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Dear Garrett,
Stop worrying about me! I’m doing really well. I’ve been working with a group setting up networks to help mages adjust outside of the Circle. For so many of them, the Circle is all they ever knew. They don’t know how to live without it. We’re setting up safehavens, training them, helping to integrate into villages. I get recognized more than I ever thought I would - everyone asks if I couldn’t get you to sign their copy of The Tale of the Champion.
Please tell Carver thank you SO much for the drawing. It was so beautiful! I keep it with me always, and show it off whenever I can. Please give him a big hug from me. I miss him so much.
There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I was hoping to do it in person. But since I really have no idea when I might see you next, I suppose a letter will have to do. I met someone. His name is Elliot, he’s another mage helping with the effort. I know it’s difficult for you to leave Kirkwall, but I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I’d really like for you to meet him. I want you to know that we’re very serious. I hope you’ll like him.
Let me know if you can get away anytime soon, and we’ll figure something out. Please give Carver and Anders my love, and remember that I miss you very much.
With love,
Bethany
Beyond the gates of the Winter Palace, Halamshiral was thriving. It felt much more like Kirkwall here, and Hawke kept having to grab his son by the collar to keep him from running off and exploring like he would at home. “Let’s be careful, alright?” he insisted. “You don’t know your way around. Stay close to me.”
Varric was much more successful than Hawke at this, stringing Carver along with stories about the Inquisition. Hawke listened halfheartedly as they wandered through the streets, past merchants hocking their wares and the scent of freshly-cooked food wafting out of doorways. There were more elves than Hawke had ever seen in a big city; he wondered if Halamshiral had an alienage at all. As Carver shouted in delight and pressed his nose against the window of a sweet shop where two elves were expertly pulling taffy, Hawke glanced around at Varric.
“So what do you know about this Elliot fellow?” he asked. When Hawke wrote to Bethany offering to meet her at Halamshiral for the Exalted Council, she excitedly agreed to bring Elliot with her so that the two of them could meet.
“Even less than you do, Chuckles,” Varric sighed. “She might’ve mentioned him in passing, but no name. He seems nice,” Varric added. “She seems happy, at least.”
“Hm,” said Hawke, and then he gently tugged Carver away from the window. “Come on,” he said. “Not ‘til after supper, alright?”
When finally they made it to the tavern where they were to meet Bethany, Hawke was surprised to find it rather out of the way: the College of Magi had not made themselves scarce in Halamshiral, openly carrying their staves and finding accommodations in the ritziest neighborhoods they could. Maybe Bethany just preferred something smaller, closer to home. (Maybe she was low on funds. He made a mental note to leave her with some coin.)
Inside the tavern was mostly empty. Carver saw her first: he shouted, “Auntie Bethy!” and ran across the room to throw his arms around her waist. She grinned up at Hawke, then ran her fingers through Carver’s curls.
“Hello, Carver,” she said, kneeling down before him. “It’s really good to see you, I’ve missed you so much.” He babbled back at her excitedly, telling her all about their journey from Kirkwall and the staff he left at home and little Cal whom he’d met at the palace.
Her hair was longer, pulled back into a loose braid. Despite himself Hawke felt a growing lump in his throat, almost surprised at the sudden rush of relief he felt to see her again. She looked well, healthy and happy.
She greeted Varric with a hug and then turned to Hawke, throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. “Good,” she said, slightly flushed. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it, I heard travel’s backed up across the Dales.”
“We took a ship into Jader,” he said, quietly. “Traveled along the coast.”
“Oh, good.” She smiled, finally releasing him. “Anders is alright without you?”
“He had to stay for the clinic,” he explained, as they all took a seat around a corner table.
“I heard he opened a new location,” said Bethany, leaning in, “in Lowtown. Is that right?”
Hawke nodded. “He’s trying to get more elves to come in. There was a bout of nugpox which went straight through the kids from the alienage, Merrill was working on them for days. But the parents can be a little hesitant.”
Bethany leaned her chin on her palm. “I sometimes wish I were there,” she sighed. “It’s so easy to see the difference you’re making in the clinic. People come in, you fix their problem, and you leave. Trying to get mages set up outside of the Circle is…complicated.”
