued, pulling me gingerly into his arms. “Don't do this, at least if you can't... stay with me, take Merrill with you.”

The burn from the splinter stopped suddenly, but my head was heavy and my thoughts more sluggish than I expected. Putting my arms around him, I mumbled into his neck. “Love you, not Merrill... well not as that way... she looks breakable and likes demons and blood and she's a girl.”

“I've noticed that.” Anders sighed but his voice had a smile. “Let's get you cleaned up and into bed.”

“Fine with me, I'm really sleepy.”
The next morning I was hungover, but once we were on the road I told Merrill and Anders about the towns and villages near here, and why they might be promising... or not. The next town on the highway's loop around the lake was Cragscar; a den of thieves with such a reputation that we had no plans on stopping there. It was just too dangerous. Others like Hybluff, Dreadon, and East Uzmoor, each had some potential as a place to hide. Haven, I didn't mention at all to Justice. I'd heard rumors that people were living there, and they weren't that friendly.

I didn't know anything about these people, supposed to be Avvars, other than they were barbarians rumored to not follow the Maker. A town of people like that should be a very safe place for Anders and Merrill. Or the people living there could also be a Chantry's worth of Sisters and Templars, and possibly the worst place for us. My being Champion wouldn't help here even if I announced it.

I'd steal some of the Ashes if I had to. I thought Andraste would understand necessity.

A cold, freezing rain came in the afternoon and travel got risky so we stopped early for the day; I hid in our tent with a tiny brazier as I added to our map. We planned to wait out the squall, and hoped it was only a warning of winter. I thought we were about a week from Haven, at most.

The road was cold, clear and dry in the morning, though there was some recent debris on the road from other travelers, maybe heading for Redcliffe and the Bannorn where it was slightly warmer. The roadbed was getting lower as we got closer to the lake, though I doubted we'd see many others.

Anders didn't do anything for my headache in the morning. I suspected Justice was being a pain again.

We marched along the Highway, sometimes debating whether there was a better word than marching. Other than that we didn't talk very much. Maybe it was the threatening weather and cold breeze, but I didn't think anything about not seeing locals on the highway. They'd know the customary weather better.

Then I heard a shout and the deep thrumming of far too many bowstrings, a sound I hadn't heard since Ostagar.

I'd never wanted to hear it again.

During my first seconds of panic, I looked about for darkspawn and then to Anders for which direction had the biggest threat. Then I heard shouting as warriors, human warriors in unmarked armor, swarmed over the western, uphill wall of the highway. That this wasn't darkspawn was only sinking in as I heard a second volley of arrows.

I tossed a grenade as I was moving towards the warriors, then I spun at the nearest with my daggers. The Celebrant sword was only a bulky prop. The first warrior, a red headed woman who reminded me for an instant of Aveline was choking when I killed her. I'd killed my third before I realized there were more than I'd realized at first... dozens. Scores.

Too many.

This already was a larger company than anything I'd faced since the Qun uprising and at Ostagar. A weight settled on me. I hoped to take as many as I could with me into the Void. And hoped that Anders and Merrill would get away.

A bolt just missed me as I spun to locate the leader; it felt like an oddly quiet battle. Our opponents shouted oaths, grunted when knocked over, and their armor made sounds, but none of them spoke otherwise. No one made threats or even said why they were attacking us. Anders and Merrill chanted spells and Paws was close to me, ripping the throat of someone I'd already injured.

Him, I commanded to get over to Merrill; she'd get him away and take care of him if we died.

A sudden electrical storm struck among our attackers, with lightning so close that my hair stood up enough that I could feel it under my helm, even in combat. The wind picked up strength, making missile attacks chancy now. Anders finished his spell and the wind rose even more, into almost a gale force and a wave of sleet hit the bulk of the company attacking us. That slowed them at the least.

That still left a dozen too close to us.

The next warrior, wet and singed, skidded into his attack; I killed him quickly. After the next few went down, I had seconds free where I could look for the leader. Kill her and her men would worry if they'd get paid or they'd lose morale and run. At least that's how I got to be Champion, more or less.

