Hawke folded Varric’s highly confidential letter neatly, and placed it next to the Warden’s note between the pages of the last place anyone would accidentally look: an unread volume of Manners of a Modern Gentlewoman that had been a gift from her mother. Then she swore long and hard with deep emotion before grabbing a quill and going to work.
***
“Oh, Antiva.” Anders sighed as their caravan wagon topped a hill that let them see the city of Bastion spread out below, the Amaranthine Ocean glittering in the noon sunlight. “I always get this itchy feeling between my shoulder blades when we come here.”
“Don’t worry – I won’t let the Crows get you,” Hawke said, and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.
“I can’t believe there’s a contract out for me – what kind of Chantry sends assassins after people?”
Hawke shrugged. “The Antivan Chantry?”
“My point exactly.”
“Well, now they’ve all got other things on their mind,” Hawke offered in a conciliatory tone.
Anders scoffed. “What, like they took out a contract telling the Crows to ‘go get whoever breached the sky and murdered the Divine’?” He paused, and Hawke raised an eyebrow at him, suggesting that Antivans did seem to turn to their Crows for nearly anything.
“Well, even if they did, that might not exactly decrease the amount of assassination attempts they make on me!”
Hawke considered this. It was true – they’d both heard it speculated that the same person behind the explosion in Kirkwall that tore the Chantry apart (literally and figuratively) had been responsible for the catastrophic events at the Conclave. She really would have to be on her guard, and was glad she wasn’t planning on being in Antiva past nightfall. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she answered, keeping her tone light for Anders. “I haven’t stabbed anyone in weeks – I think I might be getting rusty.” Her grin teased Anders’ face out of its scowl – a lovely victory. His mouth was much better suited for smiles.
Despite Anders’ dire predictions, they made it all the way down to the harbor without a single attempted murder. It was always nicer traversing a city in the daylight – much less fighting in dark alleys. Hawke stood in the bustle of stevedores and dock hands and merchants yelling orders and shaded her eyes and as she scanned the hundreds of ships of various sizes at anchor in and around the harbor while keeping alert for signs of trouble. Anders, meanwhile, was entranced by two scruffy young cats stalking a fisherman’s nets further away for leftover treats. Hawke felt the tiniest stitch of guilt intrude on how sweet he was in his moment of carefree delight. She still hadn’t told him what they were doing here – not exactly. It wouldn’t do to upset him needlessly, and besides, she had said nothing that wasn’t absolutely true. She had received an important message from Varric, and she did need to meet with him urgently. That the meeting wasn’t happening at the Bastion waterfront… well, that was a minor detail Anders would find out soon enough.
Far out in the harbor, Hawke finally caught sight of two masts over a sleek hull carrying many blue sails with gold trimming – unmistakable and reassuring. While Anders, curious cats in tow, went off to find a fisherman to purchase something better than leftovers from, Hawke caught sight of a girl with muscular arms ably navigating her dinghy past the big traders loading and unloading. Giving a whistle and tossing her a silver got her attention, and a few words later the little boat quickly changed direction.
Not long after that, a delighted Anders had the feral cats eating bits of fresh fish out of his hand, and Hawke was busy following the shoreward progress of a particular longboat through the crowded harborfront traffic.
With impeccable timing, it hauled up by the docks just as Anders ran out of treats for his newfound herd of cats. “Excellent – we need a couple more!” a Rivani sailor shouted up at them, and Anders looked confused.
“We’re meeting on the ship,” Hawke explained, studiously avoiding any names. “I think they might need more cats.” When this didn’t make Anders seem any less confused, she added, “For the ship. They eat the rats?”
This was all it took – he hurried to pick two cats with the best ‘sealegs’ (whatever that meant in cats), and was somehow allowed to pluck them from the dock and deposit them into a wicker basket used for the sailors’ provisions while Hawke chatted with the sailor woman and her small crew of rowers.
They were halfway out on the bay before Anders narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the blue sails becoming more and more prominent over the looming forest of masts. “Hang on. Isn’t that Isabela’s new boat?”
