Heart and Home, ch 5

Across the grey, churning water The Gallows squatted, ancient stone foundations shaken by the battle raging within.  Dust and ash rained down in a fine grit, sticking to Hawke in the damp air of the docks.  Fenris didn't seem to notice the filth or even the menacing ocean.  Instead he stood staring out across the bay at their destination, jaw clenching at each shudder of magic.  She laid a hand on his shoulder to reassure him but he didn't even glance at her.  

Riese walked back to the other side of the pier, trying to wait patiently for Isabela to finish readying the ship.  Varric scrambled across the deck, following the pirate's orders.  As far as Hawke knew, the dwarf had no experience with boats, but trust Tethras to know something about everything.  Merrill sat a few feet away, staring resolutely at nothing.  Riese tried not to pace, tension turning her stomach.  

Isabela saw her standing there and grimaced.  "I'm moving as fast as I can, Hawke."  "I know," she replied apologetically.  With some reluctance, Riese sat down near Merrill and shut her eyes, trying to be calm.  The battle ahead would be hard for them all.  The Dalish said nothing, lost in her own turmoil.  Hawke was thankful for the silence, too tense for banter, too raw for serious conversation.

In less time than she expected, Isabela had them underway.  Riese expected to spend the trip in silence; the faces of her companions were grim and at this point it seemed there was little left to say.  Varric interrupted her contemplation, voice pitched for her ears only.  "You have to fight, Hawke," the dwarf said.  The mage agreed, "That is why we are going to the Gallows . . ."  Tethras shook his head, "Don't bullshit me.  I don't want to watch you cut down because you won't defend yourself."  His tone was angry.  

"I fight when I have to," Hawke protested.  The dwarf glared, "You mean with the abomination?  Catching templars on the edges of some spell does not count."  Riese looked away, the concern in his eyes harder to take than the anger.  "This is about taking sides.  You made a choice and now you have to defend it.  Our lives depend on that."  She nodded, but her heart clenched on one word. "Carver," she whispered.  

"I know you don't want to fight your brother.  Trust me.  But if it comes down to you or him, I will put a bolt through his throat."  His words twisted her stomach in knots.  Varric had some experience with betrayal and brothers; he was right in this, she knew, but also wrong.  "I don't know if I can do it," she said, looking back up at him.  His gaze softened, "Look, if we can avoid him we will.  I just need to make sure I'm not stepping into a war without you at my back.  If you don't want to kill templars, say the word.  Isabela can get us the hell out of here."  The dwarf looked at the Gallows and added, "I'm not sure that wouldn't be a better idea anyhow."  

Riese nodded her agreement, but as much as she wanted to run, she had responsibilities.  Varric turned back to her, already certain of her answer.  "At least it's never boring around you Hawke.  I just hope we live to regret this."  She gave him a grateful nod as the ship thudded gently against the pier.

Fenris was first out, leaping onto the dock.  She almost thought he would run ahead without them, but he stopped and held out a hand, hauling her over the ship's rail.  Varric was next out, then Merrill, and finally Isabela.  She gave the boat one last look as she tied it off.  "It better be here when we get back," the pirate said.  "Such optimism," Tethras laughed.  She shrugged, "What do you expect, dwarf?  I never lose a fight.  The odds are bad, but that just means the payout is bigger."  Riese smiled at their banter, amazed at how easily they accepted this.  Fenris shook his head, "We are all mad."  With that he turned and raced toward the courtyard.  

The ground was littered with bodies, blood pooling between the stones.  The smell of ozone hung in the air, covering the stench of less pleasant things.  Just up the steps, several mages held a group of templars at bay.  For a moment it seemed they might fall to the armored men, but then Orsino was there.  

Without a pause, the First Enchanter ordered his mages inside. "Quickly!  Quickly," he shouted.  He moved back as his staff began to glow, a warning to the templars.  The men advanced, towering over the old elf, swords raised.  With a look of regret, he cast and they were enveloped in flames.  The sound of their screams echoed across the courtyard, fading until only the crackle of the fire was left.  

