All That Remains is the saddest quest in the game, made me cry so much ;_; Even though I was looking at spoilers to see how to deal with various NPCs, I somehow managed not to spoil myself about the major character death, so it was incredibly effective.

Needed to call the Arishok out on his BS, he makes no sense. And yes, I didn’t have enough approval with Isabela for her to stay. For every sarcastic line she enjoyed, I’d do something nice that would annoy her.

Part 2

 

All That Remains

Reid came out of his room, where he’d been working on some history research, to hear Uncle Gamlen shouting. “No, Lee-an-drah! Where is she?”

“Enchantment?” Sandal said.

Reid frowned as he descended the stairs. “Shouting won’t make him understand you better, you know. What’s up?”

“Your mother never showed up for our weekly get-together,” Gamlen said. “She never misses it. What’s happened to her?”

“No idea,” Reid said. “I’m sure she’s all right. Hey, Bodahn! Do you know what Mother’s up to today?”

“I’m not sure, but perhaps she’s with her suitor!” Bodahn said.

“Suitor? She never said anything about a suitor,” Gamlen said.

“Probably afraid you’d scare him off,” Reid said saucily. “She mentioned she had something going on a while ago, but ‘nothing she was prepared to reveal yet’ so she wouldn’t tell me anything else. How do you know, Bodahn?”

“Well, a bouquet of white lilies arrived for her this morning.”

Reid flinched and swallowed, a block of ice dropping into his gut. “White lilies? You’re sure?”

“She took them with her, but quite sure, serah!”

“Fuck,” Reid hissed. “Uncle, we’ve got to find her.” He jogged out to the entryway in search of his black robe.

“Whoa, whoa, now what’s got you all riled up?” Gamlen interjected.

“There’s a killer in Kirkwall… who sends his victims white lilies before he… kidnaps them,” Reid said, struggling into his robe. “I’ve been helping the Templars track him down, but we didn’t have any… fuck!” He snapped his fingers. “Orana! I want you to go to the Keep. Find Guard Captain Aveline and tell her my mother’s been kidnapped. Bodahn, go to the Hanged Man and get Varric and Isabela. And Merrill, if she’s with them. Hurry!” Both his servants bowed and rushed off.

“No, that’s… that’s not possible,” Gamlen said. “Maybe… maybe Leandra took another path to my house. I could’ve just missed her. I’m going back to Lowtown.”

“Fine. If I don’t turn up anything, I’ll find you there.” Reid tore open the door.

It was going to be next to impossible to find her in the rush of the day. One well-dressed older woman would be no stand-out among all the others. He was beginning to feel light-headed; he wasn’t even running, but his breath was just out of control, and so was his heart. How could he have been so stupid!?

 

Fenris was lurking on a roof overlooking the Viscount’s Way when he caught sight of a small… blonde… elf girl, trotting along with a determined, anxious look on her face. Wasn’t that Reid’s rescued servant? She was clearly on a mission.

Maybe it wasn’t anything important, but Fenris wanted to know. He dropped down softly and moved to intercept the girl. “Orana.”

She gave a little squeak, then recognized him. “Ah! It’s… it’s you!”

“Me indeed,” he said dryly. “What’s got you in a rush?”

“Master Reid’s mother has gone missing, and I’m to get Guard Captain Aveline right away!”

“Fuck,” Fenris said. He could put two and two together. “You do that. I’ll go help Reid. Thanks for telling me.”

They hadn’t spoken since their… ‘break-up’. It didn’t matter. Reid needed him now. He found him half-way down the steps to Lowtown, with Varric and Merrill beside him; the redhead’s red hair was scuffed half to death, as if he’d run his hands through it fifty times, and he was pale and out of breath.

“Breathe, Reid, breathe,” Merrill was telling him. “You have to breathe. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.”

“I just… Stupid,” Reid gasped, trying and failing to follow Merrill’s counting.

“C’mon, get a hold of yourself,” Varric said. “We’ll find her. She’s not stupid – she’s your mother, after all. Oh, look who it is!” He’d seen Fenris approaching.

Reid straightened up, meeting Fenris’s eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him so desperate and afraid, not even in the abandoned thaig when his brother was dying, not even when he was about to get murdered by a street thug. Though those were close seconds.

“I’m with you,” Fenris said simply. “What is our plan?”

“I want to find Gascard DuPuis,” Reid said. “He might have learned something and just didn’t bother to tell me. I know he’s a blood mage, but-”

Fenris reached out to stop him babbling. “Your mother’s life is in danger. If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.” He had suspicions that Reid stooped to blood magic himself when things got really difficult… every mage did, and though Reid was… different, he wasn’t a complete exception, so he didn’t think Reid would be terribly bothered on his own account, but just this once… Fenris would swallow his pride.

Aveline came barrelling up. “Reid! Your servant found me. What’s happened?” Isabella came running from the other direction, and for once her expression was serious.

“My mother received white lilies this morning, and now she’s disappeared,” Reid said. “That’s literally all I know. No one’s seen her in hours – the guards in the market haven’t seen her since the morning.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I’m going to see that blood mage, see if he can find where she’s been taken.”

“Then what are we standing around for?” Isabela said. “Move it, man!”

It took some time to search Darktown for DuPuis, who informed them that the woman Alessa – whom they’d rescued from DuPuis previously – had also disappeared the day before. He’d apparently been about to send word to them, and had not been expecting the kidnapper to strike again so quickly. They picked up Anders on the way and headed off. It was already growing dark and Reid got more feverish by the moment.

The trail of blood led them to the same foundry that they’d discovered the remains of other murdered women, years ago. “I should have known,” Reid growled, tearing through the place, heedless of traps. “Blood on the floor…”

“Over here!” Varric said. “A trap door. He didn’t even bother to hide it.”

“Come on,” Reid said to them unnecessarily, jumping in as Varric held it open for him.

Fenris couldn’t imagine what it was like for him. Could not imagine the pain and anxiety he was going through. The closest he could imagine for himself was if Reid were kidnapped, but this… this was something else. To see him so deadly serious, not the ghost of a quip on his lips, his eyes full of hollow rage and sick worry… It tore at Fenris’s heart more than his own worry about Leandra. He liked her; she was kind to him as ‘one of Reid’s friends’, though the way she smiled at him sometimes made him wonder if she knew more than she let on about his feelings (and that she approved?). But he didn’t really know her.

But he was going to stand by Reid’s side all the way through this mess, no matter what they found.

 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” said the mage pleasantly as Reid approached him with thunder in his eyes. “Leandra was so sure you’d come for her.”

Past tense. Reid hadn’t thought he could feel any more sick, but apparently he was wrong. “She’s always known me best.” Better even than Father, or Bethany.

“Yes, and she spoke so fondly of you. What a lovely, gentle woman.”

“You have one chance to tell me where she is,” Reid growled. “And if she’s been harmed in any way, you’re not getting out alive.”

“Quentin!” interrupted Gascard, and Reid whirled on him with a dark look of anger.

“Gascard!” said the mage. “So you’ve reached me after all these years. I figured you gave up.”

“You knew him?” Reid hissed. “You’ve known all this time, and never told me!?”

“I had… other things on my mind,” said Gascard, with a look that didn’t make Reid trust him any more than previously. “You promised you’d teach me, Quentin! You’re going to deliver on that promise!”

