Work Text:
9:42 Dragon, Kirkwall
STRIKE.
Singing…
STRIKE.
Calling…
STRIKE.
Singing...
“Carver.”
STRIKE.
Calling...
STRIKE.
Singing...
“Carver!”
He reeled back as she inserted herself between the hammer and the nail he was striking at.
“Flaming nug on a skewer! Bethy, are you out of your mind?!”
“You weren’t listening,” she shrugged, nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just almost bash his own twin’s head in with a hammer.
“I could’ve hit you!”
“Well, pay attention next time, and I wouldn’t have to risk my life! Besides,” she said, looking at the nail he’d been hitting, “I think you got it.”
Calling…
“What do you want?” he asked, annoyed, putting the hammer down and wiping at his forehead. It was high summer in Kirkwall, and at this time of day, the sun had no mercy for the people doing the much-needed repairs. She passed him a skin of water.
“What are you listening to?”
“You! I don’t have much choice in the matter!”
Singing…
“Not me, before. You keep listening to something, don’t pretend that you don’t!”
“Bethy… As much fun as these circular arguments are, can we do it later? If we push through, we can finish this today,” he said, indicating the building behind her. It was one of the last buildings in the Alienage that needed repair. Finally, five years after the explosion, the end of the reparations was in sight. Though people had adjusted and found a way to live around the destruction, Merrill didn’t think the people would really be able to move on while they were reminded of the tragedy every day. While the open wounds of the city were still bare to them. She had a point. So, he was helping.
Calling…
Even though he regretted being here.
Even though he wished he had never made the promise to come.
Singing…
“I need to go to Darktown, would you like to come with?”
“No, I won’t.”
Calling…
She shrugged as if it made no difference to her in the least. “Have it your way,” she said as she turned around and started walking away.
“Bethy— Does it have to be now?” he yelled after her. She just waved as she walked off, knowing he would follow. Of course he would follow! He couldn’t let his sister go to Darktown alone, it was madness! And she knew it too. He didn’t want to think about who went with her when he wasn’t around.
Singing…
Kernus was already shaking his head before he walked up to him. “Sisters, huh?” he offered in sympathy, causing his own sister to throw a nail at him, which he laughingly ducked.
Calling…
Carver caught up to Bethy as she waited for the lift that would go to Darktown. “You know, everything doesn’t evolve around your schedule!” he groused.
“What are you hearing?” she asked as she entered the lift.
“As always, you complaining!”
Singing…
She merely looked at him, eyebrows raised. He merely looked back.
How did you explain it? How did you explain that there was a melody in your head, a melody without words, without even a clear rhythm, just beating, singing, calling, enticing, seducing, ravenous... A song he couldn’t ignore, a song he couldn’t get away from.
At first, when he and his team entered the deep roads, it was soft, far away, easy to ignore. Also scary as fuck. He’d only been a warden for ten years, and there was no Blight to speed up the Calling. How could he be hearing it? He had thought that was it, that the respite he had won from dying had run out, and he tried to ignore it. Until he saw Jenna’s usually calm hands shake, and realised Gideon was volunteering to stand guard every shift. So, he did the one thing no one did. He talked about the Calling, his Calling, only to have his suspicions confirmed and find out it was all of their Calling. And as far as they all knew, it had never happened that way.
Feeling a bit better since they weren’t isolated in their panic anymore, it was easier to ignore, easier to get the job done. Easier to ignore the song, and leave it to their fellow wardens in the west to deal with.
At first.
But every day it became a little louder, a little more insistent until Gideon started talking about following the Call, just to see where it came from. Just to see if help was needed. And as time passed, and the song became more insistent, they all started agreeing, all started to look forward to go. To see. To participate. To either make it stop, or… what?
Calling…
What did they find? He wondered for the millionth time. Had they arrived there already? Were they closer to the answers? And for the millionth time, he cursed himself for ever promising Bethy he’d come to visit. Their mission had been so close to the city, and there had been no reason to deny her a quick reunion. Until the song had started, and all he’d wanted was to go west. Go west and find out! But he’d never broken a promise to her before.