I charged into the closest clump of warriors, so using a bow was too risky for their own men. Already I could taste the coppery blood from the fighting and I'd already lost count of how many I'd killed. I kept moving: tumbling, tripping them, and scanning for my target, ever scanning as I kept moving and between kills.

Some more grenades, grabbed at random and tossed; one exploded with the nastier cloud of magic into the middle of some archers and they screamed even as they died. I couldn't think about it or even pace myself, they were too many. The next one was a smoke and I used my brief cover to check on the battle again.

Anders looked white as a sheet, with sweat all over him as he forced himself to cast spells in that armor. I felt a surge of healing magic before one of the warriors exploded into stinking gobbets nearby. Paws was over by Merrill; she didn't look like our attackers had gotten too close, but I could see a red haze around her as she cast more spells.

I couldn't afford to get upset about that right now.

We were holding our own, and amidst the shouts and armor I heard a straining voice barely through the winds. “Andraste, save us.”

I rushed in that direction before the accent truly sank in.

It wasn't far and I knocked that stupid armor over the edge of the road with some shout I didn't remember. I followed, with my anger pulling me after him.

I landed beside him and shoved against the solid breast plate before he'd managed to recover from his fall, knocking him to the ground again. He, and his kind had been the source of most of the bad things in my life, from my father's early death to our desperate gamble in the Deep Roads where I lost my sister. He would not have lifted a finger to help her, despite how she helped avenge his family. I stopped whatever I was shouting to fight in earnest.

I knew how he fought, his bow as an awkward club at best and rarely did he use a dagger. He knew my style too and I lost one of my daggers. Both angry, I don't think we bothered with anything but fighting snarls as we were too close for anything but hand to hand.

Sebastian might be taller than me, but I'd fought too many much bigger than him... and I had several more daggers. I didn't have to think after this many fights, I just wanted all the hypocrites to feel real pain, not their imaginary phantasms and fear mongering.

It was vicious with cuts and blows deflected by armor or a last instant dodge. But some still hit, on both our parts. But finally my greater experience at knife work gave me an opening. The enchanted Qun blade slid right through the chain-mail mesh into his stomach and slid easily until it hit something harder than his guts.

Surprised at what I'd just done for an instant I didn't finish the drag to gut him, I looked at Vael's face and didn't feel anything right then.

Blood spilling out from his wounds, his hands had gone to vainly staunch the wound gushing even if I hadn't pulled the blade out. He looked surprised too. “Hawke, how could you betray... ?”

Betray? Me? I saw red again and clenched my fists. “You ass. I'm the only one who hasn't betrayed anyone or any vows. I spent almost ten fucking years trying to fix the problems of that city. From rescuing youngsters to killing the murderers of your family. I tried everything I could to protect the innocent, even if it put me at risk from magistrates and magisters. Where were you most of that time? Did you step up on your own and put your own ass at risk for anything for other people, or only when you wanted vengeance? You're part of the Void-blasted problem! You hid in the Chantry unless dragged out, instead of helping to make things any better, you Useless. Piece. Of. Shit... ”

I wanted to pound his face. I needed to. I'd put up with his prejudiced... no, evil opinions for too long. He would have killed me, killed us, destroyed Bethany only because he was scared like a little child. Well, I'd make him fear death and pain for real, not some delusion about magic. He should feel the agony and the grinding of bone against bone without any magic for him to blame. He'd stopped looking snotty... finally.

I blacked out, my fists slippery with blood.

-- x --

Anders:

When our attackers came into view, I lost count; they were much more than a score. I regretted that I was in the wrong armor, but now it was a matter of fighting or dying. This wasn't some bandits wanting our money, or Maker forbid, pillaging. They didn't even ask.

They didn't panic either when Merrill and I cast our spells, they were expecting magic. At least they didn't seem to have magic or Templars, so Justice wasn't angry.

I cast my magic, but there were too many now; I needed to tap that nearly-lost cold spell again, even if Hawke wasn't dying... yet. Justice, help me now!

He didn't argue and my mana flowed a little better as I brought a second storm on our attackers on the heels of Merrill's. Any melting snow would make Merrill's electrical magic more effective.

