Toro Tokuda

9.

“I never thought we’d be at the brothel twice in a single day,” Fenris noted once they were nearly back to the city. Hawke didn’t reply, her mind turning over all the new information. “Why did he think you were your sister?”

“I suppose he doesn’t know we’re not one and the same,” she murmured quietly. “Probably just got reported as ‘Hawke.’ I’m not one to complain about this, since she’s now safer.”

Her tone was distracted, so he was quiet until she started to steer them into Darktown. “The Rose is the opposite direction.” He stopped, and pointed helpfully towards the district.

She didn’t stop, just turned to look at him with a little knowing smile before continuing on. He followed after. “I thought that a conference with our resident mage might be in order. He must know more about non-mage abominations than either of us.”

“But we are working to help templars. He’ll refuse to help—“

“You know it is maleficarum, Fen. Anders hates blood mages nearly as much as you do.”

The elf grunted a reluctant agreement, keeping a step behind her as they picked the familiar path to his clinic. It was packed, children running about, some of them crying— and Anders was in the middle of it all. 

Brona stepped up to him to see what he was doing, and upon a glance at her he looked very relieved— and promptly handed her a swaddled bundle. It squirmed, and so she held it, mostly in surprise. “Anders, I don’t really do babies—“

“I don’t care. Someone dumped that one down here, and I can’t get anything done while caring for it.” 

He was away before he could hear her protests, so Hawke just sat down on the abandoned cot, holding the babe against her torso, trying to imitate the way others had done it. Fenris joined her, finger moving the blanket enough to get a look at the baby.

“Oh, an elf— at least partially,” he noted, his voice soft, and showing her the ears. “Maybe those Dalish on the top of the mount will take it.”

“You could keep it.” He scoffed, finger withdrawing. “No, you don’t do child-rearing?”

“No.”

She cracked a smile, gazing down at the little sleeping thing. “A shame someone dumped him on Anders.”

“It won’t be the last,” he reminded her. “Better than what could have happened to it.”

They sat there for a while, their topic turning back to their current investigations, reviewing everything they knew, combing over little clues and evidence, until Anders finally returned.

“Ah, good, you’ve taken to him—“

“No!” She said quickly, standing to meet him. “Maybe if we weren’t at Gamlen’s—“

“It was mostly a jest,” he cut her off, smiling and watching as her arms tightened for a firmer and more comforting hold of the swaddled babe. “I’m assuming you’re here for a reason?”

“Yes, there was a— well, a possessed templar, who turned into an abomination, and there’s probably more—“

“Woah.” He waved his hands to stop that line of thought. “What do you mean, a possessed templar? As in a demon— a spirit—“

“Yes, no doubt about it,” Fenris said, standing as well. “Hawke thought you might grant some insight that we don’t have.”

He looked thoughtful, adjusting his staff between his hands as he pondered. “Well, whatever it is, obviously some kind of blood magic was involved. They would have had to summon a spirit and then force the resulting demon into a prepared— well, host. That might be why they used templars. The lyrium might have made it easier.” He looked between them both, and this his eyes landed on Hawke’s. “I would not advise going to face them alone. I will join you, once you know where they are.”

“Our current trail is to the brothel.”

“You’d go to a brothel?” He said in a light and teasing tone, to which she frowned at him. “Well, don’t have too much fun there without me—“

“I’m there,” Fenris defended quickly.

“Or you,” Anders added with a little teasing wink. The elf scoffed, but looked away, going from the pair of them to the other side of the clinic. The mage’s smile didn’t falter, but his attention returned to Brona. “But more importantly, be careful. I know you’re quite competent— mentally— but blood magic is an entirely different beast.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said quickly, “the templars think that I’m the mage. They have ‘Hawke’ in their reports, and they think it’s me—“

“That is good, isn’t it?”

“I think so? As long as I stay in their good graces, anyway.”

“If there is a single slip-up, if you give them any reason to drag you into the Gallows— I shudder to think what might happen—“

“It won’t.”

He didn’t look convinced, even with her stern look and the confidence in her voice. “You can’t know that, Hawke. All you can do is clear up this business with the templars, and then stay as far away from them as you can.”

“They have no way of really knowing—“

“Yes, they do,” he returned firmly, taking a step closer with his eyes intent on hers. “They do. Promise me, you’ll be careful.”

Hawke’s eyes stayed directly on his, as if he was giving her much of a choice. “I promise to be careful.” 

He nodded and breathed a “good” before he forced himself to turn away. “The brothel, then?”

“Yes, hopefully we’ll find some sort of lead there. Maybe either of them slipped up with one of the girls— men— people—“ He shook his head from where he was at his table, putting together a fresh poultice. “Fenris did most of the talking.”