Singing…
Not one he had any control over. So here he was. For how much longer?
Calling…
The lift came to a shaky halt.
Singing…
The doors rattled open.
“Keagan from the Alienage said he met a couple of wardens on the Wounded Coast. I should probably join them, make the travelling easier,” he almost blurted out, eager to find a reason to go, yet not knowing how to present it.
She kept her face carefully blank. “You would leave us so soon? You’ve barely been here a week.”
Calling…
“I’m a warden, Bethy, you know that. I’m supposed to go where I’m needed.”
“You’re sorry you came. That you didn’t leave with your team.” It wasn’t a question.
Singing…
He felt remorse at her words, the way she wouldn’t make eye contact, pulling at his heart. The song was pulling harder.
Calling…
“Of course not. It’s always good to see you.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
Things had been so easy between them once. There had been a time when he could tell what she was thinking without her needing to say it. There was a time when she knew exactly what to say to get him out of whatever mood had him in its grip. It had been a long time ago. Before the Wardens, and before the Circle. Before Mother…
With a start, he realised they had arrived at Anders’ old clinic, a few people hanging around inside. Lirene was there, having taken over the space when her own shop was destroyed in the explosion. The irony was lost on no one.
Singing…
“Bethany!” she exclaimed gratefully, pushing Bethy to the back of the clinic before she could even greet her. “I’m glad you came, Clarissa is in labour, it’s not going well.”
“Clarissa! But the baby’s not due for another month!”
Calling…
He didn’t follow them.
Singing…
“You just keep it bandaged up, don’t remove it until tomorrow, the elfroot should have done its work by then,” a voice said to the left of the clinic. A voice that made his heart skip a beat and his feet automatically wander in that direction.
She was sitting on her haunches, addressing a small boy who was sitting on the cot in front of her, tears shimmering in his eyes, while an older girl stood next to him. They were both dressed in ragged clothes, way too thin and very dirty. Urchins from the Undercity.
Calling…
“Thank you, Mistress,” the older girl said, dragging the boy out of the clinic behind her. Merrill looked after them with a frown.
He knew how much she wanted to help them, knew how it bothered her that there were still kids living in Darktown without anyone looking after them. She had petitioned the city to start an orphanage four times that he knew of, but the answer was always the same: “We’ll look into it.”
Singing…
Looking after them, she sighed before she got up and went to the clinic’s backroom where the potions were kept.
Calling…
They had made no promises. But it didn’t mean he didn’t feel the words in his mouth every time he was with her, that he didn’t taste them on his tongue. In another life, he would’ve said everything to her that he wanted to, have made all the promises he wanted to. He would’ve fought for her tooth and nail, and no one would ever doubt that she was his and—more than anything—that he was hers. As he was in this life. But he could not tell her that, could not be that cruel.
Singing…
Because in this life, he was a warden with nothing to offer but early widowhood and a barren life.
Calling…
He shook his head, now that no one was watching him, and tried to physically dislodge the madness within his head.
Singing…
It was insatiable, and for a moment, he didn’t know what consumed him more, the song in his head or his regrets. He didn’t regret being a warden, it was one of the noblest callings there was. They were heroes, legends, and by some miracle, he had been deemed worthy to be one of them. But sometimes… Sometimes he remembered how this decision came to be. That it had been made for him. And then he wondered. If the choice had been Merrill or the Wardens… What would his answer have been?
Calling…
Maker, if this song could just relent for one moment, if it could just give him leave to think! No one else was paying any attention, and there had only been one thing, one person, with the ability to divide his attention, even for a split second, to draw his attention away from the incessant melody. One person currently alone in a backroom, more enticing even than his fate…
Singing...
So, he followed her, selfishly praying that she would be able to hold the attention he should not be giving her.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Calling…
Carver tried to turn around without waking Merrill, who was fast asleep next to him. The room was bathed in moonlight since both of them preferred to sleep with the curtains and the windows wide open. He spent so much time in the deep roads that he relished the light and the open air when he could get it, and Merrill just liked light.
