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Follow the thread through the dark.
You'll fall. You'll err. You'll ache.
But have faith, and you will find a spark.
Everyone expected Hawke to solve their problems.
Edvard aimlessly picked at his nails while he listened with half an ear to Nuncio's story. The Antivan, like many of his countrymen, had a flair for theatrics. He was talking animatedly, hands slicing through the air, expressions changing with the fluidity of shadows on a windy day. It was a moving tale he told, one that could rival Varric's books. And it was all a lie, of that Edvard was certain.
Nuncio paused his speech to take a much needed breath and Edvard took the opportunity to move the conversation to a more practical matter.
“You want me to kill this guy, I get it.” He smiled and crossed his arms. “Alright, I can do that. But first, let's discuss my fees.”
While Edvard was working out the finer details of the job, his three companions were talking amongst themselves. At least, two of them were, while the third remained silent and sullen.
"Maker bless his heart, Hawke tries his best,” Varric was saying. “But he's a man with enemies, and some of them are even smart enough to take advantage of his kindness. You should talk to him about it, Broody."
Fenris mumbled something. His eyes seemed to be glued to Edvard's back.
"Surely Hawke realises the danger on his own," Sebastian chimed in. "I guess he just thinks the risk is worth it. A sentiment worthy of admiration, I think."
Varric opened his mouth, obviously intent on arguing, but at that moment Edvard finished his conversation with Nuncio and came back. He was smirking, obviously having negotiated a good price for his services.
"Our man is hiding out with the Dalish," he said. "We should go there immediately, before he gets wind that we're after him and bolts." He paused to look at each of them, holding his gaze on Fenris for longer than was needed. "Is everyone ready?"
"You know we are, Hawke." Varric grinned. “Same strategy as always? You and Broody up front, me and Choirboy shooting 'em from behind?”
“Why not? Hasn't failed us yet.” Edvard mirrored his grin, then glanced at Fenris again before turning around. “Let's go then. If luck is on our side, we'll be done with the fellow and be back at the Hanged Man for happy hour.”
They made their way to the nearest gate. The streets were as busy as ever, but the small group had no troubles passing through the crowds. Edvard's popularity, as well as his and his companions' habit of carrying their weapons in the open ensured that no one crossed them.
Varric hurried to walk besides Edvard.
"You know, Hawke," he spoke, his words separated by short pauses in which he tried to catch his breath. He often found it difficult to keep up with his taller friend's energetic strides. "The world won't end if you refuse to help once in a while. Besides, we have a city that's about to erupt in war - you are aware of that, are you not?"
"I am," Edvard replied. "But what would you have me do, Varric? As much as I want to lock Meredith and Orsino in a room until they figure out their differences, one way or another-"
“That would make for an interesting read,” Varric chuckled.
“-I can't exactly do that. Not that it would work, even if I could.” Edvard sighed. “So, I might as well look for other ways to keep busy, right.”
"It's a very righteous deed, I think," Sebastian said. "The Chantry tries to help those in trouble but sometimes these people's problems need … somewhat impious solutions."
"Yup, that's me,” Edvard said, laughing, “doing the dirty work the Maker is too holy to do himself."
He turned to Fenris and his smile faded. Fenris was walking slowly, his shoulders hunched and tense. He had a hand on the grip of his sword and was looking around with an expression that Edvard knew very well.
“What is it, Fenris?” Edvard asked quickly. His hands rushed to his daggers, itching to unsheathe them. “Slavers?”
“Maybe, I don't know,” Fenris replied. His eyes kept darting from side to side, quick like birds in flight. “Someone's watching us.”
Edvard looked around. The crowd was rushing past them. Most people were looking at him, having recognised him as the Champion of Kirkwall. But they are seemed benign and aside from a few salutations, no one stopped to talk – everyone was too occupied with their own life. The street they were on was one of the bigger ones in Kirkwall, it was an open street with few hiding spots. A pursuer would have a hard time remaining hidden here, yet Edvard could see nothing suspicious. Varric and Sebastian were looking as well, but to no avail.
Edvard's eyes roamed over the buildings around them. Nothing seemed amiss, and he was almost tempted to declare it aloud. Yet he knew that Fenris's instincts were faultless. If he was saying someone was watching them, then that was the truth. His gaze passed a dye workshop, then quickly went back.
There was a large barrel near the entrance that was used to store rainwater. A young man was sitting on top of it. He had one slim long leg hanging down and was lazily dragging his foot on along the dusty ground. His other leg was pressed against his chest and the man was resting his chin on his knee. When he saw that he had Edvard's attention, he smiled and waved at him.
“I was hoping I could talk with you, Champion,” the stranger said once Edvard and the others approached him. He was Fereldan, Edvard realised. “I saw you speaking with that man. Nuncio, I mean.”
“And what's that got to do with you?” Edvard asked, his voice firm but still jovial. He heard a familiar noise behind him – Varric had dismounted Bianca from her harness.
“Nuncio is of no interest to me,” the stranger said, shrugging. “As you have undoubtedly noticed, he is a vermin in human form. Yet, you have made an agreement with him and that is, I am afraid, something I cannot allow. I must implore you to break your word.”