“I’d imagine so.”

The elf reappeared beside her, as if the mention of his name made it so. “You can’t take the babe with us.”

Hawke adjusted the still-slumbering infant against her chest, looking from Fenris to the mage. He glanced at her from his work. “I’ll find him a home, Hawke, don’t worry.”

“But not slavers, or templars—“

“What do you take me for?”

Anders returned to take the baby, which she gave up somewhat reluctantly. Her arms felt empty and cold without him, and she felt an overwhelming need to take him back. “Maybe the Chantry,” she said quietly, stepping to follow Anders as he walked with the elven child. “People do that, don’t they?”

“Fenris,” Anders stated quietly, and the elf took her arm in his hand and had to tug her away.

“But the state of the people down here—“ she protested. “What if he doesn’t live? What if the Blight gets him, or—“

“He’ll be fine. Babies have survived much worse than the slums and the undercity,” Fenris reminded her. “Besides, we have work to do, and it does not involve a baby you just met.”

“You didn’t feel it, Fen, he needed me.”

“What he needed was comfort, which you gave him. If you are so eager to have a child, might I remind you that you are more than capable of carrying and birthing your own.”

The thought sobered her, and she stopped resisting his pull. They walked in silence through darktown.

“I didn’t think I wanted children,” she finally said as they were climbing the steps through lowtown, and his eyebrows rose a little. “Knowing they’d probably be mages, knowing what the world is like… I didn’t want to bring anyone into this horrific place.”

“And now, that’s changed?”

“I… don’t know. I’m not opposed to it. I never really considered it, never held a baby— not as an adult, anyway. I never understood that feeling, that parents must have, that need to protect and nurture.”

“Yes, you have. It’s how you are with Bethany.”

“That’s my sister. It’s not the same.”

He made an amused noise, deep in his throat. “Well, once we return from the Deep Roads, I am available, should the thoughts still haunt you.”

“Well it’s— Fenris,” she scolded, but it was without much conviction. Her face, however, was thoroughly turning pink.

It only seemed to amuse him further, enjoying seeing her flustered. “Anders isn’t quite an option, with the Taint, and I’m not quite sure what a half-dwarf child looks like. You are so large, however, perhaps it would cancel out.”

“Fenris—“

“But it is too bad that Sebastian is who he is—“

That was the final straw. “Fenris, really, stop, it was a silly idea.”

“Is it? Provided that the expedition succeeds, what do you plan to do with the rest of your life?”

“After you kill Danarius?” He made an affirmative sound. “I… don’t know. I hadn’t really considered that far ahead. What do you plan to do?”

“Freedom,” he muttered, contemplating. “Perhaps I’ll stay in Kirkwall for a time, see what your estate is like, once you regain it. And then, who knows?”

“Once he is dead, you don’t have to stay in that house. Would you want to stay at ours?”

“I wouldn’t oppose a room, for when I’m in the city. That does simplify a lot of things. Not to mention you having easy access, should the mood take you again.”

Brona’s mouth fell into a disapproving line. “I was thinking more about how much my mother would enjoy you visiting.”

“That too.”

They fell into silence until they were inside the brothel once again. Fenris seemed more at home than he had earlier in the day, coercing the logbook’s data without any real issue. He led the way up to the whore’s rooms, but instead of following him over the threshold, Brona paused on the hall side. She had an uneasy feeling, and Fenris glanced back at her.

“Don’t worry,” the woman said from where she was combing out her hair from the window. “I have plenty of time for both of you; strapping warriors as you are. Siblings?”

“Do we look like siblings?” Fenris wondered, attention drawn over to the sultry woman and her smoother voice.

“A girl can dream, can she not?” She smiled, piling her hair over her shoulder and really looking at them then. “Come in; close the door. You both look like you could use a long rest, and some good company.”

“We are actually here with some questions,” Hawke stated in the firmest voice she could muster. She did step in and close the door, though, even as Fenris moved to sit casually on the unmade bed.

“We could do with some relaxing, first,” he told her.

She shook her head. “No, no, we need to know what happened to Wilmod.”

“Wilmod?” The other woman glided across the floor, using her comb on Fenris’ rat’s nest of hair with hums as she thought. “Wilmod… the name does sound vaguely familiar. But I don’t know… talking isn’t one of my strong suits. Conversing, weaving beautiful words—“

“Wilmod,” Brona said again. “Yes, he was here, wasn’t he? When was the last time you saw him?”