“I promised to teach you,” said Quentin slowly. “I didn’t promise to teach you everything.”

“Well, you’re both dead now,” Reid said. “And I’m going to keep harping on about it until I get a fucking answer: where is my mother!?”

“We can still kill Quentin together!” Gascard exclaimed, backing away from Reid quickly. “Once he’s dead, you’ll have your mother back, and I’ll have his research and writings.”

“I’m sorry, Gascard,” Quentin said. “When my wife died, I lost all hope. I wasn’t able to be the mentor you deserved. But now my work is finished, and I can teach you as I always meant to. Come back to me, Gascard.”

“You’ll let me be part of this? You’ll teach me the secrets of necromancy?” Gascard asked, hopefully. Reid was getting really fucking tired of Orlesian whining.

“You flip-flop more than your limp dick,” Reid growled, raising his hand to cast Stonefist on Gascard… only for Varric to beat him to the punch with an arrow through the throat.

“What? You were going to do that, right?”

“You will never understand my purpose,” Quentin said. “Your mother was chosen because she was special, and now she is part of something… greater.”

“Spare me the demented rambling,” Reid growled. “Where is she?”

Quentin smiled with a crazed gleam. “She’s here. She’s waiting for you.” He glanced back at a chair behind him, and Reid saw a figure with a bridal veil sitting in it. “I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived. Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?” He turned and walked over to the figure, and reached out to caress its face. “Love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers… And at last, her face… oh, this beautiful face.”

Reid had seen the portrait in the other room. The subject had only looked like Leandra… not identical. This man was truly nuts.

Quentin gestured to the figure, and it rose unsteadily. “I’ve searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on this earth will part us.”

It was his mother. Her head, at least, sewn on to someone else’s neck. She staggered forward a pace or two, her jaw slack, her head lolling to one side.

 

Several things happened then. Quentin raised his arms, and skeletons, shades, and a demon began to claw their way out of the ground as he placed a barrier around himself and his ‘beloved’.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Reid screamed, and Fenris flinched to hear the agony in that scream. “You’ll suffer!” Purple electrical sparks swirled around him with a sharp crackle, snapping from his eyes, and he didn’t even bother with his staff, going straight for his knife – oh, great, it was blood magic time already. If Reid became an abomination from this, he was leaving Kirkwall and never coming back. There’s always some excuse…

Or… no, Reid wasn’t even doing spells, he was just going to run in and try to beat Quentin to death with his bare hands. And after seeing what he saw, Fenris didn’t blame him.

But Reid was going to charge right into extreme physical danger… Fenris reached out, grabbed his hood, and yanked him back, placing himself in the way just in time to block a skeleton’s rusted sword with his greatsword. He caught a glimpse of Anders flickering on and off again with blue light, as if he was having trouble controlling the spirit inside him. Just fucking great. He was stuck between all these mages, and they were all fucking insane, even the one he cared about.

Reid let out another scream, wordless, tormented, and Fenris flinched again. He’d made sounds like that during the ritual that cursed him with his markings. He’d never wanted to hear Reid feel that. Lightning crashed down all around them, merciless, raging. Fenris fought on. He’d protect him here if it was the last thing he did.

 

Quentin seemed to be running out of energy, summoning a line of shades to keep them away, maybe even trying to teleport across the room to escape. Reid tore past them, blood running down his left glove from a huge horizontal slash he’d self-inflicted in his wrist, reaching out his right hand to Quentin. Another incoherent scream from Reid, and Quentin appeared frozen, reaching out futilely to stave him off, but Reid marched on him inexorably, his fingers clutching at the air. An aura of lightning sparks still surrounded him, and it channelled through his fingers into Quentin’s body.

He reached him and seized Quentin’s robe by the front, and now he was sending lightning surging directly through Quentin’s body, more and more, until it was incandescent. The necromancer had long stopped screaming, but Reid didn’t stop until he couldn’t physically hold on anymore for weariness and dropped the body, staggering back with a pale, sweating face, all the rage burned out of it. Quentin had partly exploded and now there was blood on his face-

There was a sound from behind him, and Reid turned just in time to catch his mother falling into his arms. They slumped together to the ground, Reid on his knees, cradling her in his arms. With the necromancer gone, his spell was fading, and though the parts of the body construct were sewed together – not very well, how was this better than using an intact body?? – they were just that: separate parts that did not belong together. “Mother-!”

“I knew you would come,” she rasped, but it was her voice, even if the eyes were the wrong colour and also sightless.

“You know me,” he said, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from shaking and failing miserably. “I always save the day.”

“Shh,” she soothed him. Still a mother, even at the end. “Don’t fret, darling. That man would have kept me trapped down here, a mindless pet. Now I am free.”

You were free until I fucked up, Reid thought.

“I get to see Bethany again, and your father. But you’ll be here alone…”

“Not alone,” Fenris said softly, and Reid didn’t know whether his heart was breaking more or less to hear that.

“Thank you,” his mother said to Fenris. “Take care of him. He needs you.”

“I should have watched over you more carefully, I should have…” Tears were gathering in his eyes, and he broke off, unable to speak or even to see. “I should have warned you.” He hadn’t wanted to tell her. It was an upsetting tale. Now he regretted it intensely.

“My little boy has become so strong,” she whispered, and that set the floodgates off. “I love you. You’ve always made me so proud.”

He held her more tightly as she sagged away, giving up her spirit, rocking a little in his grief. The others were quiet.

He felt Fenris’s hand on his shoulder. “You’re wounded. Let Anders look at you.” The elf’s deep voice was more gentle than Reid had ever heard it before.

He gulped back a fresh flood of tears. Fenris was right; his left arm was still pouring blood, and if he didn’t get healed soon, he was going to pass out. But he didn’t want to let go… He held out his arm, and Anders knelt beside him and touched him with a healing spell.

“I’ll send word to that Templar,” Aveline was saying in the background. “And write a report for the Viscount. Come on, everyone. We should leave him be.”

It was a long time before he raised his head again. It was quiet in the evil lair. Nice and quiet. He could have died there and been content…

He had to take her body home. Alone, if everyone had gone…

Not everyone had gone. Fenris was leaning against the wall by the stairs, arms folded, waiting patiently. As Reid began to struggle to his feet, trying to lift the body, Fenris came over to him and helped him lift. Well, did most of the work, but Reid wasn’t letting go completely, not yet.

“There are guardsmen upstairs,” Fenris said to him softly. “They’ve recovered… Alessa’s body. They’ll take care of everything.” Reid swallowed and couldn’t speak.

And indeed, Guardsman Donnic was there, with a sympathetic look, and seven or eight other guards were there too; there was already a stretcher with a sheet over it, probably Alessa, and there was a stretcher waiting for his mother as well. And two more, just in case, apparently.

Which made sense… if the necromancer had only wanted his mother’s head, where was the rest of her?

Reid pulled his black hood over his head and refused to interact with anything after that.

 

Fenris walked him slowly home in the dark. The moment his front door opened, he saw Uncle Gamlen coming from the living room, and Fenris faded into the street. “She never showed up. Did you find her?”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Reid whispered. “She’s gone.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Gamlen said. “She can’t be.”

“I was too late,” he said, walking past, not even taking off his robe, going to lean on the mantle and stare into the fire.