Orsino caught sight of Hawke just as he was about to follow the mages inside.  "First Enchanter!" called Riese.  "Champion!  You survived, thank the Maker," he shouted, sounding very surprised.  She started to move toward him when Meredith's harsh voice rang out.  Hawke turned as the Knight Commander entered, several templars in tow.  

"And here you are," Meredith spat, striding up to them.  Orsino marched down the stairs, gripping his staff tightly.  "Let us speak, Meredith, before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect."  Hawke looked between the two, clinging to a glimmer of hope.  From the corner of her eye she saw Fenris sigh.  He held no illusions of a peaceful solution, and he was probably right.  Still, she was glad Orsino was willing to try.  

Meredith paced, a restless predator.  Finally she looked up, "I will entertain your surrender.   Nothing more.  Speak if you have something to say."  

"Revoke the right of annulment, Meredith, before this goes too far.  Imprison us if you must . . . search the tower!  I will even help you, but do not kill us all for an act we did not commit!"  Orsino tried to keep his tone reasonable, but desperation writhed beneath the words, unshakeable.  The Knight-Commander's cold, blue gaze met his, "A Grand Cleric is dead, killed by a mage.  The people will demand retribution and I will give it to them.  Your offer is commendable Orsino, but it comes too late."  

Hawke could not keep silent as hope trickled away.  "We can still prevent this . . . before you both tear Kirkwall apart."  "You heard her," the First Enchanter sighed, motioning to Meredith.  "She's wanted this all along."  Fenris started to say something, and then shook his head.  The look he gave Riese said enough.  This was their last chance to do the right thing, as he saw it.  Hawke refused to meet his gaze.  
She made her choice, and right or wrong she would defend the magi.  If Meredith could not see reason, many would die today and that was tragic, whether the dead were templars or mages.  Hawke gave the Knight Commander a searching look, but Meredith looked at her, impassive.  

"I suppose I should have expected no less from you champion.  So be it.  You will share the Circle's fate."  The judgment in her eyes was absolute and unyielding.  Riese swallowed and squared her shoulders, wondering if the path to peace had ever been anything but illusion.        

"So what is it to be Meredith?  Do we fight here?"  The disgust in Orsino's voice was palpable.  The Knight Commander stepped forward, pointing a finger at the mage, "Go!  Go and prepare your people.  The rest of the Order is already crossing the harbor."  Tethras looked to Hawke, one eyebrow raised.  Perhaps if they attacked now, with most of Meredith's forces too far away to help . . . but she was reluctant to strike first.  

Riese shook her head.  Varric shrugged and patted Bianca, as if to say, now or later, it didn't matter to him.  Isabela caught the exchange and rolled her eyes.  The pirate's opinion was obvious, but she just crossed her arms and waited, willing to follow Hawe's lead.  "This isn't over," the First Enchanter said and turned, striding up the steps.  Hawke and her companions followed.

The mages' tower opened to Hawke for the first time.  She stepped in with a sense of awe and dread that had nothing to do with present circumstance.  A bridge hung over an empty abyss that stretched down into the foundations of the island, while the ceiling stretched away into darkness.  Glowstones lit the path, a platform suspended in the center.  "This is where we will make our stand," Orsino told her.  

Fenris paced the area, looking over it with a critical eye.  Merrill stared open mouthed, which made Riese feel slightly better about her own gawking.  Varric grinned at one of the nervous mages, and the man smiled back.  The dwarf walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, "You mages have style.  I can't think of a better place for a last ditch stand . . . and it makes a pretty tomb too."  He laughed as he said it, and the mage laughed with him, fear ebbing.  

In a few moments, Tethras had them all laughing quietly, tension reduced to uneasy humor.  The First Enchanter gave her an appreciative smile.  "Your companion knows how to lighten hearts."  Hawke nodded, thinking of all the times Varric had been there for her.  An unlikely friend in a strange city, and somehow she managed to drag him into the worst places . . .