Hawke didn’t try to deny it, or correct his terminology. “The Siren’s Revenge is one of the fastest ships in the Amaranthine.”
Anders frowned, but the cats had started complaining, which offered a nice distraction. Hawke exchanged glances with the lieutenant – Leire, she had called herself – and silently congratulated the woman on her cunning. Had she asked for the cats on orders from Isabela? Hawke wouldn’t put it past their self-proclaimed admiral.
The brigantine had an elegant contraption for hauling longboats out of the water – Hawke detected a hint of glowing runes on some of the tackle, and there was a definite rush of weightlessness as they seemed to leap straight out of the waves and into the waiting berth. With Anders arms wrapped around a basket of two now-angry cats, there was no need for Hawke to restrain him, so she threw herself into a round of joyful deckside reunion. Isabela was an enthusiastic hugger, of course, and even Fenris deigned to step in for a quick embrace before going back to glowering at Anders, who had frozen just this side of the railing.
“Oh, you brought cats! Delightfully kind of you,” Isabela cooed, but when a cabin girl stepped in to relieve Anders of the basket, her captain gave her a sharp headshake. Yes, clearly Hawke wasn’t the only one who could see the utility of keeping her mage from his staff for now. “We’ve been having a bit of a problem with–”
“Varric,” Anders said, biting off Isabela’s cheerful sentence.
“No, I was more thinking rats?”
“He’s not here, is he?” Anders turned to Hawke.
“I never said he was!” she exclaimed.
“You never said we were taking her boat!”
“Ship!” Isabela snapped.
“I didn’t say we weren’t, either!”
“And you never mentioned he would be here!” Anders spared a moment’s glaring at Hawke to glare at Fenris.
The crew were staring at the yelling mage annoying their captain and her beau with some interest, so Isabela turned and snapped something in sailor speak to them, and most of them went some feet away and pretended to be busy.
“Are you quite done?” Hawke cocked her head and met Anders glare with a smirk. “Or do you need to get anything else off your chest?”
“Yes, please, let’s share our feelings with all of Bastion,” Fenris muttered.
Isabela elbowed him in the side. “Shush.”
Anders took a deep breath, as if about to continue shouting, but then he just sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The honest hurt in his eyes went straight to Hawke’s heart.
“Would you have come if I had?”
“Yes!” Anders protested.
“Without complaining every step of the way?”
Anders opened his mouth. “I…” He closed it again. “Probably not.” Hawke counted his rueful grin as a great personal victory. She took the basket of cats from him, handed it to the girl who’d been hovering next to Anders this whole time, and then she put a hand on her lover’s cheek and gave him a quick kiss. They endured an unintelligible comment from Fenris and a gleeful whistle from Isabela, but it did seem to improve Anders’ mood considerably.
“Right, now that we’ve settled that – I think we need some privacy for this next part.”
Isabela’s eyebrows rose. “You really do move quickly! I didn’t think Anders would be the sharing–”
“For talking,” Hawke clarified, more amused than exasperated.
“Oh.” Isabela’s face fell, but she started leading them to her cabin.
“It’s alright – you’re not missing out on anything you haven’t already had,” Hawke gave Isabela a friendly nudge to cheer her up on the way there, ignoring the way she could feel Anders hackles rise where he was striding along behind her.
“What? Oh, no. I mean, don’t get me wrong – I wouldn’t say no to that, if you offered – but you went and got my hopes up.”
Only slightly offended to be in the ‘wouldn’t say no if offered’ category rather than ‘jump your bones at first opportunity’, Hawke asked, “For what?”
“Anders and Fenris, of course,” Isabela said, eliciting the most amazing noises of outrage from the parties in question.
Hawke laughed out loud, and Isabela gave her a wicked grin while Anders and Fenris both tried to outdo each other in their protestations that they would never.
