Chapter Text
The boat swayed and each swell made him feel ill. He'd spent the better part of their journey hanging over the railings of the boat and retching into the water. The sooner they landed in Kirkwall, the happier he would be. Carved had decided that if he never stepped foot on another boat in his life then it would be far too soon.
Still, given the choice between dying at the end of a Darkspawn's blade or being seasick, he'd take the sickness a hundred times over. At least that way he knew he was still alive. You had to be alive to be ill.
Carver swore he hadn't slept the whole journey either. In fact, he was certain he hadn't had a decent night's rest since Ostagar. After that it had been the battle, blood and him and Avery fleeing for their lives to reach Lothering before the hoard did. Even thinking about it made him a strange combination of tired, ill and horrified all at once. He wondered how many people, how many of his friends, had made it to safety. He wondered how many were dead...or worse.
To his left, his mother and Bethany slept curled around each other sharing a single worn cloak for warmth. He envied them that they could sleep peacefully enough. They hadn't seen what he had saw. Still, at least they had both made it when it almost looked like he wouldn't be sitting there at all. The ogre had come out of nowhere and he hadn't thought before throwing himself in front of it to protect Mother and Bethany. The next thing he'd known, he was waking up with a throbbing head and Mother weeping over him thinking he had died.
To his right, Avery sat sharpening her sword with slow, methodical strokes. Carver had seen her sharpening the blade nearly the whole trip and was sure that she could probably slice through whatever she put her mind to with it. Still, he hadn't spoken to her since they had left Lothering. He still blamed his elder sister for everything. She had been the one to convince him to go to Ostagar, she had been the one to almost lead him to his death and now she was the one dragging their small family to some far-flung city on the hope that their uncle would take them in. If it were him, he would have just kept running because surely a sea alone wouldn't stop the Blight.
"Kirkwall!"
The cry went up from the deck above and Carver couldn't help but sign in relief. If anything, at least they'd be getting off the Maker-damned boat and back on dry land. Avery too had looked up at the shout, her sword forgotten. They both raced up onto the deck, usually barred for them and the other refugees but the crew seemed indifferent to their presence now, to be greeted by the sight of great bronze statues of weeping slaves wearing chains.
That could not be a good sign. The City of Chains was the nickname given to Kirkwall but he'd never expected it to be literal.
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"Fucking Gamlen."
It was like a mantra to Carver now, everyday he would mutter it under his breath a hundred times. Now, however, he didn't give a rat's ass about who heard him cursing his lazy, good-for-nothing, spineless, money-grubber of an uncle. After all, it was him who got them into this whole mess in the first place. It was his fault that they were no better than slaves for a whole year because Gamlen couldn't even manage to get them into the city. He hated his uncle, he hated him so damn much.
"Be quiet!" Avery hissed at him, shoving a crate full of smuggled goods into his hands as if that would silence him "Do you want the whole dock to hear you?"
He wanted to open his mouth to argue with his sister, why shouldn't he curse his uncle whenever he damned well pleased? Avery wasn't his mother and just because Father had died it didn't make her the head of the family, no matter how she acted. On the other hand, he didn't want to go to jail for smuggling either on top of being an illegal immigrant so Carver stewed in sullen silence. Instead, he focused on loading the crates of cargo into their small skiff, ready to sail them up the coast where they'd be picked up by Athenril.
"Look, I don't like this anymore than you but we're almost done, okay? Just a few more jobs and then we can start making honest money. Maybe we can even move out of Gamlen's house. For now, Mother and Bethany are safe and we're making at least some coin. It could've been worse..." Avery talked quietly as she past him crate after crate.
Carver didn't reply. He'd heard these lines before and they may have mollified him in the past but now all he did was roll his eyes. It could have been worse...but it could've been a hell of a lot better too. Sometimes he wished he had joined up with the mercenary gang and left Avery to the smugglers. She refused to work with them because they wanted Bethany to fight with them and Avery refused to let their sister be anywhere out in the open with her magic. Carver would've preferred swinging a sword to skulking along the shore in the middle of the night, it felt at least somewhat more honourable.
"There." Avery muttered "That's the last one."
Avery was quick to hop into their skiff, unifying the rope and kicking them away from the dock to float out on the water. It was Carver's turn to row that night so he picked up the oars and let himself fall into the rhythm of rowing. He hoped when he got home that Mother or Bethany had left some hot stew for him.