Varric asked, “People not adjusting very well?”
“No, they’re not. So many mages are used to having someone else take care of them, they really don’t know what to do on their own. Not to mention that most of them hardly remember what it’s like to communicate with someone outside the Circle. It’s little things,” she said. “Conjuring light with magic is so second-nature to them, but it frightens outsiders. And the number of mages who are shocked when they find out not everyone can read…” she shook her head. “It doesn’t come off well to the local villagers.”
“Got any good news?” asked Hawke, as Carver sat on his knees between the two of them.
“Plenty,” answered Bethany, with a smile. “Honestly, it’s not that bad. More often than not people want to help. And every little village wants a mage healer, so I’ve been teaching the basics to everyone I can. There are all kinds of families now,” she added. “People who choose to stay together. Older mages taking care of the younger ones like children.” She wrapped her arms around Carver, kissing him on the forehead as he squirmed and giggled. “We were just ahead of the trend.”
Varric said, “Bet there’s lots of little magelets running around now, shooting lightning everywhere.”
“So many you wouldn’t believe. That’s how I met Elliot, actually,” she said. Her earnesty was tinged with caution, her eyes on her brother’s face. “He was helping with a few of the pregnant women. He’s got three sisters, see,” she explained, “and delivered each of their babies. He’s developed this remarkable method, he’s saved at least a dozen lives with it.”
“Damn,” said Varric, impressed. “Well, where is this dream guy, Sunshine?”
She blushed slightly. “He’s been out all evening, he’s trying to track down some kind of rare drink or something.” To Hawke, she said, “He said he didn’t want to meet you empty-handed.”
“That’s nice of him,” said Hawke, as the barmaid brought them all ale, and warm milk for Carver. “Should I have brought something for him?”
“Oh, no,” Bethany assured him. “He just really wants you to like him.”
A slight frown creased Hawke’s brow and he began to ask, “Is there a reason why I wouldn’t like him?” but Bethany interrupted him, her face lighting up as she got to her feet, waving at the door. She beamed at whoever had just entered, radiant.
Hawke turned around a second after Varric, who laughed, “Oh, shit.”
Carver tried to climb onto the table, but Hawke didn’t notice. He stared, wide-eyed, at the full-blooded Qunari who entered the bar, returning Bethany’s grin with teeth framed in short fangs. He was easily seven feet tall, with gray skin like stone. His horns were short - stubby, really, emerging from his forehead to a thick point, tiny in comparison to the Qunari Hawke remembered from Kirkwall. His shoulders were enormous, and as he got closer Hawke noticed a gold piercing in his nose, through his septum, like a bull.
There was a staff strapped to his back, and in his hands he carried what appeared to be a small cask, until he got closer and Hawke realized it might as well be a full-on barrel, it just looked tiny in his oversized hands.
The Qunari attracted some stares in the tavern, but Bethany didn’t seem to notice. She leapt up to greet him, and he stooped over for a kiss before abruptly pulling away, and Hawke caught - was it even possible? - the slightest blush on his cheeks.
“Garrett,” said Bethany breathlessly, holding on to the Qunari by the arm. “This is Elliot. Elliot, this is my brother.”
“Elliot?” repeated Hawke, as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” said the man anxiously. “Bethany’s told me so much about you. Here,” he said, setting the cask on the table. “I called in a few favors and managed to track down some maraas-lok. It’s a Qunari delicacy, my mother brews it at home.”
“Your mother,” said Hawke, doubtfully once again.
“No shit?” asked Varric, eyeing the cask. “That’s the real stuff?”
“Oh, you must be Varric,” said Elliot warmly. “Thank you for letting us know you’d be in Halamshiral, it’s such a pleasure. Yes, it’s real,” he added, popping the cork with ease. “Would you like some?”
“Shit yeah,” said Varric, offering his cup. “You should have some, Hawke, finally put some hair on that chest.”
Hawke, who had chest hair to rival Varric’s and then some, couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended at the crack. “You’re Elliot?” he asked, still squinting up at the Qunari.
“Yes,” the man said, earnestly.
Now fully standing on the table, Carver put his hands on his hips. “Whoa,” he said, his neck craned to stare up at Elliot’s face. “You’re big.”