“Oh? You must?” Edvard raised an eyebrow. The man was wearing tight-fitting and rather revealing clothes, and besides the small dagger on his belt, he didn't appear to be carrying other weapons. However, this did not mean he was harmless. He could be a mage. “Again, what does my business got to do with you?”
The stranger jumped from the barrel, landing lightly on his feet. He tossed his head to get his hair out of his eyes. He had red hair too, only his was much lighter than Edvard's. It was more the colour of honey than rust.
“Do you know what a promise is, Champion?”
“I …” Edvard was confused. This was one of those questions where the answer was suspiciously obvious. “... yes?”
“Then you must know that once a promise is made, it has to be kept.” The man crossed his arms. “The man who Nuncio wants dead is very dear to me. I made a promise to him, many years ago, that I would keep him safe. And so, I must once again implore you to forsake your deal with Nuncio.”
“Look, Nuncio sent me to kill a dangerous criminal.”
“I cannot deny that there is a lot that my light needs to seek forgiveness for.” The man shrugged. “But he's not the monster Nuncio claims he is. If there is a monster here, it's Nuncio himself.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured the man was a scoundrel,” Edvard said, nodding. “And not one of those noble scoundrels with a heart of gold either. One could even say he's a total piece of shit who spouts nothing but lies.”
The man threw his head back and laughed. The sun caught his face, illuminating his freckles and his delicate features. He had a beautiful face, and a pleasant laugh.
“So why would you agree to help such a man?”
“It's easy,” Edvard replied. “He offered me money.”
“I can offer you more.” The stranger tilted his head to the side and smiled. “So, will you help me instead?”
“I don't know yet. Nothing personal, one just can never be too sure, you know?” Edvard smirked. “But I think that I would like to meet your man before I decide his fate. You can come along.”
“I suppose I should be glad for that, at least.” The young man shrugged. “I will come with you. I can lead you to where Zevran is hiding. It's in a cave near the Dalish camp. I … I've already been there, but I was warned against going in. The Dalish, they told me that there's a creature in the cave and … it doesn't allow humans in. I have no intention of harming it or disrespecting the Dalish, but still ...” He sighed and shook his head. “I am not a fighter; I cannot reach Zevran on my own.”
“Well.” Edvard smiled. “That's what I'm here for.”
They stopped at the Dalish camp to get some provisions. The young man, who'd introduced himself as Katoss, bought some food, as well as a bar of soap and a skin of wine – for his love, he'd explained. He'd paid more than the items were actually worth, it seemed that money was no issue to him. Despite his attractive face, he didn't appear to be a noble, and when Edvard asked him, Katoss said that his parents were simple Fereldan peasants.
“Dirtier and lower than earthworms,” he said cheerfully. “They go to bed when it's dark, wake up when it's dark, and despite working more hours than there are in the day, they still found it impossible to feed all their children. That's why they sold me off to the Pearl in Denerim.”
“The Pearl?” Edvard repeated. “I think I've heard of this place. Wasn't it …?”
“A brothel, yes.” Katoss nodded. “I used to work there, as a whore. Oh, you needn't look so shocked about it! I am not ashamed of what I used to be and what I had to do. It wasn't a bad life, really.”
Edvard nodded slowly. The revelation was unexpected, but it also explained a lot about his new acquaintance. He thought that with his pretty face and flexible limbs, Katoss must have been quite popular at the Pearl.
“But that life is done now, I'm guessing,” Edvard said.
“Yes, I … retired when I met Zevran.” Katoss nodded. His expression suddenly became dreamy and he sighed. “He came into my life like … like a storm, and he swept me away. It was so romantic!”
“I bet it was.” Edvard smiled. “So … how come you two aren't together now? You keep on saying you promised to protect him, yet you're not by his side?”
“The answer is quite simple. You see,” Katoss smiled, “my Zevran made the same promise to me. He swore to keep me safe from all harm. Unfortunately, he and I both knew that I would be safest if I was away from him.”
“And you accepted that?”
Edvard could not imagine leaving Fenris to fend for himself. He knew that Fenris was more than capable of taking care of himself, but it was the principle that mattered. They weren't together, true, but Edvard had made a promise to himself and the current state of their relationship didn't change that. There was not a force in this world that could separate him from Fenris. He couldn't understand how Katoss had allowed his beloved to leave without him.
“My light can be very persuasive.” Katoss laughed. “And I, the fool, allowed him to twist my reason. You can't imagine how many nights I spent awake, berating myself for this. And be sure that once the danger has passed, I shall have a serious talk with him!”
Edvard looked to his side. Fenris was sitting on the ground and was sharpening his sword. He was scowling, as always, and ignoring everyone's attempts to talk to him. Edvard wondered if Fenris would speak of him in such a manner, with such love and devotion in his voice. Probably not.
The Dalish had been surprisingly cooperative with information about this Zevran. It seemed that, knowing he was a wanted man, he had decided to hide out in the Sundermount Caverns so that he wouldn't put the Dalish at risk. It was a surprisingly benevolent act from a supposed merciless killer.