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"You'll take her over my dead body!" Carver's knuckles were bone-white on the grip of his sword. Two Templars versus himself and Avery he could manage, they could dump the bodies in the sea, their armour would make them sink like stones, and then no one would ever come for Bethany again. It would be easy, he thought, they'd have to run again but they could probably make it to the next city before the hunting would start in earnest.
"Carver..."
Avery's hand was on his shoulder and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't going to back him up if he moved to attack. That angered him more, didn't she care? They were going to take Bethany! They would take her to the Gallows and everyone knew that it might as well be a death sentence. They'd never see her again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mother clung to Bethany, her eyes darting anxiously between the Templars and himself and Avery.
"Easy. We want no trouble, only the mage." The Templar in charge, Cullen or something, raised his hands as if to show that he meant what he said but Carver didn't miss his companion unsheathing their sword.
"Let us go." Avery said, ever the negotiator, he would rather fight first and talk later but his sister always wanted to talk her way out of things rather than use her sword arm "My sister isn't dangerous. We'll leave tonight and you'll never see us again. I'm not letting you take her to the Gallows."
"I'm afraid we can't let you do that." Carver could have told Avery that it would be useless trying to reason with Templars. They'd never just turn a blind eye to an apostate even if they weren't under Meredith's iron-tight grip.
"I-I'll go!"
Now Carver turned to look at Bethany. She was on her feet, hands balled into fists and looking fiercer than he'd ever remembered seeing her. She couldn't be serious, could she? She knew better than anyone how unsafe Kirkwall was for mages and yet she was sending herself straight to the Gallows.
"Bethany, sit down. We aren't letting them take you." He growled, his eyes turning back to the Templars in case they tried anything. Just because Bethany said she would go didn't mean she was leaving the house if he had anything to say about it. He bet that Gamlen had been the one to sell out Bethany to the Templars if it meant he could save his own hide when they did come for her eventually.
"Bethany, you can't!" Avery seemed to be on the same page as him, if more reluctant to back up her words with actions "Father fought for you to be free. We're not going to let them take that away from you."
"You've been protecting me all my life. Let me protect you for a change. This was going to happen whether you liked it or not...I'll be fine, I promise. I love you all." Bethany's sad smile broke his heart. She really meant what she said but Carver wouldn't back down. He would protect his sister with his life if needs be.
But Bethany seemed to have chosen for him because she stepped straight past him and Avery and up to Cullen. Carver thought he could see her trembling for a moment but she raised her head and declared:
"If I come with you peacefully. I want you to swear that you'll let my family be."
It was then that Mother broke down, falling to her knees sobbing on the floor. Carver didn't blame her, he felt like screaming and killing the Templars right where they stood but they were already out the door and Bethany with them.
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"So you'll be leaving then soon?"
It was a question Carver had been dreading to come up. He'd come to enjoy Merrill's company, odd as she could be for a Dalish elf. Still, she was pretty and kind and took more time than any of his sister's other companions to talk to him. That had irritated him, being a Hawke but not being the Hawke that caused misfits from all corners to flock to his side. Merrill was good company though and he never felt like a lesser shadow of his sister when he was with her.
"We raised the money for Bartrand. Looks like we're just waiting on the last few things to get in order before we head for the Deep Roads."
Merrill hummed at that, stirring the small pot of soup she had bubbling away on the small fire. She always claimed her house was a mess whenever he or Avery were over but to him it seemed a lot cleaner than the shack Gamlen called a house. She always invited him over to dinner and he always accepted.
"You should be careful. The Keeper always told me that the Deep Roads were filled with dark things that should best be left alone." It was a warning that Carver had heard many times since he and Avery had first spoke about the expedition. Darkspawn and worse lived in the Deep Roads, everyone knew that, but he wasn't afraid. He'd seen and fought Darkspawn before and had lived to tell the tale.
"What? Afraid that I'll never come back? I thought it'd be Avery you'd be the more concerned for." It was half joke and half not. He wouldn't be surprised if no one apart from Mother and Bethany even noticed if he never returned.
"Don't say that!"