Then I alternated cold magic with other protective and targeted spells, feeling dizzy between castings. We knew couldn't afford that weakness, not if we wanted to help the mages. Steadily, we wore them down, with Hawke taking care of the stronger and the stragglers that our magic didn't finish. There were less than a dozen left when Hawke shouted, and I looked over to see her knocking one off the highway and she leaped after him.

Another few spells and Hawke didn't climb back up. I ran over and saw the end of a fight between Hawke and Sebastian where she had advantage. Breathing a sigh of relief, I took a quick look over at Merrill and she was finishing the last of the prince's hirelings.

The sickening sound of a beating, of bones fracturing and cries of agony, pulled my attention down again.

Hawke was beating him, even if he was now helpless and had a fatal injury. She never did that. But now she was beating him like she was enjoying it, with unholy howls of joy.

My heart breaking at seeing how we'd broken her, I leaned over and cast an old spell that wasn't useful in a fight. Dera wasn't an enemy, but I had to make her stop.

Feeling like I was an old, old man, I climbed over the wall and carefully dropped down beside them. Hawke had collapsed, partly on the body, but she breathed steadily. When I got closer, his eye struggled open and widened from some emotion, fear or anger was hard to tell.

His bleeding had gotten more sluggish and he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even spit at me.

Ignoring him for the moment, I lifted Hawke off and laid her out a step away, outside the pool of his blood. She had only minor injuries, nothing worse than I'd healed many, many times. I lifted a strand of bloody hair off her face after I healed her.

It might have looked like I was thinking, but my mind was empty. Even my spirit was quiet while I wasn't thinking. When I turned back to the dying prince, his eyes tracked my motion. Maybe he expected me to rant or snigger or gloat at him, but I healed him. First enough to stabilize him, and then I removed Hawke's dagger from his gut, healing as I did. I wasn't pouring healing into him, I didn't know how much longer I would be conscious myself and I wasn't about to heal him that much.

His voice raspy, he grated out a single word. “Why?”

I had no good reason right now, and smirked. “I'm a healer... you're an idiot.” I wanted him to chew on that for a while.

Or not. I didn't give a damn what he thought.

But Dera shouldn't kill him like that, and witnessing that as it happened made me sick. I put him to sleep and tied him, with my eyes dragging shut over and over. Paws led Merrill to us and she insisted I drink some potions despite my reluctance.

One wasn't a lyrium potion and I found myself fully alert again.

“I suppose I needn't ask why you and Hawke did not return to the road.” Her voice was deliberate as she weighed the arrival of Sebastian. She smiled at me and added, “This was a rather small army, certainly not enough to destroy Kirkwall.”

I sat next to Hawke and carefully held her in my lap. I wanted her to wake, but she looked peaceful. “It was nearly enough for his plans.”

Kneeling beside us, Merrill asked gently, “Why does Hawke sleep? What happened?”

Bracing myself, I admitted, “She wasn't just going to kill him, but wreak vengeance for... I don't know, everything she and her family suffered even if he wasn't involved. That wouldn't be just.” I felt a pang as I said that as well as a faint approval within. “I hope she isn't possessed, but I'm afraid to check.”

“I don't remember agreeing to some demon's suggestion,” Hawke said dryly from my lap before stretching.

Glad that she'd calmed down, I kissed her, ending only because her mabari shoved his head against mine. I sputtered. Paws slobbered her face. Hawke pushed him away with a scold and then a snicker.

Then she stopped and asked in surprise, “He's tied up?” Dera's voice was cold with rising with disbelief.

Merrill looked at both of us and moved over to the steps up to the road that I hadn't noticed earlier.

I could hear no sympathy or guilt, so I carefully answered. “Yes. I didn't want him trying anything when I passed out.”

“Why's he alive? He's part and parcel of the problem, sheltered by power and money of both his family and the Chantry. I'd have thought Justice would have burnt him from the inside out, slowly.”

Was this really Hawke's voice saying that? Her sweet voice suggesting something that cruel? “He's also a pampered child with no persistence. Some new offense will get his butterfly attention and he'll invade Wildervale for insulting his family's memory...”

