Chapter Text
They’d made it to Crestwood late the next night. Ghelen forced them to rest at the outskirts camp set up by Scout Harding. Much to Varric’s dismay, the smuggler’s cave was on the complete opposite side of the region. They stood around the fire, which had been lit under an open walled tent, and stretched the aches they’d developed from riding for nearly four days straight.
“The people in Crestwood need help.” Cole stood beside the Inquisitor and watched his reaction. “Are we going to close the rift?”
“Yes Cole. We’re taking care of that first.” He saw the look Varric gave the fire and cleared his throat. “Besides it’ll be hard to discuss much of anything with undead shambling around.”
“That’d be best.” The dwarf nodded. “They’ve waited this long, one more day shouldn’t hurt.”
They caught a few hours of sleep before setting back out. The sooner the rift was closed the sooner the dead would stop rising. They passed the shoreline, drawn to the ominous green mist hovering over the water. Bright electrical snaps of magic would occasionally burst from below the surface, briefly lighting the darkness. Ghelen watched the shallow waves crash at his feet with a sigh.
“It sounds different.” Cole tilted his head to the side. “The water changes the song.”
Ghelen turned back to the lake, placing his hands on his hips as he searched the lakeside. “There must be a way to get to the rift.”
“You mean, aside from wearing all your armor and just wading in?” Dorian stood beside him leaning on his staff and watched a smirk appear on Ghelen's face. The entire ride here he’d seen the elf grow increasingly frustrated. He’d been terrified to ask how he was doing, concerned for him but also trying to keep his distance. The last thing he wanted was for rumors to run amok. Ghelen's position was still too new and under far too much scrutiny.
Their surprisingly peaceful walk to the village was brought to an end by two wardens protecting an elf from some wandering corpses. With their added help, they were dispatched of quickly. Unable to help the village and forced to adhere to their orders, the wardens begged the Inquisitor to help the people of Crestwood.
Varric noticed Blackwall stay quiet during the entire encounter which at first, he thought strange, but given that Blackwall didn’t even know the wardens had up and left, he wasn’t surprised. They watched the two wardens leave, commenting on their likelihood of involvement before carrying on towards the town.
Dorian however was not one to let what they all thought, go unmentioned. “To agree to become some wandering hero meant to protect people from blighted things and its like, and yet forced to abandon those very people.” Waving his hand with a flourish and sighing sarcastically, he glanced over at the burly man beside him. “I can't imagine why more people don't join the Wardens!”
“You need never worry about being worthy, trust me.” The warden grumbled.
“This is hardly about being worthy.” Dorian’s tone edged on indignation and his brow furrowed. “More so about doing the right thing.”
Blackwall had nothing to say in retort, clearly frustrated with something that not even Cole commented on. Soon enough they reached the village proper, the gates sealed shut as best it could be while demons and corpses rose from the lakeside. The five jumped to help, turning the fight to their favor within minutes.
Inside the saturated wooden walls, the village was in chaos. People running from house to house in search of spare logs or iron to help reinforce the gate before another bout of demons attacked. The Mayor seemed deflective of their probing. Almost against their decision to drain the lake before relenting and instructing them on how to do so. A fort would need to be cleared of bandits, and the mechanisms for the dam control would likely need to be repaired. They were in for a long night.
•••
Beth came up to stand beside her sister at the cave’s entrance. Watching her try to gaze through the flooding rain, searching for a familiar silhouette. “You know, they’re probably going to close that rift first. It might be a few more days.”
“I know… I just—“ Hawke sighed finally breaking away from the obscured horizon to stare down at her feet.
Beth smirked and flicked the feather tied to her sister’s hair. “This is new.”
“It’s Varric’s.”
“Figured. Who else would choose such fancy feathers for a pen?”
“I found it in the rubble when I got to Haven. When I thought I’d lost him…”
“Oh.”