Singing…
It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark, or even shied away from it, but she was drawn to light like a moth to a flame. Maybe because, in his opinion, she was made of light. Even now, even after all she’d been through, she was radiant, shining with an inner strength few could emulate.
He couldn’t understand how that was not the first thing people saw about her, that they didn’t all fall at her feet enthralled. Instead of getting to know the woman she was, they chose to label. Like they labelled everything. How much better would the world be if people just stopped trying to label everything for once?
Calling…
He left the room with a sigh, making his way to the kitchen in search of… what? What could he possibly find there that would stop the song reverberating in his head. To think there was a time he had thought it beautiful. It was still beautiful, but now it hurt. It was a glorious agony, beauty created to wound, to maim, the ensnare… Like a rose encased by thorns, or a glowing flame that brought light as well as burning. It had no lyrics, only a melody that was impossible to pinpoint.
He needed to leave, to go west.
Singing…
He should never have come here, he should have gotten on the ship with them, he should have went to see the beautiful creature that could spin so intoxicating a song. But he had promised Bethy. And where had that loyalty, that misguided promise, gotten him? Stuck in Kirkwall. Of all places.
Calling…
But why was he fighting? He had honoured his promise, he had come home and saw Bethy, and he could go. He could just find a ship and go, and look for wardens to join on his way there. Maybe he could even catch up with Mar. Bethy said she had left with Warden Alistair, that she had gone to Skyhold on Warden business herself.
If he could find them, find Alistair… Maker, the questions he had to ask him! The things he wanted to know. He was a hero of the Fifth Blight, a companion to Kallian Tabris herself, of course he had questions to ask!
Singing…
Chief among them: what does he make of this song?
Calling…
Andraste’s tears, but this house was so big! So empty. How did Mar stand to live here all alone with all this space? Their family home. Home to one. Since Bethy had elected to stay in the Circle and he couldn’t stay. Not for the first time he wondered if the lonely, echoing rooms were a contributing factor to his sister’s mental state.
Singing…
“Carver?” she had entered the library behind him, moving almost as silently as a rogue.
Calling…
“Do you think living here alone is part of what makes Mar so crazy?”
She chuckled at that. “Mar’s not crazy, just… quirky.”
“Quirky!” he exclaimed as she came closer and stepped into his arms. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maker, but she was beautiful… “You are quirky!’ He quipped, nuzzling her neck. “Mar is just crazy.”
“You think I’m quirky?” she asked, pulling back, her eyes roaming his face.
“You eat your dessert before the main meal.”
“That’s not quirky, that’s just common sense!”
“Even when we’re at a banquet in the Keep itself, on behalf of the crazy Champion.”
“You know, your sister is a big part of the work we’ve been able to do in the Alienage. There are not many people in the city who wish to be seen disagreeing with the Champion. At least not among those with the money we need. Her name has gotten us a lot of donations.”
“And how many of those does she know of?” he teased.
“Oh,” Merrill waved it away, “she doesn’t mind. She said since she has no use for the title herself, I’m welcome to use it as I see fit.”
“You know, I can just imagine Mar minding someone else’s business when some random noble suddenly walks up to her and starts asking about their investment.”
“Oh, it happens. She’s good at fibbing. And she always tells the Hightown nobles they should go down to the lower parts of town and see for themselves, but they never come. Even though she’s so charming about it!”
“My sister charming?!”
“Oh, yes,” she said sincerely. “All the Hawkes are exceedingly charming.”
He kissed her to drive home her point.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” she asked when he allowed her room to breathe again.
“I’m helping Isabela to ready her ship.”
“Oh no, did you lose at Wicked Grace again? Or was it Diamondback this time?”
“Diamondback, and what do you mean, again? I’ll have you know I win my fair share of games!”
“Against Isabela?”
He considered this. “Point taken. What are your plans?”
“Oh, tomorrow? I’m starting a school.”
He wouldn’t have been able to stop the rush of affection even if he tried. Walking backwards, he sat down on one of the lounges, pulling her after him so that she ended up straddling him.