“So you’re to blame!” Gamlen erupted, but there was more grief than anger in his outburst. “If you’d been quicker, or stronger, you could’ve… she could be…” He broke off with sobs. “Why her? Why Leandra?”

He should have been smarter, then he wouldn’t have had to be quick or strong, because he wasn’t quick or strong. “She’s gone. Will knowing why ease the pain?”

Gamlen looked at him for a minute; Leandra’s brother, and Leandra’s son, both aching with heartbreak. “No, it won’t. It will always seem senseless, won’t it?” He growled. “Where’s the one who did this to her? Did you find the person who killed Leandra?”

“I killed him,” Reid said. “I tore him apart and made him scream.”

“It won’t bring Leandra back, but I’ll take comfort in knowing that,” his uncle said. “Carver needs to be told. I’ll send a message to the Grey Wardens and hope it reaches him.”

“Yes,” Reid said. Maker, he hadn’t even thought about Carver. Carver who would certainly blame him – and blame himself for not being there.

“Take care, my boy,” Gamlen said, probably the first really affectionate thing he’d said to Reid since the Hawkes had arrived in Kirkwall, and walked out, leaving Reid to stare into the fire.

He’d taken off his robe, leaving it lying on the floor, his gloves, kicking off his boots, stumbling wearily to his bedroom, so he could stare into the fire there instead. He sank heavily onto the bed and stared dully, tears unshed hanging in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say, but I am here,” said a gravelly voice, and he glanced up to see Fenris’s slender feet nearby.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it,” he said.

“I could say no, but would that help?” Fenris said, coming right up to him. “…You are looking for forgiveness, but I’m not the one who can give it to you.”

“Perceptive,” Reid said quietly. “Then… then hold me.”

Fenris didn’t move for a moment, then began taking off his armour and laying it on the chair. When he was done, he moved forward, between Reid’s knees, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him forward to lean into his chest.

Reid clung to him, silently at first, but as Fenris stroked his shoulders and his hair, he began to weep again. That gentle touch, even though it was a little hesitant, was completely undoing him. Those strong, slender fingers, rubbing over the bones of his shoulder-blades, threading through his smooth red hair… He wept and wept, until finally this initial storm passed and he had no tears left for now, exhausted from everything of the day.

Then Fenris was tilting up his head carefully, leaning in to kiss him. Leaning him back, until he was lying on the bed with Fenris near-crawling over him. He pulled away and Fenris immediately pulled back, probably afraid he’d done something wrong.

“I… Not tonight,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t.”

Fenris paused. “I wish I could do more for you, but this is all I know how to do.”

“Just stay with me,” Reid said, and reached up to pull Fenris in enough that he could hide his face in his chest again. “I don’t… alone…”

Fenris understood his incoherent mumbling, fortunately, and climbed into bed with him, gathering him in, holding him close and safe. Reid held onto him like a lifeline, pulling desperate comfort from his warmth and aliveness, from the strong steady heartbeat under his ear.

“When Father died,” Reid said thickly, “it was of sickness. Quick, but not quick enough. It was… to see him, and remember how active and strong and smart he was – and smart-mouthed, like me and Carver – and seeing him wasting away…” He shuddered with his whole body. “One reason I was so desperate when Carver caught the darkspawn sickness in the Deep Roads. It reminded me of that. It wasn’t that, of course. Just… sickness. Coughing. Eventually blood. And eventually he didn’t wake up one day, and that was probably for the best. Still was the first death I’d known personally, and it devastated me.”

“I can’t imagine,” Fenris said. “You looked up to him a lot, didn’t you?”

“He taught me everything I know. How to wield magic… how to ensure magic didn’t wield me… ‘Magic should serve what is best in me’, he said, and I think about that often. I was about twenty when he died… went for a lot of long walks and thought about it. Suddenly without him there, it was a lot more important. Because he wouldn’t be reminding me in person anymore.”

“That’s why you try so hard to help everyone,” Fenris said, stroking his hair.

“Yeah… But Bethany tried even harder. She was so innocent and caring… not a sarcastic asshole like me.”

“And you lost her too.”

“When she died, I didn’t have the luxury of mourning like with Father. The Blight was on our heels, Mother was exhausted, Carver was overwhelmed… I had to keep them going until we got on the ship for Kirkwall. And even then…”

“Even then?”

“Even then, I couldn’t grieve in front of them. I don’t like showing it. But the refugees weren’t allowed on deck, so I just found a corner away from the family and tried not to cry openly.” He gulped. “At least she died quickly… barely had time to scream.”

He felt Fenris shudder against him, just a little. “You said it was an ogre?”

“An ogre from the Blight,” Reid said. “She was casting spells at it, from way back as she should, but it charged, knocking Carver out of the way… It was so fast. And she didn’t have time to dodge before it picked her up and just…” He mimed it.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said.

“Stove her head in instantly. There was so much blood…” Fenris held him tighter. “Our family was so large, and now it is so small…”

“I may not be family, or even know properly what family means, but I’m here for you,” Fenris said.

“Thank you. I-I know these things must seem inconsequential to you when you’ve endured far worse…”

“My experiences do not make your pain any less real, Reid.” After a pause. “Isabela was right.”

“About what?”

“She found me, while I was… avoiding you. Told me to get over myself and talk to you. That we had more in common than I thought.”

“Such as…?”

“I can’t bear knowing that I can remember, and not being able to,” Fenris said. “But you remember too much. You do not, cannot know my experience… and I can’t know yours… but that doesn’t mean you… that we can’t connect. We both mourn what we’ve lost. Only then, it was harder to see in you.”

“I don’t like to show it,” Reid said. “So congratulations, you’ve seen it.”

“I am honoured.”

 

For all Reid’s restless grief, he fell asleep quickly. He must have been exhausted, after the stress and shocks of the day. He was frowning even in sleep, and Fenris resisted the urge to touch his narrow red brows and smooth them out. It would have just woken him again, and Reid needed to rest more than anything else. His eyes were so red and raw…

And now Fenris had been drawn back in. He’d wanted to stay away, let Reid find someone better – less traumatized – someone he could actually sleep with without triggering pain and angst and confusing emotional issues. But he couldn’t just let him go through this alone, even if he didn’t directly comprehend just how much pain Reid was in… and now he was caught again. For some reason this aching soul gripped him just as much as the cocksure sarcastic dick that Reid normally was. And knowing both sides…

 

He woke early and felt breathing from his left, and looked over to see Fenris. He… hadn’t actually ever seen him asleep before. He looked serious, but relaxed, more relaxed than Reid had seen him awake. Did he feel safe here, in Reid’s bed, in Reid’s arms? Funny, since Reid felt safe in his arms…

He didn’t deserve to feel safe, to be safe. His mother was dead because he’d been stupid.

He choked back leftover phlegm and Fenris stirred and opened his big green eyes. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Reid croaked out, and then they just looked at each other for a minute.

“Well, you finally got me to stay the night,” Fenris said, and then immediately backpedalled. “That was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

“No, I was thinking it too,” Reid said. “Inappropriate, but I’m glad we were on the same page for it.”

Fenris was quiet, reaching out to smooth his hair. “You look like shit.”

“I am shit.”

“No, you’re not.”

Reid swallowed and looked at the bed canopy. “I beg to differ.”