“But I didn’t, so it’s fine.” Hawke shrugged, ignoring the frustrated look her sibling was giving her. “Leave it Bethy.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I said—“
“Ladies!” Alistair appeared behind them. “I don’t think the scenery will change much in the next day or so, let’s not have conversations out here when we’re supposed to be in hiding.”
“Right you are Warden.” Hawke gestured Bethany towards the inner cave. “Go on. I’m not a wanted fugitive anymore. I’ll keep watch.”
“This isn’t over Hawke.” Beth huffed and marched back in. Speaking to her sister like this was always impossible, and she wondered how Varric did it.
Hawke glanced behind her to make sure both Wardens were hidden away before returning to her vigil. Watching for any sign of Varric or the Inquisitor. Her mind had been a constant flood of self doubts and probing questions since she’d left him at the gates of Skyhold. He was right. That same suffocating grief she’d felt when her heart feared the worst, was the very same he did whenever she stood before danger. But he was also wrong. It would be damn near impossible for her not to protect those she loved. For her not to stand between him and the world would feel wrong in every fiber of her being.
You can’t let him stand beside you when it’s safer to be behind you.
The thoughts and doubts had shifted. Rather than fight her heart, they changed their tune. Using her own love of him against her. Sometimes the thoughts sounded like someone else, and she felt like she was loosing her grip. She shook them from her mind again. Instead focusing on the now, the rift, the Inquisition. Once they’d done what they could to help, their next task would be to return to Kirkwall. To rebuild the city they’d defended and to live the life they’d fought so hard for.
She sighed and grabbed her bow and quiver. They were low on meat, might as well clear her mind with a hunt.
•••
Ghelen walked ahead of the group, trying his best to scout the way but the wall of torrential downpour was making it near impossible. He groaned and stared out over the short drop ahead of them. The path they’d been following had long been washed away. He didn’t want to admit it, and he need not have to.
Dorian came up beside him and crossed his arms. “We’re lost.”
“Unconfirmed.” Ghelen grumbled.
“I believe your scowl is confirmation enough.”
“Fine. We’re lost. Time to start walking in a straight line.”
“What?”
“We’ll either reach the fort we’re looking for or the lake. Either way we can sort ourselves out from there.” The elf ran a hand through the sopping mess of hair on his head and huffed a heavy sigh.
Dorian watched this brief moment where walls were let down. Where the fearless leader dropped his guard to show hesitation and even a hint of regret. He wasn’t one for reassuring words or giving comfort. It wasn’t something he was even used to receiving, let alone giving out. But the pull in Dorian’s heart told him to at the very least, try. Before his feet grew as cold as they felt, Dorian reached over and took Ghelen's hand in his, patting it once before meeting the elf’s impossibly green eyes. The scowl had changed to knit eyebrows of confusion. The very same eyes silently asking a question, one Dorian wasn’t quite ready to answer. It was best to finish what he’d started though, before he got too caught up in watching the blush creep across Ghelen's face.
“You’re doing fine, Inquisitor. You don’t always need to be right, and you don’t always need to have a plan.” Dorian let his hand go and pointed behind them. “You do happen to have a very helpful spirit that could look about for us.”
Ghelen tore his gaze from Dorian to watching the boy in question. The instant his gaze left him; Dorian felt air rush back in his lungs. Maker’s breath, this could be a problem…
“Right… right. Thank you, Dorian— you erm— you always know what to say.” Ghelen chuckled nervously before walking back to the rest of their group. Dorian kept close behind, letting Ghelen's words warm him in this miserable cold.
“How do you get the hair on your face?” Cole was sat beside Blackwall staring intently at the burly man’s face.
“Look, ask Varric. He seems to have adopted you.” Blackwall jabbed his thumb behind him, gesturing at the dwarf busy fiddling with his crossbow.
“He doesn't have hair on his face. Is it a mask?”