“Tell me all about it,” he said, gently tucking her hair behind her sensitive ears.
“Maybe in a second,” she smiled, leaning forward to claim his lips once more.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Singing…
He had to go, he couldn’t bear it. He also couldn’t bear the way they looked at him, looked at each other when they thought he didn’t see.
Calling…
He knew he was worrying them, he didn’t want to, but it was all he could do to have a normal conversation.
“Carver?”
Singing…
He was trying, but this was too important. He had to go, had to see.
Calling…
“Could you pass the bread, please?”
Singing…
“And there are so many people who already said they’re interested! Not even just kids, adults too!”
Calling…
“What do they want to learn?”
Singing…
“The adults? To read, mostly. It’s shocking how many people never learned.”
Calling…
“Carver, the bread?”
Singing…
“Are you going to ask the city for a building?”
Calling…
“If they can’t even give space for an orphanage, the chances of a school are non-existent. But at least that we could do anywhere, maybe even beneath the vhenadahl, that would be nice.”
Singing…
“Carver! The bread! It’s to your left! But Merrill, you will need somewhere quiet, where you can keep stationery and books. With enough space to fit everyone when the weather is bad. It’s not the mountains, but the winters can get quite unpleasant.”
Calling…
“Oh, I haven’t thought of that!”
Si—
“Carver!” Bethy slammed her head on the table, exasperated. “Don’t tell me you’re not listening to something, you don’t even know we’re h— What’s wrong? Why do you look like that?”
“It’s… gone!”
He looked at their confused faces. And all he could hear was silence.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
“I don’t believe it!” he said once again as he read the letter over his twin’s shoulder. They had been waiting for news, for an explanation, but, if possible, the letter that had arrived from Varric—by raven no less—had brought only more questions. Tales of the Inquisition, and demons, and Warden-Commander Clarel, tales to fantastic to believe! Yet… the song was gone.
“Ouw!” he exclaimed as his sister punched him in the arm. “What was that for?”
“You were hearing it, this Calling, that Varric’s talking about, and you didn’t tell us?! We asked you! How many times did we ask you? And you just kept denying it!”
“Bethy…”
“No, Carver! Do you truly care so little for us that you wouldn’t share something this… this… Ugh!” she exclaimed, frustrated, before she left the house, slamming the door behind her.
“She’s not wrong, you know,” Merrill said, watching him quietly. “Why would you carry something like that by yourself? Anders told us about the Calling. I know what it means.”
He gave a step towards her. She gave a step backwards.
“You thought you were going to die. You thought your time had come, and you wouldn’t share it with us.”
“I’m—” He didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wrong. But how do you explain it? How do you explain something you are not supposed to talk about in the first place with someone who is not a warden?
He was proud to be in the Order. Proud to be part of an organisation that had saved Thedas so many more times than anybody knew. He did his duty, and he did it gladly, relishing killing the darkspawn that he hated more than anything.
But he would be lying if he said the Calling didn’t weigh heavily on his mind. A horrible fate he had no chance of avoiding. A horrible, dark fate he couldn’t discuss with Merrill, who was light, and his twin, that was sunshine. It belonged to the dark life they were not part of. His life. His real life.
She sighed and took the step back, bringing her close to him again. “What will you do now?” she asked.
He lifted his hand holding his own letter, looked at it while he shrugged.
“They told me to wait. They said until command has been re-established, we’re all just supposed to wait.”
A smile broke over her face, bathing him in her light. “So, you’ll be here a while longer?”
“Yes,” he couldn’t help smiling back. “It seems that I will.” It earned him a kiss.
“I’ve been thinking about your school. I think you should run it from here. In the estate.”
“Here!? Are you sure? Mar—”
“I think Mar has had sole use of the family estate for long enough.”
“But—”
“I also don’t think that she would mind the chance to vex the neighbours with the comings and goings of your students.”
“Oh!” she said, grinning. “If we can’t get the nobility to come to the low parts of town, we’ll just bring it to them!”
“My thoughts exactly!” he said, pulling her towards him and holding her close.
Listening with all his heart to the blessed silence.