Fenris made his way back over to her.  "This place will do.  The mages can keep back while I hold that bridge.  It's a little broader than I would like, but it will keep the templars clustered . . . "  He trailed off unhappily.  Orsino put a hand on his shoulder, "You have our thanks, sirrah.  This is not your fight, I know."  Fenris looked down at the hand on him and shrugged it off with a glare.  
"I am not here for you or your mages.  Do not thank me for this.  Thank her."  He jerked his head in Riese's direction and walked off.  The First Enchanter sighed, "What strange allies fate provides.  Thank you champion."  With that, he left her, stopping to speak with each of his mages.  

She walked over to Varric, hoping to join his conversation, but the mages fell silent.  Their eyes held an odd mix of awe, jealousy and resentment; Riese held back a sigh and tried to ignore them.  Varric, ever gracious, gave her a grin and swept his arms out, "The Champion herself needs me, boys.  Trust me, with her might and my mind, we can't lose."  A few of them laughed or smiled at that, but most took the hint and stepped away, tugging their less perceptive friends along.  

Tethras kept his smile on until they were alone; "Nervous, Hawke?" he asked.  "I know we have to do this but . . . I don't want to lose people," she replied.  The dwarf smirked and looked around, "But what a way to go!  A heroic sacrifice for the good of Kirkwall?  There are worse endings you know."  Riese smiled at his sarcasm.  Tethras sighed, letting the mocking tone go.  "I'm not one for long goodbyes.  I'm not sure we should be doing this . . . helping dangerous people run amok.  But I'm with you."  

She put a hand on Varric's shoulder, "Whatever I'm going into, it's good to have you along."  She wanted to say so much more, but the words caught in her throat.  "It has been an honor, Hawke.  What do ya say, we put an end to all this waiting around and go meet destiny?"  Tethras gave her a genuine smile, the same look they'd shared the moment they stepped into sunlight after weeks trapped in the Deep Roads.  

"Thank you -" Riese started to say, but Varric held up his hand.  "Don't get all mushy on me now.  Just get us through this alive."  Even after so many years, she was surprised by his faith in her and his willingness to follow where she led.  Hawke dearly wished she shared his convictions.

He went back to cheering the mages.  Outside she could hear the templars assembling, the dull clang of heavy armor on stone, hundreds of booted feet moving.  She was lost in thought when Merrill touched her arm.  The Dalish gave Hawke a half smile, "I feel like I'm forgetting something.  Or there's more to do or . . . does all this feel like a dream to you?"  Riese nodded, "I can't believe it's come to this."  

Merrill patter her awkwardly, "You'll get us through this.  You always do."  A shadow passed over her gaze, memories of the massacre of her clan.  Hawke wanted to ask how, after that, Merrill could place any trust in her.  "Riese, before we go . . . I -" Hawke interrupted her.  Whatever the Dalish had been about to say, there was a weightiness behind it, a sense of depth the mage did not want to touch.  

"Whatever happens Merrill, I am proud to have known you."  Merrill looked down, hands tightly clenched in front of her.  Riese almost did not hear her soft, "Thank you."  Hawke touched her shoulder lightly, and then left Merrill to her thoughts.  

Isabela stood off to the side, nearly lost in the shadows.  Her arms were crossed, expression worried.  "Shouldn't you be halfway to Tevinter by now?" Hawke asked, walking over to her.  "Maker's breath . . . Take off with one tiny, priceless relic and you never hear the end of it," the pirate answered, lips quirking into a half grin.  Riese was trying to think of a witty reply but Isabela was not done.  She put an arm over the mage's shoulder, leaning in close.  

"Your life would have been easier if you had just cut me out of it.  But you stood by me.  You defied the Qunari and fought their Arishok for me . . . even after I betrayed you.  You stuck up for me when you believed I was wrong."  Hawke nodded, trying to make light of it, "Yes but if you'd gone, I wouldn't be able to yell at you."  