“Says the rich man to the ex-slave.”

“Slavery doesn’t make you shit,” Reid said. “And I am willing to bet my estate that you never got your mother kill-”

Fenris lunged for him, stopping up his mouth with his own. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, and kissed him harder.

It was morning and Reid’s resistances were even lower than the previous night, so he took it, took it and clung to it, tears coming back into his eyes. To know Fenris still felt this way… But it wasn’t even that, it was just the feeling of being close to someone, someone who cared about him in this moment when he felt awful and grieving and lonely.

They were a (still-clothed) tangle of limbs and sheets by the time the frenzied snogging wound down. “I’m here,” Fenris said softly, his breath warm on Reid’s face. “As long as you need me.”

Reid sighed. “Maker, I don’t want to think about today.”

“Then don’t,” Fenris urged him, but Reid slowly sat up. His brain was clicking into gear like the machinery in the foundries waking up for the day.

“I have to. I have responsibilities. She has to be buried. Uncle’s writing to Carver but I should too.” He peeled off the blankets, pulling away from Fenris’s lean arms, rolled out of bed and walked out to the balcony, stripping off his shirt – time for a clean one. “Bodahn! Order me some mourning clothes, if you haven’t already.” He barely heard Bodahn’s response before turning back to his room, heading for his writing desk.

Fenris was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. Reid couldn’t look at him. “Is this… one way you deal with it, by throwing yourself into work?”

“I guess,” Reid said, sitting down and pulling a blank parchment towards him. And staring at it. “Fuck, I don’t know how to arrange a funeral.”

“Can I help?” Fenris asked, padding towards him to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not with this,” Reid said. “You’d better go. You’ve done all you can.”

Fenris was still and silent, and Reid felt the coldness of his dismissal. “I’m sorry, I don’t…” He sighed. “You… I… Thank you for staying with me. I needed you…”

“And now you don’t,” Fenris said.

“I need to be alone,” Reid said. “That’s different.”

“You didn’t want to be alone.”

“And now I do.” He still couldn’t look Fenris in the face. “I don’t have the capacity to explain it right now. Just… please. I’ll… I’ll find you.”

“I’ll…” Fenris trailed off, and after a moment, touched Reid’s shoulder again, then silently went to gather and put on his armour, and left.

Reid put his head down on his arms. He didn’t cry. He just wanted to give up.

 

By the time the funeral happened, a week later, Fenris still hadn’t seen Reid again. It was so strange, the way he had almost physically felt Reid’s barriers dropping into place against him, against everything and everyone, shutting out the world and wrapping him in a little cocoon of private sorrow. After becoming accustomed to his normal openness, it was an abrupt change. And not that Reid was terribly open with just anyone, but he’d been open with Fenris, and now he wasn’t.

It hurt. A lot.

He caught Bodahn in the market one day, and asked: “How is he?” Bodahn’s sigh and shake of his head told him all he needed to know.

He shouldn’t have run away after the time they’d had sex. He should have been there all along. Maybe then Reid would be accepting him in. Still… how much worse would it have been if he hadn’t heard about the crisis, if he’d stayed away wallowing in his own pain?

He was at the funeral; he’d never been to a funeral in Kirkwall before, or any funeral ever for that matter; it seemed to be a procession to a graveyard outside of the city. There was an Amell family tomb there, and that was where Leandra would be interred, with her parents. Reid was at the front of the procession, with Gamlen, both wearing a formal black with green garlands of willow branches. The black dye was the good stuff, expensive stuff. Reid must have bought Gamlen’s for him. Commoner funerals didn’t have black.

Fenris kept pace with the procession off the road. He wanted to get closer, but Reid just looked so unapproachable right now. He could see their other friends further back. They should have been up around him, surrounding him with support, not these other upper-class people that Reid barely knew… Aveline was the only one close, and that was in her capacity as Guard Captain.

When they came to the graveyard and everyone was gathered around the tomb, a Chantry sister began to read the funeral scriptures as the casket was placed in front of the tomb. Fenris slipped through the crowd. He didn’t care what they thought of him, he just wanted to get closer to Reid. He came up behind him and took his hand. Reid pulled away instinctively, turned and saw it was him, and moved away through the crowd, putting distance and nobles between them. Fenris stood in rejected pain, watching him go, and then Varric came up behind him, taking his arm and pulling him away.

“I don’t understand,” he said to him when they were a safe distance away.

“It’s not you,” the dwarf said. “It’s hard to remember sometimes, among us, but he’s a very private person. I don’t think he’s going to let anyone in for a while, not any of us.”

“But we’re his friends. We’ve known him three years, at least.” And Reid didn’t have any other older friends who could support him in this moment.

“Just be patient,” Varric said. “He’ll come to us when he’s ready.”

He didn’t want to be patient. That short glimpse of Reid had shown him silver strands in his red hair.

 

Reid barely left his house over the next two months. Fenris found himself spending more time with the others, desperate for interaction while he waited impatiently – well, he stayed away from Anders, he didn’t like Anders further than he could kick him; but he helped them with little things, small quests. They still made a good team, and he even enjoyed getting to fight beside them again. But without Reid, the one who had brought them together, the life of their circle, everything was different, and he didn’t like it. He wanted to go and bother him, but Isabela wouldn’t let him.

“But you helped him bother me.”

“Sure.” She shrugged unapologetically. “This is different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

A dissatisfying answer, so he ignored it and went to break into Reid’s room the way Reid broke into his. Though he didn’t exactly break in; he found the window and sat outside tapping on it. For an hour.

When Reid first saw him, he frowned, closed the curtains, and left the room – Fenris could hear it. So he waited. Reid wasn’t going anywhere, not if he wanted to go to bed. As soon as he heard him come back in, he started tapping again.

“Stop that,” Reid said sharply from inside the room.

“Make me,” he said. Any interaction was better than none, even if Reid hated him now.

“Go away, Fenris. There’s nothing for you here.”

“You’re here, shut up.”

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this!” They both had to talk loudly to get through the glass.

“I already saw you at the start. You can’t shock me now.”

“I…” Reid trailed off. “You don’t want to be subjected to this. One dose of it is enough. Day after day… It’s enough to poison anyone.”

“Why don’t you let me make that decision for myself?”

“No.”

“Asshole.”

“I am an asshole,” Reid said, taking that with far more anger than he would normally. “So fuck off so it doesn’t affect you.”

“No.”

“Now who’s the asshole?”

“It’s still you.”

It was almost banter. He’d missed this.

An almost imperceptible sigh. “Go away, Fenris.”

“When will you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You will come back?”

A long pause. “Probably.”

He wanted something more concrete. But it was better than nothing. After a long wait to see if Reid said anything else – he didn’t – he silently slipped away.

 

About a month after that, Fenris walked into Varric’s suite at the Hanged Man and stopped short. There was a redhead at Varric’s table, playing cards with him.

Varric looked up and saw him. “Oh, come in. Look who’s back!”

“Hello,” Fenris said cautiously, taking his usual place and looking carefully at Reid. There were still silver threads in his hair, and dark circles under his eyes. But he was alert, and there was a glimmer of his old self in his eyes.

“Hey,” Reid said, casually, as if this were still normal. “How have you been?”