“No, it's a beard. Look—“ Blackwall huffed, frustrated and obviously at war with how to approach the spirit. “If you were any other lad your age I'd tell you that one day you'll probably grow one too. Except I don't know if spirits that become boys get beards.”
“I could try.” Cole tilted his head, a rush of water that had collected on the rim of his hat slid off and splashed onto the muddy ground.
“Right. You go do that then.” Blackwall stood as Ghelen's approached. “Good luck. Have fun.”
“Cole!” The inquisitor knelt down beside the boy. “I’ve a question.”
“Yes I can do that.” Cole nodded. “Feeling stretched and thin. Like butter on too much toast. If I’m not careful I’ll crumble too. I can help, you only need to ask.”
“I— yes. Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it.” Ghelen blinked and the boy was gone.
“Think he does that on purpose?” Blackwall chuckled at the blank look of their leader’s face.
“Probably.” Varric huffed.
“Annoyed we’re not going straight to your lovingly murderous wife Varric?”
“No Sparkler, just need to replace a wire when we get back to Skyhold. I’m an idiot and didn’t bring any.”
“Ah. Well, there’s that. Yet one more reason to do this quickly.” Dorian leaned on a tree trunk, trying to be his usual nonchalant self, and the attempt would’ve worked if it hadn’t been for the tree pouring more water on the mage from his jostling. As annoyed as he was, he tolerated it just for the sound of Ghelen's hearty laugh. “The rain is definitely the biggest factor.”
Ghelen wiped the tear and rain from his eyes before taking a breath to calm himself. “It’s likely the rift doing it. At least that’s my suspicion anyway.”
They sat around chatting. Waiting for Cole to return with news, though with each passing minute Varric was growing nervous. A spirit he may well be, but Cole was still just a boy. He’d done his share of mental gymnastics, all to try to wrestle the guilt he felt at bringing him along in the first place. Ultimately logic won out, he wasn’t an actual child, therefore all this fighting wouldn’t have many adverse effects on him. At least not in the same way it would a human. If he says he’s fine, then Varric would just have to trust him.
Blackwall ripped him from his thoughts, and back to the present. “I've got one for you, Varric. Best tavern name you've ever seen. I'm torn between ‘The Bed and Bucket’, and ‘The Bottom of the Barrel’.”
“Ooh! That's a tough one. I think I have to go with ‘The Neighbour's House’. For sheer balls.”
“They’re frightened inside. Trapped by the walls that protect them.” Cole stood beside the Inquisitor, earning a startled jump from the elf. “Sorry.”
“So, figured out which way we’re going?” Varric stood properly from the boulder he’d been leaning on, relieved at the boy’s reappearance.
“Yes, but they’re holding people. Cold, quiet, Caer uncaring. They lock them up to give away later.” Cole seemed apprehensive, wringing his wrists constantly. “I’ve got to get out, or the Sunshine will glare in a way that hurts.”
“Varric?” Ghelen sighed and turned to the dwarf, having come to rely on either him or Solas to translate the oddities Cole spoke.
“Do they have Sunshine in that fort Kid?”
“No.”
“Damn it Hawke!” Varric ran a hand down his face, both furious at his wife’s inability to stay out of trouble, and worried for her well being. A part of him though, knew she would be alright, if anything this just meant the bandits had taken losses by dragging her in alive. “Lead the way Kid.” The others fell in line behind them as Cole lead. They were closer than Ghelen had thought, coming up to a small ridge that over looked the entrance to the Caer. “Alright Shiny, what’s you’re plan then.”
“I don’t see any archers on the battlements, though to be honest I don’t see much of anything.” Ghelen squinted through the rain, doing his best to block it with his hand. “I also see no reason why we shouldn’t just knock and say hello.”
“I could name a few. They’re usually in the shape of arrows though.” Varric sassed.
“I quite agree.” Dorian knelt beside them. “Cole, you wouldn’t have happened to see how many were inside, did you?”
“No, but they were all frightened.”