“Why, thank you,” laughed Elliot. “Now who might you be? Bethany said her little nephew would be here too, but I don’t see any little boys around here. You’re a big boy, aren’t you? Have you seen any little boys around here?”
Carver giggled. “I’m not as big as you are,” he pointed out.
“That is an excellent point, my friend,” said Elliot. He reached out to ruffle Carver’s curls, and the size of his hand in comparison to Carver’s little skull was so huge that Hawke felt his heart skip a beat. It took Varric rapping his knuckles for Hawke to realize he was gripping the side of the table. “I take it you’re Carver, then?”
“That’s me!”
Maybe Bethany noticed Hawke’s reaction; either way, she took a seat by Carver once more, Elliot on the other side of her.
“So,” gasped Varric, hoarse after his first sip of maraas-lok, “Elliot. Not a very Qunari name there, is it?”
“No, but I’m not technically Qunari, depending on who’s asking. I was born outside the Qun, my parents left before I was born,” he said, and then he added, “Oh, I almost forgot,” and produced a small wrapped candy from his bag. He held it across Bethany, to Carver. “Something for you too, Carver, since you’re a little too young for the maraas-lok.”
Delighted, Carver grasped at the candy, but Hawke leaned it over and took it out of Elliot’s hand. “After supper,” he said to Carver, setting it aside.
“Oh,” said Elliot, his face falling slightly. “Sorry.”
Hawke shook his head. “It’s all right.”
“Anyway,” continued Elliot, though with less confidence than before. “My parents settled outside of Denerim, we have a farm out that way. They were eager to leave the Qun behind, so my sisters and I all got proper Ferelden names.”
“And you’re a mage,” said Varric.
“I am.”
“Lucky your parents got out, huh?”
“Very lucky,” he agreed. “Before all this I was working with one of my sisters, she runs an operation up north. Funneling people out of the Qun.”
“Nice,” said Varric, nodding. He nudged Hawke. “He seems nice.”
Carver slapped his palms onto the tabletop. “Can I touch your horns!”
Hawke began to say, “Carver, don’t be rude,” but Elliot interrupted him. “No no,” he said, holding up a hand. “I really don’t mind. Sure, of course you can.” And Carver clambered across Bethany’s lap, standing up on the bench to put his hands all over Elliot’s stubby horns.
“I’m a mage too,” said Carver, matter-of-factly. “Is that your staff? I have one too. Well, it’s not a real staff, but my papa says I’ll get a real one when I’m old enough.”
Bethany’s eyes were still on her brother, her expression worried. He offered her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “So,” he said, with some effort. “Elliot. I take it you were never in a Circle?”
“Never,” said Elliot, leaning out from behind Carver. “We kept to ourselves and worked the farm mostly, never had any trouble with templars. We were very lucky.”
“Are you a healer?”
Elliot glanced knowingly at Bethany as she finally succeeded in peeling Carver off of him. “Not by trade, no,” he admitted. “But I’ve got four nieces and three nephews, so I have some experience delivering babies.”
“My, ah,” he looked at Carver and said, “Carver’s father is a healer. His other father. I’m sure he’d be interested to know about this new technique Bethany told me about.”
Elliot made a face. To Bethany, he murmured, “You told him about that?”
“I didn’t tell him,” said Bethany innocently. “I might’ve mentioned it. But go on,” she urged him, taking his arm. “Tell him. It’s really interesting.”
“Well,” sighed Elliot, turning back to Hawke. Varric handed him a mug of the maraas-lok, which he immediately sipped, though it burned bad going down. “Some Qunari infants are born with their first set of horns already emerging. Usually they fall off within the first few years as the adult horns begin to grow in, but it can make childbirth a tricky process. Sometimes under the Qun they cut the mother’s stomach open to remove the baby from her womb.” At the face both Hawke and Varric made, Elliot groaned, “Bethany, it’s not exactly polite conversation-”
“Tell me Anders wouldn’t be interested,” said Bethany, pointing at her brother.
“That doesn’t kill the mother?” asked Varric, skeptically.