“Bulky fellow, wasn’t he, if but a bit…” She trailed off in a soft hum. “I… don’t recall when was the last. Not any time recent. But this one,” she murmured, fingers gliding through Fenris’ hair with smiles for him— that he was returning, “much sweeter than any I’ve had as of late. All my visitors are so grumpy—“

Brona stepped over to insert herself between Fenris and this woman. The pressure was nearly overwhelming as she stared her down. She wasn’t sure before, but now Hawke was certain: this woman was bewitching in the worst possible way. Fenris never smiled, not like that. And now it was Hawke’s turn to be bewitched— or so the whore was desperately trying. Brona ignored the pawing of Fenris to try to get past her, gently, as to not harm his new affection.

“Andraste’s tits,” the whore finally breathed. She shuddered and took a step back, hand to her head as if she was suddenly weak and liable to tumble over at any second. “You—“

“Wilmod. Kieran. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I—“

“Yes, or yes?”

“Not of my own accord,” the whore finally stuttered out. “I just bewitch them; what is done after, I don’t know.”

“Names, locations, any information you can give me.”

“You… you’re not going to kill me?”

“You are a small part of a much larger investigation. A valuable part, but small nonetheless. Dealing with you does not fall to me. Depending on if we can recover Kieran alive and unharmed will likely determine your punishment by the Templars.” The whore nodded her understanding. “Information.”

Without her magic, the woman spilled every ounce of information that she could recall, and it was during that that Fenris finally recovered himself. He stayed behind Brona while she spoke and interrogated, and was still there as they left.

“That was blood magic,” Fenris murmured as they started down to Lowtown.

“Something I am sure the Knight-Captain will be keen to hear.” He made a dissatisfied noise. “What?”

“She bewitched me with little difficulty. Considering my extensive experience, I would be impressed if it wasn’t so worrisome. Did she not bewitch you as well?”

“She tried.”

Fenris mulled that over until they were in the boat to the Gallows. “Did you have mind training, by your father, perhaps?”

“Nothing formal.” She didn’t change her position, nor how she was watching the Gallows come closer and closer, but the line of questioning was making her deeply uncomfortable. It set her stomach on the turn.

Fenris followed her gaze. “You do realise that by the time he sends Templars for her, she’ll be gone.”

“She’ll survive. She was likely being blackmailed and coerced into doing it at all. That’s what it seemed like to me. If I thought her truly evil, she would be in the boat with us, dead or alive.” She dared a glance to the elf. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Fenris sighed, adjusting on the creaking wood. “It seems I am not as impervious as I would like to believe.” She made a softly agreeing sound, hand tight on the railing of the boat as they docked. “I am grateful, Hawke.”

“Wait until I tell Anders—“

“Don’t.”

Her laughter fell from her as they climbed up onto the dock. Fenris was at her shoulder as she walked into the Gallows, and was immediately met by the Knight-Captain. He looked them both over with raised eyebrows.

“You’ve returned,” he stated, and Hawke nodded. “I wasn’t expecting you so quickly.”

“We’ve gotten a lot of information, and to where Kieran may be held. The woman in question at the Blooming Rose was nothing less of a powerful maleficar. Not particularly dangerous, once she was neutralised of that advantage. Warn your Templars of mental manipulation, and do not send less than the strongest minds.”

“Perhaps I should have gone with you,” Cullen sighed, looking out over the courtyard. “Very well. I understand why you did not bring her in yourself.” He waved them to follow him to a more secluded corner of the courtyard, and Brona relayed all the information they had gathered about the hideout, and a more detailed retelling of the encounter itself. “Such a place may be too dangerous for even you, Hawke. That much blood magic, rampant demons… I would offer to go with you but…” He sighed, rubbing at his jaw and looking decidely anywhere but at her. “I am afraid that sending anyone else, especially other Templars, will serve no purpose but for a further panic. I will not order it of you, but… I would appreciate if you could take care of this.”

“I do have some experience with those things,” Fenris put in. “As long as we’re strategic, we should be able to infiltrate and take them down.”

“But you aren’t a mage,” Cullen stated bluntly, eyes finally returning to Hawke. “The danger there will be immeasurable.”

She stared at this man, this Templar, this Ferelden. “I know. However, this is what the city, the templars, the Maker, and what you need me to do. And I will not be alone.”

“The Maker,” Cullen returned, eyes dropping immediately to their boots. He took in a deep breath to steady himself. “I know, but I also know that it feels as if I am sending you to your own doom. The thought of another abomination because of all of this, and that I had the power to prevent it…”

“If that maleficar couldn’t break me, I wouldn’t expect those that trained her could, either. Besides, I am trained for battle, and this will hardly be the first blood mage I slaughter.”

(I have yet to finish this. I hope you enjoyed what I did write, though!)