“We can use that to our advantage.” Blackwall crossed his arms, still glaring holes into the main gate. “That doesn’t look reinforced, the mage—“
“—I do believe I have a name—“
“—could blast it down, we charge in. If they’re really that tightly wound, then they’ll make more mistakes in a fight.”
“Take them all out before they’ve had proper time to adjust.” Ghelen nodded. “Alright, on my signal then, there’s someone on the battlements. A patrol probably.” He drew his sword while the others readied their weapons. Watching the lone torch work it’s way towards the stairs on the far left of the gate.
In the white noise of the rain, Cole’s voice seemed louder than it really was. “The stone is cracked, split, jagged. The hawk would have been safe if it had stayed, but that isn't what hawks do.”
“No.” Varric sighed, gripping the stock of his crossbow tighter. “…and sometimes it kills me.
•••
Hawke came to slowly, bringing her surroundings into painful existence. Each blink in time with the throbbing she felt at the back of her head. The clink of a chain caught her attention, but turning her head to see what caused it was deemed too painful. She heard murmurs, and felt a hand touch her forehead. The shapes around her came into focus and she glanced up at an older man pressing a damp cloth to her head.
“—bastards were rough with her.”
“Dab Thomas, don’t wipe,” an older woman’s voice carried over from the other side of the room. “or you’ll get the dirt further into the cut—“
“I know woman! I’m tryin’ it’s hard teh hold the cloth with my bones the way they are—“
“If you two don’t mind.” Hawke groaned as she tried to roll onto her side. The cold and damp stone floor was far from comfortable, but the thought of sitting up made her nauseous. “I’m trying to sleep off this headache.”
“It’s going to take more than sleep to get rid of it.” The rough hand that had been trying to clean her wound, gripped her arm and helped her sit up. The rattling chains settled with each move she made. “How’d they catch you then?”
“I was out hunting game.” Marian rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room. There were three others with her, all chained to the damp stone walls. An older man beside her, grizzled by a life of manual labor under the unforgiving sun. A woman not much younger than he chained opposite them. She seemed unable to tear her eyes from the cut on the side of Hawke’s head. And a girl of eight or nine, chained beside the woman and curled on her lap. “Why are you here? What are they doing to you?”
“Calm yourself child. They haven’t hurt us, not yet at least.” The old man huffed and sat against the wall next to her. “They keep mentioning some Orlesian place to the west. Think they plan to sell us to a mine. Figured the wisest thing would be to not fight them…”
“A mine?” Hawke vaguely remembered hearing the bandits she’d found carrying red lyrium mention a mine. One in the icy mountains in Orlais. “Well, I’m not one for manual labor.” She took a deep breathe and pulled herself to stand, pressing her weight on the wall. The chains were bolted into the stone, though a single lock held the chains to both herself and the old man. She followed them down to a second metal fastening on the ground that fed to the cuff around their ankles. They were solidly made chains, unlikely to break with just brute force, but the bandits had done little in ensuring the locks would be out of her reach.
“Right, and what exactly are you going to do about it?”
“Grumble, grumble, he goes.” Hawke muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from the young girl. “What are yer names then?”
“He’s Thomas, this here is Kyrsta our granddaughter, and I’m Alda.”
“Lovely to meet you all, though I wish it’d been under better circumstances. How’s you get captured?”
“I’m the Groundskeeper of this here Cear. Have been since the last one had run off.” Thomas watched Hawke examine the lock on her ankle, sitting once again in order to properly look at it.
“I see. Well, fear not, these locks only have three pins. It’ll be simple enough to pick them.” Hawke pulled a thin lock pick from the inside of her boot and immediately set to work. She’d almost finished unlocking the last lock, Kyrsta’s, when boots could be heard in the hall before the heavy wooden door slammed open.