Hawke started showing more emotion. “That is garbage. He's never really made something or made the world better. Destroy some bandits. Find some plotters. Destroy a city to avenge one woman. Has he ever done anything as useful as building a bridge or sponsoring an orphanage? Did he personally help any of the meek or humble people like his Chant proclaims? You did. Did he even consider building a chapel down in Darktown, where people needed hope and jobs that Aveline won't arrest them for? No, he tried deal-making with the nobles to help him chase power, ignoring the influence he had.”

“Hawke...”

“No. I spent how many years hoping he'd see just how rotten the Chantry edifice has become. There may be good people there, but most are lazy bigots who can't even follow the words of their prophet. Why didn't the Circle get encouraged to start a clinic like yours? Why was that idiot of a First Enchanter the only one free enough to help fight the Qun? Are they that stupid to think the Circle mages would prefer to become Sarabas?”

I heard a faint wheeze from Sebastian's direction, and realized I should have gagged him. I spoke, hoping to distract her away from her anger. “To be fair, not many know about the Qunari mages.”

“Yes, but he does. And considering the Marches against them, I really hope the Chantry would be training its sisters and brothers especially after what happened in Kirkwall. Many mages are believers or persuadable, but not the Qun. The Qun seem to respect only martial power. The laugh is that they thought I had it.”

“You do, Hawke. You somehow defeated Meredith and escaped the city.” His voice was weak, but the princeling could not shut up, even while he was tied.

She leaped over to haul Vael up and snarl into his face. “My friends and allies stopped her and the idiot Orsino too. When someone goes insane, sane people step up to stop them! Where were you? Wallowing in your rage throughout the emergency? Looking for someone else to act for you? Adults have to put the things aside when lives are at stake.”

Vael glared at me for an instant. “He caused it. How many died who weren't... Elthina?”

“Do you argue about a pickpocket inside a burning house? Anders was standing right there and he confessed. Did the lunatic Templar arrest him? Did she even try? No, why bother with arresting him after he admitted what he did, she rushed away to kill all the others, the innocent ones. She didn't care about guilt, only about destroying innocent mages; proving that it isn't about mages who behave, only about exercising power, the same right to kill innocents like Tevinter has always done. How can you even pretend that is morally superior?” Dera was shaking him, but not poised to slit his throat.

“Elthina was not Meredith...” Sebastian protested.

“No! She was in some ways worse. She set Meredith in place and refused to remove her. How many times did we ask for her help? Even for moderate action to calm both sides. You were there when I tried to convince her to go, she didn't listen to either of us. Sloth or pride, she refused to see the truth about the dangers. Did Andraste sit on her ass when Tevinter ruled the world? Did she proclaim that the magisters and slaves would work it out on their own like the Grand Cleric did? Why would the slavers bother with compromise with Andraste before an army was gathered, they held all the cards in that game of diamondback until there was an army. Meredith did in Kirkwall, too.”

I wanted to grin. Some of this was like what was in my manifesto, but some wasn't.

“If Elthina made a mistake, it was to allow the Champion's pets their freedom; that doesn't mean she should die. She... was a good woman.” Sebastian was trying to get free, but not getting very far.

I knew very well how hard it was to argue when bound or chained. Watching him struggle amused me. He had never suffered what every Circle mage had.

It is right for him to suffer what mages endure with no recourse.

Yes, but we can't keep him like this forever.

Leave him like this, right here, to die alone like the mages do!

That bothered me. Vael was angry at the murder we'd done, the deaths we always knew weren't just: students and any innocent visitors inside the Chantry. They deserved justice too. He wasn't really afraid of mages like Merrill and myself. I'd sometimes thought he might become an ally as his fear was just Chantry teachings, and not fear from his gut.

“... just a single mistake. She would not admit that her so-called plan wasn't working anymore, if it ever might have. Outsiders could see it was failing from hundreds of miles away and came here to warn her to leave Kirkwall for her own safety! You and I tried to convince her too! She said the mages and Templars had to learn compromise like small children, but did nothing to make the bully agree to any change. The mages needed hope, and she not only refused to do anything, but denied them even a hope of improvement in the future by her indecision.” Hawke sighed and seemed to realize the strangeness of their argument and dropped the archer back to the ground.

Sebastian wilted when reminded of Nightingale’s warning and didn't really seem to be listening when Hawke wound down to a stop. Hawke looked at me without the destructive rage she had earlier, a rage that I was afraid would destroy her.