Remembering the fight with the Arishok always made her feel a bit ill.  Death and blood . . . she had not come in time to save so many.  The battle itself was a haze of fear and magic, a desperate gambit to do the right thing for her friend and Kirkwall.  She came so close to just giving Isabela up, but no matter what the pirate had done wrong, she deserved a better fate than the Qunari would provide.  

Isabela gave her a look that said she knew exactly what Hawke was thinking.  She squeezed her shoulders, "Oh?  Well, I'm glad you wanted to yell at me so badly then.  I know in the past I . . . well I haven't exactly inspired confidence, but I swear this time I will come through for you.  When you look for me, I'll be fighting at your side."  Riese smiled at her, "I am glad to have you at my back, Isabela.  We haven't always seen eye to eye, but you will always be a friend.  Thank you."  

The pirate let go, wiping at her eye for a moment, "Ah, Hawke, you . . . you're something else."  The mage gave Isabela a knowing smile before the pirate paced away, embarrassed by the show of emotion.  Her support in this was unexpected.  Isabela had no stake in this fight, and more - she had a ship.  More than any of them, the pirate had the means and reason to escape.  It meant a lot to Riese that she would stay and fight.  One more ally in this near futile war.    

She walked to the bridge where Fenris stood and watched him quietly.  After a moment he turned, his expression unreadable.  "Here I am about to defend these mages in hopeless battle," he motioned to the huddled figures behind her, mouth twisting with distaste.  "Fenris . . . I . . ."  

He motioned her to silence, lips quirking into a rare smile.  "You lead me to the strangest places, Hawke."  Of all the things she expected him to say, recriminations and blame, melancholy, angst . . . she had never expected this jovial sense of damnation.  Somehow it made all the dire, melancholy things she was prepared for seem silly.  She poked him lightly, "I will take you to places far stranger than this, elf.  Just wait."  

Fenris caught her hand and brought it to his lips, "A tempting offer."  He held her tightly as he looked away, smile fading.  "I . . . may not get the chance to say this again."  His gaze found her, "Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke.  Promise me you won't die?  I can't bear the thought of living without you."  He pulled her to him, arms going around her waist.  

Riese let him hold her, resting against his chest.  "I don't make that promise unless you do."  Fenris put a hand on her chin, tilting her face to his.  "Nothing is going to keep me from you," he said, tone fierce.  His lips crushed hers, bruising in their intensity, devouring her with need.  It was a consumation of their oath, defiant in the face of futility.  When he pulled back, Riese smiled, touching her lips lightly.  Fenris took a deep breath, relinquishing his grasp.  There was no need for more words between them.                          

As they stepped away from each other, the tower door flew open.  The mages scrambled into position, magic crackling around them as they readied spells for the beginning of the onslaught.  Only two figures strode across the bridge.  The door clanged shut behind them; two templars, swords drawn, helms down.  They stopped, one ahead of the other, only a few feet from Riese.  Fenris drew his blade slowly, unsure what this meant.  Hawke held out her staff, eyeing the two men.  

"We aren't here to fight," one of them called out.  "Not yet," the other said softly.  "Then what do you want?" she asked.  The one in front pulled off his helmet clumsily, tossing it to the floor.  Carver looked at Riese, glancing behind her, fury dancing in his eyes.  "Have you lost your mind?" he asked, gesturing to the mages.  

"Have you lost yours?" Hawke retorted.  "Every one of these mages is going to die in a few minutes," her brother hissed, "Every one.  Nothing can stand against Meredith, against the Order."  Riese drew up her chin, ignoring the ache in her heart.  "Someone has to defend them.  You can't think what the Knight-Commander is doing is right."  Carver looked down at his sword and then back to his sister.  "Right or wrong, it is her command.  Not mine, not yours.  But you . . . you don't have to die with them."  The fury in his gaze did not abate, though his tone was colored with desperation.  

"Do you really think Meredith would let met go?  She would kill me with the rest.  Or worse.  Besides, even if she would, I could not live knowing I walked out on them."  Hawke gestured to the mages nearby, some merely children.  Her brother flinched, but held her gaze.  "The Knight Commander said that -" Riese cut him off. "Did she send you here to persuade me?  Why do you think that is, Carver?  Because she knows we have a chance.  If I leave . . . " she looked back at the assembled mages before continuing in a quieter voice.  "If I leave, they won't have much of a chance.  They know nothing of battle.  Most barely know how to cast basic spells, much less something to hold off a trained templar."  