•••
The fight for the keep was long and grueling. Right as they would finish one skirmish, a second wave of bandits would rush down the steps hardly giving them a moment to breathe. It wasn’t until they all came face to face with a towering Avvar warrior that Varric started praying to whatever there was for this to be their last fight. He was exhausted and there was still no sign of Hawke. Granted they hadn’t searched the dungeons yet.
With the final blow from Ghelen, and the resounding crack of the giant man’s skull, their adversary fell, staining the stone beneath them. Dorian mentioned something about flying the inquisition’s banner and using the fortress as an outpost, which Ghelen agreed to. Though Varric was hardly paying attention. Once the flag was flying, Varric immediately turned his attention to searching every room.
“Hawke!” He’d shout at every locked door, before kneeling and picking the locks, only to be greeted by an empty room.
“Persevere, protect, prevail. That bastard hit me harder than I thought, Maker it’s cold.” Cole appeared beside him and pulled on Varric’s sleeve. “She’s this way. Come on.”
Varric followed close at his heels as the boy led him through the maze of the fortress. Eventually he realized the others had been tagging along the whole time. The echos of their boots in the hall giving them away. They reached a locked door, Cole disappeared leaving Varric to pick the lock. As soon as he opened it he was met with a scene of pure violence.
Two desks had been rendered to splinters and each one was coated in blood. Two bandits lay dead on the floor beaten beyond recognition. Red stained papers lay scattered across the room, fluttering with every little whisper of air. The metal bars of the cell door had been ripped off it’s welded place and skewered through the final bandit. A giant man still clutching a broken desk leg in his hand. Huddled in the corner of the cell were two people, an older woman, holding tight to a child, flinching away from him. He was about to say he wasn’t going to hurt them when a gruff old man’s voice tore his attention to the other side of the room.
“Who are you!? You’re no bandit!”
“No. We’re with— Hawke!” Varric rushed to the slumped barely conscious form behind the old man. Who moved to stand between him and his wife. “I—“
“Who are you?” The old man wielded a bloodied metal bar in his hands.
“Her husband now move!” Varric pushed past him, unfazed by the attempted threat. “Hawke… Marian… Marian can you hear me?”
“Vee? The fuck are you doing here?” Hawke wasn’t looking at him, not directly, her vision was glossed over, and unfocused. All of which concerned him. “Shouldn’t you be with the inquisitor? Closing the rift?”
“Yeah, but this was a pit stop on the way.” Varric could hardly tell where she was bleeding from, but he suspected the gash on the side of her head was playing a major part in her delirium. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Varric stood and wrapped her arms around his neck before picking her up and cradling her against him.
Ghelen moved aside and sent Blackwall ahead of the pair to open doors and lead him towards one of the rooms with beds. Dorian was kneeling beside the old woman and child talking quietly while he worked on melting the last remaining lock. “What… what happened?”
“Bandits.”
“I see that.” Ghelen chuckled, glancing around the room before turning back to the old man. “But I meant more about in here.”
•••
Blackwall opened the final door to a small room full of fur lined cots. Varric sat her down on one and gestured at the buckets stacked at the corner of the room. Hero understood the wordless request and left to fill a few.
“So…” Varric worked on helping her out of her armor, she didn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere besides her head. But he wanted to to be sure. “What happened to staying out of trouble?”
“I’ll have you know Messere, I was for once minding my business. I was hunting a goat when I was ambushed.”
“Loosing your touch?” He teased. Although worried about her slurred words he was happy to hear her in relatively good spirits.
“In all this sodding rain, please. I doubt I’d hear a charging druffalo much less four bandits.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
Blackwall stumbled back in with two buckets of clean water. “Rain was filling the buckets about as quickly as the well pump did.”
“Thanks Hero. I’ll take it from here.” Varric closed the door behind the warden and turned back to find they still weren’t alone. “Kid. Where’d ya go?”
Cole was sat on the edge of the bed offering Hawke a salve for the cut on her head. “A healer in town had these. Told her the fort was cleared now. They can wait here until we close the rift.”