A rote, impersonal question. He still wasn’t all there. But he was present, and Fenris seized it. “I am well. It is good to see you out again.” An impersonal answer. He still didn’t know how to deal with this.

And that was ignoring the whole entire problem that was ‘them’, and he was glad of that, because he still didn’t know how to deal with that. To see Reid sitting there, as handsome as ever, to see even ghosts of smiles at Varric’s wisecracking… it was pleasure and pain. To remember his touch and know that it would never happen again. Reid didn’t seem to show any active dislike or aversion to him, but Fenris was expecting no special treatment from him anymore.

The best thing to do for the time being was to tuck all that mess away and just focus on the moment. To let both their unresolved feelings pass into the background, maybe pass away if he were lucky.

“Fuck,” Reid said, putting his cards down. “I fold. Varric, how many aces did you have up your sleeve?”

“I don’t keep ‘em up my sleeve, Hawke, it’s too easy for them to fall out from there. Deal you in, elf?”

“Sure. Is there anything to drink in here or are you actually playing sober?”

“Not on your life. Edwina! Another pitcher!”

 

Unresolution

Time passed; Reid recovered most of his spark, but neither of them brought up the incidents of their… brief, ill-fated relationship.

And yet Fenris still wore the headband on his arm.

And yet Reid still sought him out specifically and first whenever he had a job or mission or quest to do.

It was almost like old times; the new barrier between them was almost imperceptible. Fenris refused to allow himself to wallow further, and it seemed Reid was doing the same. And they got along well as friends, bantering, arguing, debating, or just talking. No more flirting. Friends was nice. Friends was good. And stable. Safe.

Still, he couldn’t help being jealous when someone else flirted with Reid. Not that Reid flirted back.

And he couldn’t stop the rush of affection when Reid defended him vehemently against anyone who would put him down for being an elf, or a slave, or a dangerous lunatic. The hurtful words didn’t bother him, usually, but he enjoyed watching Reid cut people down to size.

The others were skeptical, he could tell, even if none of them said anything. Was it possible to be together without being together? But the end result was, they were not together, and it was better that way.

 

Reid was finding Sebastian the most annoying uptight twat he’d ever encountered, and he’d encountered Anders. With all the conviction of a new convert, he went about praying to Andraste and the Maker over every tiny thing that happened, good or ill. Reid, being about one step away from being an atheist – he still believed in the Maker, but disagreed with the Chantry on just about everything – had to struggle not to get drawn into long-winded knock-down debates on how stupid the whole thing was.

And Sebastian didn’t know what he wanted to do in life. Sure, he had a big choice in front of him, but he seemed to change his mind every week, and Reid just did not care, even when Sebastian demanded advice from him. He didn’t like either the Chantry or the nobility. How should he know what to do? Reid just called him “Sebas” every chance he got, and laughed internally at Sebastian’s confusion. “If you’re going to deride me with a nickname, why not Bastian? That’s the normal shortening.”

The most rude part was where he offered Fenris a job back in Starkhaven. Reid tried not to show he was annoyed – it wasn’t like there was anything between them, though such an admission stung – but he was… jealous. It didn’t matter to him whether Fenris went away with Sebastian or not! Fenris was a free man and could do whatever he wanted without reference to Reid if he liked. Sebastian certainly didn’t have to check with Reid whether or not he could ask Fenris anything.

He couldn’t tell if Fenris knew he was annoyed or not. He hoped not.

But between the attempted conversion – that Fenris seemed to be considering… well, if it worked for him, it worked for him – and the invite, Reid was… highly disliking Choirboy. Oddly, Choirboy didn’t seem to dislike him. Which only annoyed him more. And led to a heated discussion involving moral goodness and its connection (or disconnection) from following the Chant. “Even if you pretend you do not do it for the Maker’s sake, it contributes to the Maker’s will, therefore you are a good follower of Andraste,” Sebas said with content conviction, and Reid huffed and dropped it, because how could you debate with someone so deluded?

 

Legacy

Reid’s life was inordinately full of battle and strife for someone who was supposed to just be another upperclass twit of Kirkwall, but assassins were really crossing a line. Now he, Varric, and Fenris were on the road to the middle of nowhere, in the mountains north of Kirkwall.

Fenris had been quiet at first, letting Reid and Varric carry the bulk of the conversation, but when there was a lull, he said: “Thank you for asking me to come along again, Reid.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Reid asked, in high spirits. It was nice to be out of the city for once. “More the merrier.”

Fenris hesitated. “I just… am pleased. To see you. That’s all.” Reid didn’t look, didn’t dare look, but wondered if he might see a blush spreading across his brown face.

Varric smirked. “Smooth.”

“Shut up, dwarf.”

“Nah. Anyway, Hawke, you know where we’re going?”

“How should I know? Do I look like the leader of this merry band of misfits?”

“Uh, yeah, you do,” Varric told him. “Five times out of ten, it’s your idea to go anywhere or do anything. This is no exception.”

Reid pouted. “Half the time, I’m helping out a friend, those aren’t my ideas.”

“And the other half of the time, you’ve gotten a new hare-brained scheme to help people you don’t even know. You can’t fool me, Hawke!”

“Makerdammit, Varric…”

They met Carver on the road to the Carta headquarters, and after exchanging what passed for pleasantries between the Hawke brothers, filling each other in on the assassin situation, they continued on their path.

“It’s good to see you again, Varric,” Carver said, taking the lead since he had the heaviest armour. “Still keeping my brother in line?” He’d filled out since joining the Wardens. He was taller, squarer, more confident, Reid could see it. It looked good on him. Not that he’d tell him that.

“In a manner of speaking,” Varric said with a chuckle. “More like bailing him out of trouble that I willingly follow him into.”

“And… Fenris?” Carver said. “What brings you on this trip?”

“Reid asked,” Fenris said succinctly.

“You didn’t ask the others?” Carver said. “They’re still around, aren’t they?”

Reid ticked off on his fingers. “Aveline’s too busy to come on an extended trip, Anders is just busy, and I couldn’t find Bela. Merrill, I should have asked too, that’s true.” Charging after would-be assassins with just Fenris and Varric had seemed a bit foolhardy… Carver would help even the odds considerably.

“That’s too bad, I would have liked to see her again,” Carver said.

“It’s fine,” Fenris said. “She’s better off.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Varric snarked, and Reid laughed.

Carver gave Fenris an odd glance over his shoulder. “You don’t seem half as put out by being dragged along here as I thought you might, Fenris. What happened to ‘all mages are terrible’?”

“All mages are terrible, but Reid isn’t just a mage,” Fenris said, and despite everything, that warmed Reid’s heart.

“We’ve known each other for three and a half years, we’ve figured out how to get along,” Reid said, defensively… too defensively, and he could feel his face turning red, and he tried to stop it, and that went poorly.

“You are standing pretty close together for people who ought to hate each other…” Carver glanced again, caught sight of his face, stopped, looked them both up and down… and his gaze was drawn to Fenris’s wrist, where he was still wearing that damn headband… like a taunt to Reid’s heart, but they weren’t going to talk about it. “Wait, is that your…”

Carver might be dyslexic, but he was no fool, and he pointed dramatically at Reid suddenly. “Whore!”

“Oh, fuck off!” Reid yelled back with a red face and a massive eyeroll, as Varric dissolved into giggles and Fenris slowly retreated behind his gauntlets. “Whores work at the Rose! -And before you call me a slut, let me remind you that no one can keep up with Bela.”