“Well, here we are!” Isabela flung open a door at the end of the hallway, completely ignoring the calamity she had caused, and Hawke gave a low whistle. The room was everything she had expected Isabela’s Admiral’s Suite to be – opulent, decadent, and highly functional all at once. The centerpiece was a sturdy table that rose from the deck to display a large map of the Amaranthine Ocean and Waking Sea, with familiar coastlines annotated with strange markings Hawke couldn’t make sense of.
The last of the curious crew were shooed out of the hallway behind them, and Isabela had a quick check outside the window, then told them they were all clear.
Hawke took the second most plushy chair available, leaving Anders and Fenris, still staring daggers at each other, to sorting out their own seating arrangements.
“Alright,” Hawke said, the familiar excitement of having her cherished friends gathered around to listen at one of her plans marred only by the non-negligible scope of the bad news she had to share. “It seems we’ve got a bit of a problem on our hands…”
***
Varric would have been proud of the wide-eyed shock that greeted the retelling of his letter. There had been few interruptions as Hawke laid out the situation as he had shared it, adding a few of her own details in explanation. Fenris looked like he’d swallowed a live hedgehog, and Isabela’s lips were pinched, but they allowed her finish before getting on with the friendly haranguing along the expected lines: how could you; how does one lose Grey Wardens?, he wasn’t dead? Ancient Tevinter magister?!; I told you so and Anders tensing up next to her, ready to loom threateningly in Fenris’ direction even as he was trying to absorb the bad news himself. Hawke put a hand on his arm, winced, and let them yell for a bit.
“Yes.” She finally cut Fenris off mid-diatribe. “You are absolutely right. This is awful because… magisters, and everything.”
“I wasn’t fin–”
“We don’t have much time.” Hawke released Anders’ hand to make a sharp gesture. She was much gratified when Fenris stilled, and didn’t fail to notice that Isabela was very gently resting her fingertips on his shoulder. “This is a real danger. Worse than anything we ever faced in Kirkwall. What we know from the Wardens, and Varric asked for my help for — I have to go.”
Anders turned to her, crestfallen. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”
Hawke shook her head sharply. “You can’t.”
“Absolutely you can’t. This Corypheus took over your mind,” Fenris said, and Hawke shot him an annoyed glance. Of course he would remember that particular detail, out of all the things she had shared.
Isabela raised an eyebrow at Hawke. “You know, he does have a point.”
“I know,” Hawke agreed. At Anders betrayed look, she hurried to explain. “It’s true, it’s – it’s too dangerous for you. And it’s too dangerous for you to get anywhere near that Cassandra – I know what Varric’s told us about her, but she’s Chantry and you’re… uh.”
Anders gave a disgusted sigh. “Yes, yes, I know. But – even for part of the journey, you’re going to need someone, need me to–”
“I’m going to need you as far away from the evil ancient magic-doer who blew a hole into the Fade as I can get you. You know what he did last time, and he was asleep then.”
“Listen to her, mage,” Fenris said harshly.
“And I’m pretty sure you’re still a Grey Warden,” Isabela commented. “And Hawke said her friend had lost his. We can’t have her lose you the same way, you know.”
There was a fierce fire in Anders’ eyes, but from the way he flopped limply back in his chair told Hawke he knew he was beaten in this. “Awful as it is to say this, you may be right,” he sighed.
And now for the next part – possibly more difficult. Hawke turned to give Anders’ arm a reassuring stroke. “That’s right, love. And you’ll be safe here.”
Isabela smirked, and Fenris, clearly warned to be on his best behavior, scowled silently.
Anders, on the other hand, almost fell out of his chair. “You’re joking?!” His eyes were wild, and when he regained his balance it was to stand, as if he could solve all of this by bolting. Hawke felt inordinately pleased with her earlier subterfuge – if she’d been on dry land, Anders really could have run. Now, he’d also have to swim.
“I’m afraid not,” Fenris sighed.
“We are to be a big happy family for as long as your Champion needs you safe,” Isabela smiled, showing lots of teeth.
“No,” Anders turned to Hawke, imploring. “Leave me if you must, but do not leave me on this… boat.”