The force in Merrill's words made Carver jump. He'd never heard the tiny elf raise her voice before or sound so angry when she did. She turned on him, bright green eyes blazing and he felt himself shrinking his seat when she did. He hadn't meant to upset her, the thought of it made his stomach twist in guilt, and he could feel that there was something more to her outburst than just his words.
"I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could think to say.
That seemed to deflate her somewhat, her eyes going from him to her feet. He wanted to reach out for her hand or something but he felt to afraid to. Merrill looked like she wanted to say more, possibly to explain, and Carver wanted to know what was troubling her. He liked her, he didn't want to see her upset especially if he was the cause...or part of it at least.
"I'll be fine. I promise that I'll come back safe." He didn't know if it was the right thing to say but he wanted to make her feel better "I'll come home and when we're up in our new house you can come over and I can make dinner for you."
She gave a small laugh at that although Carver thought he could still see some sadness in her eyes. It was progress though "I've eaten your food. You couldn't cook if your life depended on it. You put in enough salt to poison half the alienage."
"Why do you think I always let you make the dinner?" He gave her his best crooked smile, a smile was better than whatever emotions she had to be feeling a moment earlier. Merrill was so pretty when she smiled and she smiled often. Maybe when he came back he'd tell her that. Maybe.
If I come back, I'll tell her that I think I love her, he promised himself. He'd fight through every Darkspawn in the Deep Roads if it meant he could come back and make Merrill happy.
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"Carver! Carver! Stay with me! Maker, please hold on!"
Avery's voice was like a distant hum in his mind. He thought he could register movement, as if something or someone was carrying him. Carver didn't know, it all seemed very foggy.
The last thing he remembered, he'd eaten those mushrooms they'd found on the path a few days ago. They'd been travelling for days it seemed like, ever since Bartrand had abandoned them. Anders had a map, a ragged piece of cloth, and apparently they were heading for another exit but Carver couldn't tell whether they were actually heading forward or just around in circles. He'd started feeling sick after that. He'd eaten the most out of him, Avery, Varric and Anders and yet he seemed to grow weaker the longer they went. The fever had started and then the headache, the near constant throbbing in his skull that sometimes he swore was voices, then he had collapsed and everything seemed to blur together.
"We're nearly there. I can sense them." Ander's voice cut in now "Just a little further."
"You sure, Blondie?" Varric, that had to be him "Junior doesn't look like he'll hold on much longer."
"Trust me, they're close. Grey Wardens can sense other Grey Wardens as well as Darkspawn."
Carver hated being talked about as if he wasn't there. He tried to open his mouth to argue, to say something, but all he could manage was a low rasp. Why was he so weak?
"They'll help him? You swear that they'll help him? Look at him, Anders, he's like a corpse!" Carver never remembered hearing his sister sound so panicked. Was he dreaming of her or actually hearing her? He couldn't quite tell.
After that, everything went black for a time. Was he dead? Carver wasn't sure. He didn't know what it was like to be dead so he imagined that he could be. That was, until he opened his eyes again.
He found himself lying on the cold, hard ground with a small pillow under his head and moth-eaten blanket draped across him, stripped down to his undergarments. His head felt light but he did feel better than he had since he'd eaten those mushrooms and gotten sick. Where was Avery, Anders and Varric? Despite there being a fire not too far from where he lay, he couldn't see if anyone was sitting around it. Had they maybe wandered off to find some food and left him with the fire?
"You're finally awake." A voice spoke and a shadow loomed over him. He didn't recognise the voice but he did note the heavy Orelesian accent. Whoever this was, Carver was sure he didn't know him.
"Avery?" His voice was weak and his throat ached when he spoke. He knew this man was definitely not his sister but maybe he knew where she was. Maybe they had met him on their way through the Deep Roads while he had been asleep.
"The girl who brought you here? I didn't catch her name but she is gone. You won't be seeing her again, I'm afraid."
That made him sit up blot straight. Colours swam in his vision and he felt like the world was spinning but he couldn't believe what he had heard. What could that mean? Was Avery dead? Did this man murder her? What about Varric and Anders? He felt a gentle hand on his chest pushing him back down.
"Rest easy, Carver is your name? You were very ill when you were brought here. I didn't believe you would survive the Joining."
"Joining?" His head swam, he was feeling faint again.
"As of this moment, you are a Grey Warden."
After that, Carver fell asleep again with those words ringing like a hundred bells in his mind.