“Under the Qun, yes,” said Elliot. “But with magic, it can be done safely. And it’s useful in all sorts of cases,” he added, “not just for horned infants. For women who don’t progress during labor, or to relieve pressure on the mother’s heart before the baby’s due, or if the baby’s presenting breech.” He continued, “Breech is when the baby is-”
“I know what it means,” said Hawke, but he smiled to indicate no offense. “Carver was born breech.”
“I was?” asked Carver, his eyes wide.
Elliot’s expression transmuted to one of surprise. “You were?” he asked Carver, who looked back at him curiously. “That’s impressive, Carver.”
“Anders delivered him,” Bethany said, with no small amount of pride.
“What does it mean?” asked Carver, scrambling into Bethany’s lap again.
“Breech means that when you came out of your mother, you were born with your feet out first.” He took hold of one of Carver’s feet, shaking it. “Most babies are born head-first, but you were special. It can be very difficult for the mother and the baby too when you’re born that way.”
“Oh,” said Carver. He turned to Hawke and asked, “Is that why Poppy died when I was born?” Hawke nodded. Turning back to Elliot, Carver said matter-of-factly, “My mother was named Poppy and she died when I was born. And my father died before I was born actually. That’s why Papa and Hawke took care of me.”
“Me too,” said Bethany, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly. “I took care of you too when you were a little baby, remember?”
He laughed, wiggling in Bethany’s arms so that he could hook his arms around her neck. Elliot seemed confused, his eyebrows raised in surprise. But he took this in stride. “Hey, Carver,” he said, gently. “My sister has two girls about your age. Twins. I think you’d get along with them great, what do you think?”
Carver seemed suspicious. “Are they nice?”
“Really nice,” said Elliot. “But they’re identical, so it’s hard to tell them apart. You seem pretty smart, though, I’m sure you could figure it out.”
“Twins?” asked Hawke. Across from him, Bethany held Carver so tight he sank into her lap, laying his head on her shoulder. She was looking at Hawke, not Elliot, so she missed it when he turned his head to look at her. His expression was so gentle it almost broke Hawke’s heart.
“It runs in the family,” said Elliot.
“Us too,” said Hawke.
Varric poured himself more maraas-lok, though he was already swaying a bit in his seat. He chuckled. “Well, then,” he said. “One thing’s for sure. Horned Qunari twins? You better not get knocked up, Sunshine, or Anders and your boyfriend here will have to open you up and pull ‘em out themselves.”
There was a beat of silence. Elliot froze. Bethany avoided Hawke’s gaze.
Dread dropped into Hawke’s stomach like a brick.
“Oh, shit,” said Varric.
Varric borrowed one of Leliana’s Chantry ravens to send a letter to Kirkwall, and received a response a few days later addressed to Bethany. Furious, she told her brother, “You tell him where he can stick his friendly advice,” while Elliot tried to calm her down. “He’s just trying to look out for you,” he assured her. “He’s worried about you.”
She ripped up the letter, as well as the packet of tea Anders had sent with it, brewed to induce bleeding and end a pregnancy. Varric returned to the Winter Palace for the Exalted Council, but Hawke decided to stay with Bethany in the tavern at the edge of town. “I want a baby,” said Bethany, miserably, as Elliot kicked a ball around with Carver in the alley behind the tavern. She and Hawke watched from a tavern window. “I love him, Garrett. I want to have a family with him. Surely you can understand that.”
“Of course I do,” sighed Hawke. “Look, I have nothing against that. But be realistic here. He’s two feet taller than you and twice as wide. With pointy horns.”
“Anders is taller than you, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but I don’t have to worry about pushing an oversized mage baby out of me. One with pointy horns.”
“I know you don’t have much experience with this,” she sighed, sticking her nose up in the air, “but women are designed for childbirth, you know.”
“Pointy horns,” said Hawke, again.
“It’ll be fine,” insisted Bethany. “My body was made for this.”
“Not for this,” said Hawke, shaking his head. “Not for seven-foot-tall horned giants. Nobody’s body is made for that. Ugh,” he groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “Now I’m thinking about it. Maker’s breath, Bethany, how does he not crush you?”
Bethany reached out and slapped him upside the head, though her cheeks had gone pink. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain the concept of being on top to you .”
Hawke groaned again, louder. Then he added: “I’m telling Anders you said that.”