“We need to talk,” I warned her.

Hawke nodded and noticed that Merrill was gone. “Paws, bring Merrill here.”

Between the Dalish mage and the mabari, Vael wouldn't escape.

When she arrived with the mabari, I pulled Dera off into the brush. We moved uphill and we could see Paws and our prisoner through the autumn denuded trees and brush. I pulled Hawke into my arms and held her tight.

“What are we going to do with him, Anders?” Hawke's voice was muffled against my chest. “Why isn't he dead? My blade went through him.”

I didn't quite have the words for my fears when she'd gone berserk. “You were so angry, too angry, Love. I don't want you to become Rage...” I rubbed her hair and tried to smile. Rage was demonic. “One of us with spirit problems is enough.”

“He'll never forgive you for killing Elthina. He was closer to her than his family. He will keep throwing money at assassins to hunt us, and he has a better chance than strangers.” Dera didn't lean back to meet my eyes.

I was afraid to as well. “I knew that I would be hunted, and accepted that months before we left Kirkwall. There is some justice to it, even if I still want to live.”

“It should not have been necessary. They left no peaceful means of change, not even an election of a new Viscount. How can we change things if we can't even convince one man who has seen most of the insanity?” Hawke laughed oddly. “Though he missed Meredith and her enchanted statues.”

Bringing a force to kill us was the first time I knew of that he acted. I suddenly thought it was terribly funny and started to laugh.

Hawke was probably startled and didn't say anything for a bit. She leaned back finally and was irritated. “What is so funny?”

Another snicker or two and I managed to speak clearly. “Don't you think this might be the first time he did something, really did something, without some nanny or minister to make it happen for him? How funny is that? It had to be funny with him dealing with the problems of a bunch of archers and swordsmen instead of retiring to pray.”

Dera's chortle was a relief. “I wonder how much equipment he had to buy? Aveline was always overunning the budget to equip new Guard, which was normal. They all looked like sell-swords, didn't they?”

“They don't look like any kind of trained and drilled troops like the Silver Order in Amaranthine or Aveline's guard. They'd have their own officers.” Justice was sure of that.

“I can just imagine him trying to quote from the Chant while a drunken brawl was spreading in front of him. Few experienced warriors are that interested in listening to a Sister when their blood's up, or when they are trying to enjoy their free time.” Hawke leaned against me again, hugging me close.

She was happier now, or as happy as she'd been for some time. So I had to get back to the hard question.

“What are we going to do with him? Do you really want to kill him?” I did and I didn't want to, and hoped she had a better answer. While he preached the Chant, he had not reported details to the Templars or Chantry about myself and Merrill, as far as I knew. He was biased and repeated their dogma without rational thought, but he was as reluctant to act there as he was in other things.

Hawke sighed and rubbed my back. “Not really. I've never had to kill someone I knew. I don't think we can let him roam free to raise more assassins and warriors.” She was silent for a few minutes.

I had no idea and just kept an eye on Merrill and Sebastian down below us,

Finally Hawke admitted, “It may be that the only way we could trust him is if he gives his word.”

“I'm not convinced he would keep his word about me.” I thought he have might trusted Hawke if I had died.

“I know.” Hawk finally spoke with dark humor. “We'll make him figure out what we should do.”

Leaning back, I had to grin. “He'll want me dead and you to become a Sister, shut away from the world for your sins at best.”

“Those are not on the table.” Shaking her head, Hawke took my hand and started back.

We moved back down and I checked his bindings, enough to make sure they weren't doing any real damage. I healed some of the strain from the bindings but refused to say anything as his glares.

Merrill had folded some blankets under him while we were gone. “He has been terribly grumpy while you were gone. Not even Sir Mew could cheer him up.”

Sebastian glared and stated as if for the tenth time, “I'd asked to be released.”

“You attacked us,” Merrill said pragmatically.

Hawke settled on the ground and said it baldly to Vael. “What do you think we should do with you, Sebastian?”

The surprise on his face was worth it.

--- x ---
A/N: The chapter title is taken from a quote by David Lloyd George. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be treasured forever.
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A Match to Tinder