As Katoss had warned them, a dangerous beast inhabited the caves – as did several dozen spiders. A few years ago, Edvard and his friends would have found the eight-legged creatures a fearsome and deadly opponent. But now, with the benefits of experience and training on their side, the battle was laughably short and easy.
The beast proved a harder foe. It was large, with long heavy limbs ending in deadly talons. Edvard and Fenris were soon covered in sweat and dust as they ran all over the place in an effort to avoid having their bellies sliced open. Sebastian and Varric were shooting from a distance, with Varric occasionally cursing as Edvard narrowly avoided being impaled.
Finally, the beast collapsed, raising a wall of dust as its body hit the ground. It gurgled and twitched in agony before perishing. Edvard watched it intently for a few seconds, to make sure the thing was really dead. Finally, he nodded slowly and sheathed his weapons.
“It's over!” He announced.
As soon as he said that, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a young elf – Zevran, Edvard hazarded a guess. He approached them, looking somewhat surprised, looking right at Katoss.
“My love?” He was confused, but then Katoss ran to him and jumped in his arms. Zevran's lips spread into a grin and his expression melted into one of pure joy. He embraced Katoss and laughed. “My love, my life, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think!” Katoss stepped back and took Zevran's face in his hands. “Darling, you couldn't have possibly thought I'd stay behind knowing the Crows are after you.”
“Well, perhaps my hopes were a little too high.” Zevran laughed. “But who do we have here? You brought friends, my love?”
“Something like that.” Katoss turned to Edvard and motioned him to come closer. “Nuncio is in Kirkwall; he hired them kill you.”
“Did he?” Zevran looked at Edvard with one eyebrow raised. “He sent the Champion of Kirkwall himself? I must say, I'm flattered.”
He smiled at Edvard. He was an attractive man, despite wearing the signs of someone who'd been living in a cave. He had dark blond hair, now covered in dust and cobwebs, copper-coloured eyes, and tanned skin which was covered in tattoos.
Something about Zevran felt oddly familiar to Edvard, but he couldn't really figure it out. He was certain they'd never met before, yet he still had that nagging feeling that this elf was not entirely a stranger to him.
“Had I not followed you, my light, you'd have found yourself in quite the peril,” Katoss told Zevran. “Nuncio had successfully convinced the Champion that the world would be a better place without you.”
“Is that so?” Zevran laughed. “So once again, you swoop in to rescue me, my beauty!” He turned to Edvard. “I wonder, what did he say this time? Hm? Wait, let me guess – he said I was a vicious murderer with not a shred of mercy? Or … did he tell you I had burned his family home, cooked and eaten his pet rabbit, and stolen his dead grandmother's special sweet roll recipe?”
“It was the killer bit.”
“How unoriginal.” Zevran rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nuncio has never been the creative sort. I'll have to send the Crows a complaint, and ask them to send someone with some imagination next time.”
“Why do the Crows want you dead anyway?” Varric asked. “Someone pay them to off you?”
“Not that I know of.” Zevran shrugged. “I suppose they want me dead because I've been causing trouble for them – by killing them off one by one.” He grinned at Edvard. “You're surprised to hear that, I see.”
“Impressed, actually.” Edvard crossed his arms with a smirk. “Not many would have the guts to take on the Crows. I'm sure there's quite the story behind it. Unfortunately, we don't have the time for stories. Nuncio and his men, I'm assuming their Crows? Well, this lovely group of assassins is currently sitting on the beach, expecting me to return with news that you're dead. Now, I don't plan on killing you, as it seems that, despite everything, you are an innocent man. In the most general sense, I mean.”
“How kind of you, Champion,” Zevran said with a purring voice.
“You two should leave, now.” Edvard looked at Zevran, then at Katoss. “I wait several hours before I go and meet with Nuncio, that should be enough for you to evade them, at least for a while. I'll tell Nuncio that Zevran left before I got to him, since I doubt he'd believe me that you're dead with no evidence.”
Katoss looked doubtful. He and Zevran exchanged glances, and Zevran slowly shook his head before turning back to Edvard.
“It is a good idea, but not one that will work,” he said. “It doesn't matter what news you bring him, Nuncio will kill you. Crows don't like loose ends.”
“Well, he'll have to learn to like them,” Edvard said, snickering. “Otherwise I'll send his head back to Antiva with a note for the Crows to send someone better next time.”
“Don't raise my hopes, Champion!” Zevran laughed, then bowed to Edvard. “Thank you, for all that you did for me and my Katoss. I hope one day our paths will cross again, so that I could have the opportunity to return the favour.”
Katoss thanked them too, with a voice as sweet as honey and a teasing wink. Then he and Zevran, their arms linked together, left. Edvard stared after them, deep in thought and scratching his chin. Varric stood beside him. He pushed his hands in his pockets and rolled back and forth on his heels.
„I think I can get a good book out of this,“ he said, then looked up at Edvard. “They're a good-looking pair, huh? What do you think, Hawke?”
“I think,” Edvard began slowly, “that despite all his talking of promises, Katoss didn't really fulfil his.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn't pay me.”