She laughed. And then she looked back out the window, at Elliot kneeling down, showing Carver how to bounce a ball between his foot and his knee. For a moment neither of them said anything, watching Carver laugh delightedly along with Elliot’s encouragement.
Hawke glanced at his sister. She watched Elliot and the baby with a small smile on her face, her chin resting on her hand, almost wistful. He thought back to the years she spent on the road with him and Anders. How she had held Carver when he was a newborn, crying and squalling for a mother he would never know. She sang songs to him at night sometimes, Hawke would hear her across the fire. He had always known that she loved Carver. She had once lamented that Hawke somehow managed to get a baby first, because she would’ve liked to name her own son after their brother.
“Bethany,” said Hawke.
She glanced at him, finally tearing her gaze away from Carver and Elliot. “Hm?”
“Congratulations,” he told her.
Her face split into a smile. She leaned over, and threw her arms around his shoulders. Squeezing him tightly, she mumbled, “Thanks, Garrett,” into his shoulder. “I’m really happy. I want you to know that.”
He held her tightly. When it was all said and done, Varric headed back to Kirkwall with Hawke and Carver. Bethany and Elliot promised they would be there in a few months, once Bethany’s pregnancy started slowing her down. Carver screamed in laughter as Bethany tickled him in farewell, and he chewed excitedly on the piece of candy Elliot had given him as they headed to catch a ship across the Waking Sea.
Varric was there, as Hawke leaned over the ship’s rail, peering out into the blue water. “She’ll be OK,” he said, glancing sidelong at Hawke. “She’s in good hands. And not for nothing, but she’s a pretty tough little nut. Always has been.”
Hawke’s two nieces were born in the winter, and the bleeding was so intense that Anders had to tell Elliot to back up and stop arguing with him, and with both babies, he removed also the womb that held them. It was necessary to save her life. Elliot sobbed with grief as he held his daughters, refusing to leave Bethany’s side until she woke once more. Anders explained what he had done, calmly and with precise, clinical detail.
“Two is all right,” Bethany told Elliot encouragingly, nursing one of the babies. “My family had rather bad luck with three,” which caused him to burst into tears, again.
The girls resembled their father more than their mother, except there were no horns to speak of. Over their first year of life Hawke often found himself running his hands over their heads, feeling the soft spot where their skulls were still forming, and finding no evidence of a burgeoning horn. He introduced Carver to them as his cousins, and he laughed with delight the first time he got to hold one of them in his lap. Aveline once wondered aloud if they might not be the first half-human children of Qunari who were ever born. “Or whose mother survived,” added Merrill kindly, with a nod towards Bethany.
“Only girls,” Bethany said to her brother, one night after Elliot had already fallen asleep, both babies laid out on his chest. She gave Hawke a sheepish smile. “Couldn’t have named one of them Carver even if I wanted to. It’s a good thing, then, that you got to it first.”
Hawke made a face. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of Leandra.”
Bethany giggled. “I was thinking something from Qunlat,” she told him, her gaze settling on Elliot, dozing with the girls. “It’s his family’s native tongue, but he hardly ever uses it. He says it was dangerous to speak it, growing up.”
“I can see why he’s called Elliot, then.”
“He has a Qunlat name, too,” Bethany added. “A secret, special name. Isn’t that wonderful?” She laughed, and then she added, “It’s a bit like you. Well, everyone knows your name, but I feel like I’m the only one who ever actually uses it.”
Anders poked his head into the room. “Hawke,” he said. “Would you come tuck Carver in for bedtime?”
“Case in point,” said Bethany.
Grinning, Hawke got to his feet. “Look at us,” he said. “Mother and Father would be proud, don’t you think?”
Bethany nodded her head, offering him a gentle smile. “Carver, too.”
“He’d be an absolute nightmare if he found out I named a kid after him.”
She giggled. “He’d love it. He loved you,” she said. “I still miss him. After all these years. Don’t you?”
Hawke leaned down, and he kissed her on the forehead. “Every day,” he told her, quietly. “Get some rest. You can figure out the girls’ names in the morning. Maker knows it took Anders and I the better part of a year, and we were a lot less creative than you about it."
And he followed Anders out of the room, the sound of his sister’s laughter in his ears.