“Good thinking. Shiny said we’d have to wait a day or so for Nightingale to send her people.” Varric pulled a chair up in front of Hawke and took the vial from Cole. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, her brow furrowed like she was disagreeing with something. “Hey, you alright there? Took a pretty bad hit to the head, keep thinking that hard and we’ll start seeing smoke come out your ears.”
Cole watched Varric rip up fabric to clean the cut on her face. “Can smoke really come out your ears?”
“No, Kid. It’s just a saying.”
“Oh.”
“What is it Hawke?” Varric tried his best to keep the conversation going, something for her to focus on.
“Beth. She and Alistair are still in that cave. We should go get them at least. Bring them here.”
“We will. Just wait a sec to get your strength back. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” Varric dabbed the sticky salve onto the cut to keep it from getting infected. Honestly, she could use some sleep, she looked absolutely exhausted. The bags under her eyes weren’t pronounced by any means but he could see the beginning traces of them. “Sleep. Just for a couple hours. Then we’ll go get Sunshine and friends.”
Right as she went to protest the door opened. Shiny let in the family from the holding cell and apologetically approached them as the others began to get comfortable in the remaining cots. “Sorry mate. This here’s the only decent bedding in the place.” He patted the dwarf on the shoulder before heading back out into the rain.
•••
Hours later, Ghelen stared up in satisfaction at the newly reenforced doors at the Keep’s entrance. With a lot of help from Dorian and strength from Blackwall the proud wooden doors were set into place with a heavy thud. Townsfolk we’re trickling in a few at a time. Taking refuge behind the giant stone walls they all breathed a sigh of relief the moment they stepped into the bailey.
He directed them to an enclosed area where tents were being pitched before heading back to check on the others. Varric had barely left Hawke’s side since she succumbed to her exhaustion. Which was worrying to say the least. It didn’t make sense for her to be so tired after a fight, injured or not. Cole’s cryptic comments weren’t much help though he seemed to insist she would be fine.
“She protects and keeps safe but a part of her isn’t her when she does. It makes her tired on the inside. Bound and bonded. Tethered but tended. She will be fine.”
“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once and I still don’t get it.” Varric sighed and sat back in his chair.
“Persevere, protect, prevail, or all was pointless.” Cole took his usual spot at the foot of her bed, hardly jostling the cot or sheets, and hugged his knees to his chest. “She will sleep for the rest of the day, will we go close the rift while we wait? The song is getting louder, I can hear it now.”
“It’s getting bigger?” Ghelen leaned on the doorway, having stayed silent up till now.
Cole nodded slowly. “The water weighs it down.”
“Alright, let me get a few hours sleep at least and then we’ll head out. Varric, you don’t have to come if you would rather stay here.”
“I said I’d go close it with you Shiny. Besides we still have to drain the lake.” Varric shrugged. It went against what he wanted to do, he did want to stay. But going was the right thing to do. Something he’d always had trouble doing, even if his actions spoke otherwise. There were times to be selfish. This shouldn’t be one of them. Still he would rather someone was around should Hawke wake while they were out.
“I will.” Cole turned to the dwarf. “I’ll stay. There are people here that need help to. I won’t be far.”
“Alright kid. If that rift is getting as big as you say it is, I’d rather you stay away from it too.” Varric breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Knowing someone would stay near by was enough to calm his nerves.
“Well thats settled, you best get a kip in too mate.”
“That accent—“ Varric hadn’t meant to bring it up, but he’d already said this much. “I take it you hung around Wycome more than just passing by?”
“Quite the ear you have. Yeah, I did spend more time in the City State than other clan members, more than they’d have liked anyway. I was the only one confident enough to arrange for the bigger trades that weren’t just the one offs.” Ghelen flashed a quick smile before turning back to the door. “I’ll come fetch ya in a few hours. Try and sleep Varric.”
Varric waved a salute as genuine as it was a mocking gesture. “At your order, Inquisitorialness.”