“Ship,” everyone else in the room corrected him, with varying levels of irritation.
“And not with them,” Anders went on.
“We are right here, you know,” Fenris said, and Hawke could have sworn he was smirking slightly, enjoying Anders’ discomfort more than he loathed the prospect of safeguarding the mage for the foreseeable future.
Hawke stood, and when Anders didn’t flinch, she moved close enough to envelop him in an embrace. He was so tense he was nearly shivering, and everything about him radiated misery. Ignoring their company, she stroked his hair, and kissed his temple. “You know I can’t bear to be away from you,” he murmured under his breath, and Hawke’s throat felt too tight for breath.
“I know.” This was a terrible necessity, and they did both knew it. Didn’t mean they couldn’t have a moment to wish that at things could be different.
“Aw, you two are so sweet,” Isabela sighed behind them. Fenris made a vague retching noise. Heh. Just like old times.
“But you know what’s even worse than being away from you?”
Anders sighed. “Having to fight me when an ancient darkspawn magister uses me as his meat puppet?”
Fenris snickered. Hawke nodded.
“I… can see your point,” Anders said, still reticent.
“That, or finding you’ve disappeared down some nasty old tunnel to join the other Wardens in building a temple to the Mole God, or whatever it is they’re doing now.”
Anders shuddered. “Maker forbid.”
Good. This was the best she could have hoped for – her instructions to Isabela had included a worst-case scenario where they used some good old-fashioned kidnapping techniques. She was sure Fenris regretted the lost opportunity.
“You’ll be safe here – as soon as you sail, even I won’t know where to find you. Neither will Corypheus, not out on the open sea. No Deep Roads under the ocean. Right?” Hawke suddenly wasn’t so sure.
“Not that I know of.”
“So that’s two for one – no Mole Temples, and no darkspawn.”
“Well, as long as I’m safe from the Great Mole,” Anders smiled weakly.
“Right?” Hawke grinned at him, resentful of the fact that they had to have this conversation in front of an audience – but there was no time to waste, not even for a final night with her lover. (In hindsight, she was sure Anders would understand more about that whole thing at the inn yesterday now.)
“If there is such a beast, I doubt it would take to the sea,” Fenris said with such a deadpan expression that Hawke wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not.
“Hawke,” Isabela said.
Hawke reluctantly broke her gaze with Anders. “Yes?”
“The tides,” Isabela said. “With the wind coming from the east, we can’t wait much longer, or we won’t be able to set sail until the morning.”
Yes. Maybe if they made this quick it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Hawke chuckled grimly. And maybe if she had a tame dragon she could fly over to Varric’s Inquisition buddies and be back in time for dinner.
“Let’s get me back to Bastion.” She nodded, and Isabela lead them back the way they came, Anders now at Hawke’s side despite the narrow passage.
“Anders,” she said, “Don’t forget…” Anders looked at her with such sad, serious eyes that all the sad, serious things Hawke had been thinking became too much to take, and she flashed him a grin instead.
“Remember, you still haven’t paid Fenris what you owe him from all those rounds of Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Fenris said. “Thank you.”
“So try to win it back?”
Anders, clearly getting ready to brood on a clutch of dark thoughts and fears until she returned was taken aback by her choice of parting advice. “I– how?”
“You’re clever,” Hawke smiled. “I’ll leave you to figure something out.”
After that, there was only one last embrace, and the words she shared with Anders before hopping into the longboat and being lowered to the waves by Leire and her crew were for his ears and his heart only.
As the crew’s oars cut through the waves back to shore, Hawke kept her eyes fixed on Anders for as long as she could. He stood still but straight, and it calmed her to know he had cast off the worst of the despair that had threatened him when he realized he was to be left behind. It also helped to see Isabela with Fenris next to her by his side. Despite everything, she trusted them – both of them – not only with her own life, but with his.
“I’ll be back,” she murmured softly. Promising him, reassuring herself. “I’ll be back.”