“We’re not going to talk about it,” Fenris muttered. “We’re not talking about it.”

That pulled Carver’s fire. “Oh. All right. We won’t talk about it, sorry. I was just trying to annoy my brother again.” And he turned around and kept walking, and they followed him.

“Wouldn’t call you a slut, either,” Varric said. “You haven’t looked sideways in pretty much three years.”

“Stop talking about it,” Fenris said loudly.

Reid went on the offensive instead. “So does that mean you’re still single, Carv?”

“No! Well, at the moment, but… I’ve fucked, so fuck off.”

“Mmhmm,” Reid said, doing his best smug face.

“I hate you,” Carver said. “I hate how you always make me feel five years younger than I actually am. You’re such a bitch.”

“I absolutely am, and proud of it. Just let me know if I’m going to be an uncle, all right?”

The mood dropped suddenly. “Wardens are close to infertile,” Carver said. “Didn’t mention that in my letters, but it’s one of the side effects.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.” Anders hadn’t mentioned that… Anders had mentioned horrific screaming nightmares. Horrific screaming nightmares and infertility on top of that…

Carver shrugged, trying to put on a smug face of his own. “Hey, it doesn’t mean reduced virility, so really it just means I can do as I please in that regard.”

“Oh, so you’re the slut, then,” Reid retorted. “Pot calling the kettle, methinks.”

“Hey, I work hard and I play hard. You sit around in your stupid fancy house all day, sipping wine and spoiling Bo. Don’t lie, I know.”

Varric was writing everything down. “You really have this banter down to a science. This is fantastic. Might need some editing before it starts going in circles.”

“Must you?” Carver asked.

“Of course!” Varric said.

Of course, then all conversation stopped for a few minutes.

“So… what do you think of the weather, lately?” Reid asked when he felt things had gotten awkward enough.

It made Fenris smile, at least. “Reid.”

“Kirkwall’s been quite dry, recently.”

Carver huffed an impatient sigh. “Look, about Mother… I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

The most important topic, that really they should have spoken of first. But it was enough to know that the other was all right, first of all. “I’m so sorry,” Reid said. “I… I was stupid. I tried to make up for it, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Yes,” Carver said, “well…”

“I murdered her murderer, if that makes up for it. And now I’m going to prevent either of us from joining her too soon.”

“And Bethany, and Father,” Carver said sombrely.

“She told me she was happy to be going to see them,” Reid said, trying not to choke up.

“I should have been there,” Carver said. “I should have been there to help find her, to help kill him, to… to help.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Reid said quietly. “It’s not like the murderer sent around a schedule beforehand.”

“Anyway, maybe it’s best. A greatsword through the skull would have been too quick. Please tell me you did something to him.”

“Paralysis and lightning,” Reid said. “I… I used blood magic.”

“Oh no. No one saw you, of course?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll use it again. Unless you die and I have to avenge you. So don’t fucking die, do you hear?”

“Well if it means you’re going to use blood magic, I guess I have to fucking live forever now, don’t I?”

“As long as we’re in agreement,” Reid said.

“Which is rare enough to begin with,” Carver said. “Well.” He took a deep breath. “It’s done now. And at least she doesn’t have to suffer watching us get attacked.”

“By lunatics weirdly obsessed with our family name, you mean? What’s that up ahead?”

 

“How is it you get into these situations so often?” Fenris asked a few minutes later, after they’d managed to fight their way through a small army of Carta and into the strange ruined citadel.

“What do you mean?” Reid asked.

“Hmm. Attacked by dwarves, approached by strangers, stumbling upon ancient riddles… madness, wherever you go.”

Reid smirked at him. “It’s a gift.”

Fenris laughed, and Reid’s world lit up. “Well, I think you should return it.”

“That would be a feat,” Carver grumbled.

 

Reid didn’t really like the idea of releasing the demons, but releasing them to kill them… that worked just fine. Why hadn’t the Wardens killed them to begin with? Why had they made his father seal them instead?

At least fighting beside Fenris, Carver, and Varric – his three favourite people in the world – was great fun. He hadn’t fought beside Carver since the Deep Roads, and he’d missed his little brother.

His father’s voice was something he’d missed even more deeply, and something ached inside him to hear it again, even if it was just a memory in the stone, only a pair of blue points like eyes to visually accompany that resonant voice.

“I’ve bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We’ll be together.” Reid swallowed. He’d been that baby. The eyes turned and crossed the room to face the wall, perhaps trying for a moment of privacy from Warden ears. “I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one. May they never learn what I’ve done here.”

When the lyrium-blue stone-memory had faded away, Carver crossed his arms. “Father didn’t want a child with magic? He got that one wrong twice over. I guess the Warden’s looking pretty good right about now.”

Reid turned to glare at him, genuinely nettled. “And with that, the goodwill of our reunion vanishes.” How could he say that? To insult their father, and mages, and Bethany, who Carver had fraternally loved deeply, all in one go, Reid wasn’t letting that snarky comment slide.

Carver floundered for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Look, I didn’t mean… no, you’re right. I’ll just stop talking.”

“Praise be,” Reid said, relaxing. Time to fuck with him, to let him know it was all right again.

“Stop that,” Carver shot back. “I agreed.”

“Good.”

“You don’t always need the last word.”

Yes he did, he was the older brother, that was his privilege. They looked at each other for several seconds.

Holding each other’s gaze.

Waiting for the other to crack first.

“Good,” Reid said.

Carver threw his arms up in the air. “Can we just… I want to get this over with.”

Reid grinned at that. “I’ll be quiet if you’re quiet. Promise. Let’s go.”

Carver grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

 

Carver came home with him, acted unimpressed at the mansion – which he’d never seen before, though Reid had the idea that their mother had written about it to Carver – and he thought he could detect a little admiration in his brother’s looks, no matter his behaviour. He even offered to show him their mother’s room, which he had not touched, but Carver hedged and declined. Declined even to stay the night. Reid understood. Sort of.

After looking around and eating a meal together, they retreated to the living room to stand by the fire with wine. They reminisced about both their parents, still marvelling in everything their father had done to protect them. “Would Father really be a Hawke if he didn’t try to fix every problem in the world single-handedly?” Reid asked.

Carver rolled his eyes. “No. No, I guess he wouldn’t. Even now that I’m off on my own, or maybe especially now, I find myself feeling the same way. It’s annoying to think I’m turning into you.”

“You know, I don’t think we had it that bad,” Reid said, and couldn’t resist sarcastic teasing. “For a while. …A short while.”

Carver snorted. “I think I blinked and missed it.” He sighed and put down his empty wineglass. “So back to the way things are.”

“Seems that way,” Reid said quietly, regretting… something, he wasn’t sure what.

“Right,” Carver said, equally awkwardly. “Brother…” Reid waited, and Carver sighed. “Never mind. See you later.”

“See you,” Reid echoed.

He stood there a long time after Carver had left, staring into the fire. It had been a lot to learn, to find out what his father had done before he was even born. Sealing demons, letting his blood be used… He glanced over at the key staff, leaning against the wall. It wasn’t his father’s staff. Reid had inherited that, and used it still. But he did feel a connection with this thing, and it was powerful. Hard to disguise that it was a mage’s staff and not just a fancy walking stick or a slightly odd melee weapon, but… he was still keeping it.

