Chapter Text
"They're not letting anyone into the city."
Aveline was right. The dock was crowded, just as the hold had been.
"There'll be more ships," Carver grumbled, "we'll just have to move on to the next place."
"But Kirkwall is where uncle is!" Bethany protested, "we should at least try."
"What does it matter now! Nobody cares who we are. Not without Mother-"
Bethany put her face in her hands. "Don't," she choked, "I can't."
"You have the connection here, Carver, we're not starting from nothing. Listen to your sister."
"I've had it with living on scraps! We can't go back, and I'm not making a home in this filthy slum of a city. Look at it! Look at the smoke!"
Bethany was sobbing now. "Carver, stop."
Aveline faced off with him. "We're all grieving. Now we're going to take it one day at a time. We need food, and rest. And the sooner we speak to a guard, the sooner we'll figure out our next steps." She walked towards one, and he let her.
Carver put an arm around Bethany as people pushed past both of them. Their mabari whined, butting at his heels.
None of this was supposed to happen.
Garrett was never supposed to fall. He was never, ever supposed to die. He was always the strongest, always the last one standing. That thing, that ogre, there was nothing anyone could do against such a monster. It could take down a King as easily as it took down a farmhand, and the only way to survive was to run.
"We'll ask for him," Carver said, pressing his lips against Bethany's hair, "but we can't count on his help. He doesn't know us."
Gamlen was not as suspicious of them as Carver was of him, but his offer of a year of work was more than enough to reignite Carver's temper.
"Three days we've been waiting for this? It's not worth it just to get into the city!"
"Fine," Gamlen sneered, "see if a refugee like you gets a better offer anywhere else."
"I'll take it," said Aveline, "I have no other option. Bethany?"
Bethany looked sadly at her. "...I cannot leave my brother."
"And what of him? Why should he not follow you?"
Bethany stood a little straighter and considered this. "I think... we should try another city. We can come back and visit when things have calmed down."
Carver himself calmed down, and said nothing at Bethany's diplomatic farewells.
Their first meeting with a Tranquil had shaken Bethany so much he was tempted to contact Gamlen again just to get her out of there. A Circle. A bloody Circle as a port.
He hated this city.
They sat in the shade, Rebel sprawled at their feet. Bethany had the idea that they would take the next ship East, as long as it was going to stop at least once more in the Free Marches. They didn't want to end up in Antiva. Carver had studied a little Thedan geography after enlisting in the King's service, but Bethany had spent years poring over a beautiful cloth map that had been a present from Father before he died. It was ashes now.
"I must return to Starkhaven, Fenris."
Carver's attention was caught by the unusual accent, the rolling Rs.
"Won't it be quicker to go North?"
"Quicker, and no doubt a greater risk to us both." The man who was speaking walked past, expensive armour gleaming in contrast to the tired refugee attire. "I need to gather more support first."
The one called Fenris followed him, an elf with white hair. "The more people you have around you, the more attention you will draw to yourself." His bare feet had little markings on them too.
"There must be a charter pinned up somewhere, can you see one?"
Fenris didn't even look. "No."
Bethany was also looking up at the two of them. They stood quite close, evidently unconcerned that their conversation could be overheard.
Or maybe they just thought Fereldans too lowly to even pretend to notice.
Carver had had enough. Rebel jumped up even before Carver had got to his feet. "You want on a ship, you get in line with the rest of us." They turned at the interruption. "You might have more coin, but we've been waiting longer."
The auburn-haired man looked him up and down, but it was lacking the disdain he expected. "I'm sure there will be room for everyone, serah." His gaze went to Bethany and he smiled. Now that he did expect.
Fenris ignored him and Carver ignored him right back.
Bethany stood up also. "If you don't mind me asking, where are you hoping to dock?"
"Ostwick, my lady."
My lady? Fuck off.
Rebel went over and sniffed at Fenris, who walked off without a word.
Carver gave him extra pats for that.
Getting on the ship took almost all the coin they had between them, but he wasn't about to admit it to anyone. He was sure they would find work in Ostwick, something which wouldn't tie them down for a year. His priority was keeping Bethany safe.
Annoyingly, Fenris and his companion had settled near them in the hold, rather than with the other nobles.
Carver sat himself resolutely between him and Bethany. There would be no more smooth talking if he had anything to do with it.
He was suddenly hit by the loss, the reminder that it was just him and Bethany, alone. That Garrett wasn't going to show up out of the blue one day. That both their parents were gone. It was hard to breathe for a moment, the feeling consuming him.
He was still stunned by it all when he realised that the Starkhaven man had shuffled closer and was offering him some bread.
"We don't need your charity," he said, but his voice had no strength behind it, and the thought of food made his stomach rumble.
Bethany placed a hand on Carver's arm and addressed the man. "You're very kind. Are you sure you can spare it?"
"Of course. Besides, I wouldn't want it to go stale."
Bethany took it, and the slice of cheese that went with it. "Thank you."
"I wouldn't want us to be strangers if we are travelling together. My name is Sebastian. This is Fenris."
"Bethany."
Carver didn't want to look up, but he didn't want to ruin the trip for Bethany either. "Carver," he said, glancing up at Sebastian's handsome face, "Carver Hawke."