Carver had the grace to blush in embarrassment.  "I - we . . . it is our duty, sister."  "Your duty?  To whom?  Meredith?  What about family?  Would you really kill me for that woman?"  At that, her brother's face fell, empty of anything but anguish.  "I don't want to, Riese.  Please . . . don't force me to choose.  Come with me.  No matter what Meredith has planned, I will protect you . . . let me do this.  I cannot bear to lose you."  She shook her head, feeling her throat clench.  
"I can't," she said hoarsely.  Carver dropped to his knees, sword falling to his side.  "I am begging you.  Me!  Your arrogant, pig headed brother.  Please!"  She knelt in front of him, laying her staff down.  Hawke reached for his hand, the leather of her gloves rasping against his plate gauntlet.  The templar behind him made an unhappy sound, "Remember yourself, sirrah!  We are here to bring the Champion out!"  They ignored him.

Carver's eyes met hers, his face so like her own.  Emotions played out in their depths as he weighed family and duty, love and faith.  His shoulders slumped as something in him broke.  He pulled Hawke close, hugging her tightly.  "You damned fool," he whispered.  Carver released her and stood, turning to look at the other templar.  

"Tell the Knight Commander . . . tell Meredith the Champion is not coming.  Neither am I."  The templar raised his blade menacingly, "You will die in disgrace, boy."  Her brother shrugged, "I would rather die trying to do something half right than live knowing I did something wrong."  The other man took a step forward, and perhaps would have said more, but Fenris' blade leveled at his chest.  "Go," the elf spat.  The templar turned and left, no one breathing until the door shut behind him.  

For a long moment the siblings stood side by side, uncertain of each other.  The warrior broke the silence first, habits nearly ten years past resurfacing.  "Well sister, it seems I am doomed to fight in your shadow."  Carver's laugh was a bit forced, smile laced with a little bitterness.  "I don't see how you can fight in my shadow when you are nearly a foot taller," she replied, picking up her staff.  

He laughed again, warmer this time, "I suppose your right.  Just make sure when we die today that the stories say the Champion stood in her little brother's shadow . . . "  Carver looked to Varric, "Got that, dwarf?"  Tethras nodded, "I can't make 'em believe it, but sure, whatever makes you happy."  Her brother nodded, picking up his blade and sheathing it.  "So what's the plan?"  

Fenris began explaining his strategy, Carver nodding, adding bits here and there where the elf's knowledge of the Order's tactics was lacking.  Hawke left them to it.  She could tell Carver was not wholly comfortable with his choice, but she was glad he was with them.  It took a weight from her heart knowing that she would not be fighting her little brother.  There was still so much between them, old wounds that might never close, but for today none of that mattered.  

Even through the heavy steel doors, they could hear the templars outside.  A horde of armed men sworn to fight, to see them all dead.  The faces around Riese were full of fear as the sounds grew to a steady roar.  Hawke stepped to the center of the stone island, pulling every gaze to her.  She took a deep breath, steadying herself.  "We are cornered.  The templars know it, you know it, but this is bigger than their hate, their fear.  They've come to take your lives and we are saying no!"  Riese paused, looking around her, "We didn't want this but sometimes - sometimes you just have to stand."  

The mages shouted then, their cries echoing through the tower, hundreds of voices made one, hundreds of hearts united.  As the echoes died away, the air was torn by a resounding screech, steel doors torn from the wall, ancient stone crumbling to dust from the assault.  "Champion, it is beginning," Orsino shouted.  He need not have said anything.  

Beyond the crumpled steel, the enemy stood, armor shining in the dim light.  
Somewhere in their ranks, Meredith shouted, "This tower must be cleansed!"  The templars surged forward, a deep throated and blood thirsty cry their only reply.