And to see Carver again… it was good and not so good. He was all right; he was growing in confidence… and there was still an invisible wall between them. There always had been, but Reid had begrudged it ever since Carver’s near-collapse in the Deep Roads, and even more since their mother’s murder. He only had so much family left to lose.

He seemed to hear his mother’s voice, as if coming over his shoulder. “You know Malcolm wouldn’t want you two to fight. He sacrificed so we’d have a life free to choose, even if we didn’t always agree. His burden must have been very like yours.”

He closed his eyes. “I do what I can,” he murmured. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like enough.”

He heard the smile in her voice. “Your father tried to help people the same way – and with the same questionable wit. Tried to fix trouble he saw in others. The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It’s what makes you try so hard. You will always have that. We will always be family.”

There were tears running down his face. He’d heard his father’s voice for the first time in seven years through ghostly visions, lyrium-bound memories, and now he was hallucinating his mother’s voice. He was so fucking lonely.

Her voice was a promise. “It will be all right.”

 

Demands of the Qun

The city was under attack. The streets were filled with ruin and fire, civilians ran and screamed and died at the merciless blades of the Qunari. Reid and his group hurried through the streets, trying to catch up with the Arishok, but they weren’t going to make it in time. Though they managed to outfight every band of Qunari in their path, it all took time, and time was something they didn’t have. Every moment more people died.

It was all Isabela’s fault. How could she have been so selfish? Both in the past, when she stole this artifact that brought the wrath of the Qunari down upon her, and now, when she could see the destruction caused to those around her by her carelessness? How could she just run and not try to fix it?

Looking for her now was pointless. She could hide easily in the chaos. No, at the moment, there was no other option but to meet the Qunari’s violence with violence.

And that was when they met Carver, fighting through the streets with Stroud and a few other Wardens. “Carver!”

“I knew you’d be in the thick of this,” Carver answered, the moment they had a breathing space.

“Hello, brother. Fancy meeting you here.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” Reid said.

“We’re here on Warden business. And we can’t stick around. Any idea why they’re attacking?”

“Not specifically,” Reid said. “There have been a lot of little incidents, but this seems disproportionate a response.”

“Aye, this will lead to war with the Free Marches for certain,” Stroud said. “We will spread word to the other free cities. Perhaps they will bring aid.”

“You do that,” Reid said. “Though the way things are going, things will be resolved by morning… one way or another.”

“Just stay alive, dickhead,” Carver told him fiercely.

“You too, asshole,” Reid said.

“We have to go,” Carver said. “Take care of yourself, Reid.”

“Take care,” Reid said, and watched them leave.

Even in Hightown, there were Qunari, tearing through the market – not necessarily engaging in wanton destruction, but definitely herding and corralling civilians… and cutting down any who tried to fight back. Reid let his frustration and fury out as he led his friends against them, blasting away with lightning and entropy.

The enemy retreated from their group, and he took a moment to regather his energy, checking his mana. This battle was far from over and he was going to have to conserve it carefully… or risk dipping into his back-up lyrium. He almost never needed lyrium, had been warned about the addiction, but he always had a bottle just in case. And today was looking like a day when he’d finally need it. Aveline was looking anxious; he wondered if it was a general anxiety, or if it was for her boyfriend. Fenris just looked generally grim, maybe slightly more so than usual, but Varric looked pretty unflappable.

A sudden explosion knocked him down – fuck! He’d stopped paying attention for two seconds, and a blasted saarebas took him out. His head hit pavement and he groaned there for a moment before looking up to see the saarebas looming distantly, casting another spell-

A sword pierced the Qunari’s heart, and he collapsed to the pavement with a spray of blood. Standing behind where the Qunari had been was a blonde Templar-armoured woman with the coldest eyes he had ever seen.

“Fuck me with a rusty battleaxe,” he muttered to himself as Fenris helped him up, fully aware that she must have seen his staff and his electrical bolts. And to think he’d once bragged that he kept track of where every Templar in eyeshot was!

“I’m sure she’d be willing to do that later if you piss her off enough,” Varric said, also under his breath.

Reid slowly, warily straightened as she approached at a brisk march, trying to hide the fact that he was absolutely scared stiff. Fenris was standing closer to him than normal, and maybe a little bit in front, not that Knight-Commander Meredith was paying any attention to him; her eyes were fixed on Reid. Would she consider the Qunari a bigger threat than him at this point? Please say she would consider the Qunari a bigger threat than him.

“I am Knight-Commander Meredith,” said Meredith, sheathing her sword. “I know you.”

“Then I won’t introduce myself,” Reid snarked.

She was unimpressed. “The name ‘Reid Hawke’ has turned up in my reports many times. Too many.”

“I’m a busy man,” Reid said.

“It’s good that we found you, Knight-Commander,” Aveline broke in, maybe trying to turn attention away from him. “The Qunari are-“

“It’s obvious what they’re doing,” Meredith said, turning away and gazing towards the Viscount’s Keep. “The Qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them.”

“Gathering hostages?” Reid asked.

“They’re going to take everyone of import and put them in the same place,” Fenris said from beside him. “Those that agree to convert, live. Those that don’t…”

Reid’s hackles rose.

“Charming,” said Meredith. “You seem competent. You could be of use in this.”

Reid grimaced. “Always happy to help in a life-threatening crisis.”

She skewered him with her icy look. “Good. I’ll overlook your own use of magic… for the moment.”

Fuck. He was in all the shit. And after Aveline had risked her life to keep him from blowing his cover earlier… Time to start making plans to leave Kirkwall. And he’d been comfortable, too…

“Head to the Keep,” Meredith said, “and I will see if I can find more of my men. These creatures will pay for this outrage.”

 

With Orsino’s help, they managed to break in to the Keep, to find it littered with bodies both of the guard and of the invading Qunari. Aveline looked grim – but there was no time to see if Donnic were among the dead. Reid didn’t even break pace as he jogged up to the throne room.

Fenris went first, pushing open the double doors, and Reid took it all in – Viscount Dumar’s head splatted at the bottom of the dais stairs; the Arishok at the top of the stairs, not seated upon the throne but standing imposing as a granite cliff; a herd of frightened nobles and courtiers, surrounded by Qunari soldiers, at their feet a few dead nobles. Had they begun forced conversions already?

“But we have guests,” the Arishok said, looking past Fenris to him. He glared back defiantly, angrily. “Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you.”

“You know, I had nothing against you personally,” Reid said. “In another life I might be helping you, though I have no interest in the Qun.” Social change in favour of the underdog was always good. Half these nobles could be put down without anyone noticing. “But you attacked my city.”

“That is why, for all your might, you are no different from these bas. You do not see.”

“I see a man who’s ready to start a war on principle,” Reid said. Who the fuck started wars over books? Who camped out silently in a foreign nation for three years and then tried to conquer it because they didn’t like how things were being run? …Well actually he’d heard of that happening before. It was still a bad idea, in his opinion. And he had no jokes about the forced conversions. That was horrific no matter which direction it went in.

“And what would the Qunari be without principle? You, I suspect,” answered the Arishok. “Prove yourself, basra, or kneel with your brethren.” He turned away, and the nobles were forced to the sides of the room, to the galleries… clearing the floor to be a battleground. He expected Reid to fight.

Reid was certainly going to oblige. He glanced around, at the Qunari soldiers closing in on his group, at his friends, at the… witnesses. Well, if Meredith knew what he was, it didn’t hurt for the whole fucking city to know. He unslung his staff from his back, gave his wrist an experimental flick, sending up a little crackle of electrical sparks. The Qunari glanced at each other, and their captain nodded. Fenris charged.

It was rough. They were surrounded, which did not give Aveline much chance to shield them. Reid opened with Mind Blast, buying them one moment, and then surrounded them with a fence of lightning, through which the enemy would have to pass to get at them. He’d hold it up while Fenris guarded one side, Aveline the other, and Varric would take down as many as he could before they had to switch strategies.

Fenris was all cut up and Aveline had been punched in the face by the time their last challenger died to one of Varric’s bolts. The Arishok stared down at them – at him – with unmoving face. “You are basalit-an after all. Few in this city command such respect. So tell me, Hawke: you know I cannot withdraw. How would you resolve this conflict?”

“I know what you’re really after,” Reid said. “And I know who has it. Isabela stole the Tome of Koslun. We find her and you can leave Kirkwall.”

“And is this not one of your companions? One I suspect you aided.”

“She lied to me,” Reid said. “I do not condone the theft of culturally significant artifacts that people are willing to kill and die over. I will find her and get it back.”

“It is too late for that,” the Arishok said.

Reid was getting really tired of him saying that, and his eyes narrowed to amber slits. “Maybe if you had fucking told anyone what the problem was in the first place, you wouldn’t have this problem for fucking years, and we wouldn’t have this problem with you! Have you tried communicating lately? Did Dumar know you were looking for your book? Why did I have to find out what it was from the thief?”

The Arishok’s face tightened further. “And let ignorant greedy bas make an attempt to hold it for ransom? Perhaps to attempt to destroy it? We are not foolish.”

Reid laughed sarcastically. “Not foolish, you say! So instead, you just sat around on your ass and glowered menacingly at anyone who passes by. Very pro-active of you.”

“Your words are meaningless, for they are without understanding. You will answer for the crimes of those who serve you. Their offence is yours.” He gestured to his guards – all of them, enough that Reid was genuinely afraid for his group, enough that he would have been glad to see Templars coming in right about now.

He was about to snap out something about his friends never serving him, to get in one last snarky correction, but Fenris stepped up beside him with a determined face of his own. “Arishokost! Qun-anaam ebra-toh. You have granted this man basalit-an. By this admission, he now has the right to challenge you.”

The Arishok paused and looked more carefully at Fenris again. Had he forgotten how Fenris had stood at Reid’s side and advised him whenever they had dealings previously? “You know our ways.”

“I know that respect is hard won, but it also earns privilege,” Fenris said.

The Arishok looked back at Reid. “What say you, Hawke? Do you agree to a duel?”

“What are the rules?” Reid said warily. If magic was forbidden, then forget it.

“We fight to the death, you and I alone,” the Arishok said. “Kill me and the duty that binds me is ended. The others will return to Par Vollen.” Would have been nice to know before he set the city on fire.

“And if you kill me?” Reid asked.

“Then you are dead,” the Arishok said.

He shrugged. “Fair enough.” By his own beliefs, he wouldn’t care about anything after that point anyway. He turned away, drew his staff, then turned back and twirled it with a sardonic grin calculated to be more confident than he felt. “All right. Let’s put on a show.”

“Merevas! So shall it be!” the Arishok cried.

The two withdrew momentarily to their own sides of the room. The Arishok did not seem to need to prepare, but Reid… needed a moment. And if this was Qunari honour, he’d take it.

“I… am sorry,” Fenris said. He’d been injured, and he was more worried about Reid? …That tracked, actually, under the circumstances. “I did what I could to help. And now you are in greater danger than before.”

“Not necessarily,” Reid said. “At least I won’t have to watch my back, fighting against only one man. This will be much more straightforward. I appreciate you stepping in.” He gave Fenris a little smile. “Don’t worry. I may be completely fucked if he closes with me… but he’ll have to catch me first.”

“Be careful,” Fenris said. “I will be upset if you die.”

Reid reached out to touch his face, and Fenris’s eyes softened. An unpardonable liberty if he lived, and he was planning to live, but… “And let Carver be the last Hawke? He’d be insufferable.”

Fenris gave him the ghost of a smile, and then Reid turned to fight with another flourish of his staff.

 

Fenris watched him go, watched him walk away so tall and proud, saw the tension at the corner of his jaw that said he was afraid, saw the glint in his eye that said he was going to give it his all anyway.

Reid cracked his neck. “Is there a count-down, or…?”

“Go,” said the Arishok, and charged. But Reid was quicker, hitting him with a slowing hex and darting away, grinning. Like this was fun… or like he was at the end of his rope, his emotions just barely under control.

No, after only a minute, Reid was definitely beginning to enjoy himself, his stance more relaxed, his gestures more fluid, and genuine play in his eyes. Which was a bit weird in a duel to the death, and yet… Fenris understood. This was not fighting some wild beast, or a mob of thugs, as they so often did – this was pure skill against skill. Reid did not take his eyes off the Arishok for a single moment, throwing out hexes and lightning in equal measure, ducking behind the room’s support pillars, retreating carefully and steadily to remain out of harm’s reach… and he was doing staff tricks in spare moments that Fenris knew were unnecessary to cast his spells. The confidence was so gorgeous it made Fenris’s chest ache; it was enthralling everyone. Reid couldn’t die after a display like this.

He itched to stand beside him, to do his usual aggressive defence, to complement that lightning with the quick lyrium flicker of his gigantic blade… To make sure Reid would be safe, able to beat down the enemy from behind the bulwark of his body.

Reid flung out a Stonefist, and most eyes turned to follow it… Fenris did not, and caught Reid sneaking his back-up lyrium. Not good…

And worse followed, as the Arishok recovered from the Stonefist far more quickly than anyone had a right to, swinging his massive axe at Reid’s robed body-

The axe hit him at a blunt angle, only sending him flying, slamming into the floor and rolling with a grunt. He didn’t drop his staff, but the Arishok was coming quickly, and he would not miss again…

Reid pulled his head up and threw out his hand, hexing the Arishok yet again, and Fenris was pretty sure the Arishok was starting to get very frustrated. And possibly badly wounded, though with lightning it was hard to tell. Reid hadn’t hit him hard enough yet, it seemed.

Reid spun to his feet with a desperate gasp. He planted both feet firmly, spun his staff, and slammed it to the floor while raising his right hand to the heavens, and lightning crackled and flashed.

And the Arishok fell at his feet.

For a few moments, all was silence. Reid was panting, standing there looking so powerful and sexy… and like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Then Varric whooped, and the nobles timidly began to cheer. The Qunari, as far as he could read them, were stunned, but began to move swiftly, gathering their fallen leader’s axe and heading for the exit. The Kirkwallians let them, swarming towards Reid, heedless that he was a mage, reaching out to him, praising him as a saviour, as a hero.

But Reid looked over their heads towards Fenris, a strange, relieved smile on his lips, and Fenris felt his own lips curving in response.

 

Part 4