Just a BioWare Fan

Keeping the Tome of Koslun in Dragon Age 2 is a dick move. It’s like stealing ancient religious scrolls from the Vatican, running off to Luxembourg, and waving them in the Pope’s face while saying, “Neener neener”…and then killing the captain of the Vatican guards, most of his best men, and kicking the rest of them out of the country. When they’re gone you shove the scrolls in a chest and never speak of them again.

The game, however, did not give you the option of giving the Arishok the Tome without also giving him Isabela. It’s also the one thing Hawke actually achieves in the entirety of DA2: saving Kirkwall from the rampaging Qunari. That lasts for four years and then it descends into chaos after Anders does his thing. Hawke keeping Isabela in Kirkwall in the first place also arguably causes their continued presence and eventual loss of patience so, really, it’s all her fault in the first place.

Hawke’s whole story revolves around damage control, whether that damage accrues to (or from) her family, her friends, Kirkwall, or the mage or Templar faction. I play her like Mr. Incredible: I just cleaned that up! Can’t the world stay saved for, like, five minutes? Every time she turns around there’s another idiot doing something to endanger people and she’s the only one who can stop it.

Though I could have brought all of these to the Dragon Age: Inquisition forum and posted them on the confessions thread there, I discovered that I had an awful lot of things I suspect I do “wrong” in DA games. Instead of hijacking the thread with two full pages of confessions I thought I’d post them here. You, my darlings, are naturally more than welcome to post any of your own or to explain how very wrong I am, complete with Chant verses or explanations of a character I’ve disparaged.

I confess that my first trip through DA:O confounded many of my expectations. The girl did not ascend to the throne despite all adversity. In fact, she didn’t even get the guy. First he dumped her and then he fed himself to a dragon after she had thrown fireballs at its ankles for an hour and a half. (You can use ballistas?! Why don’t my allies use them instead of getting slaughtered wholesale by Darkspawn?)

I confess that, though I adore Zevran’s romance, I cannot resist Alistair. I also confess that I’ve never romanced Morrigan. Achievement be damned, I just don’t like her. I would make a male Warden if he could romance Sten, though.

I confess to giving Isabella to the Arishok my second time through DA2 because she ran off with the book and never returned the first time, even though the second she obviously did come back to Hawke. I hold meta-game grudges.

I confess that I find Anders to be a consistent progression from DA: Awakening through the acts of DA2 to the end. I also confess that, the first time I finished DA2 (unspoiled), I almost threw my controller through the screen. As noted, I held the grudge long enough to banish him from my party for an entire game. Then I let him back in, caught all the painfully obvious clues I blew past the first time, and now have a terrible time deciding whether or not to jump his bones or go with Fenris. The decision usually rests on how long it’s been since my Warden was frustrated by his resistance to her charms in Awakening.

I confess that Daveth and Jory are stripped of gear in every run just before we meet Morrigan because I find the discussion about how cold it is much more entertaining that way. Also, Alistair is always in the Chasind robes.

I confess to making an M!Hawke and rivalmancing Fenris just to ogle that one scene. [mops drool and fans self]

I confess that I always steal the sword from that poor elf messenger at Ostagar, even though I feel guilty for getting him in trouble and doubly so when I’m an elf. Solidarity is not enough to outweigh the stat boost.

I confess that, despite being uninterested in finishing my playthrough as a casteless dwarf, the Aeducan run ended up being my favorite of all. She toyed mercilessly with Behlen and Harrowmont, all the while intending to wrest control from both at the first opportunity. Branka’s quest had massive emotional impact on her and she ignited in me a deep interest in seeing the dwarves push back the Darkspawn and reclaim their thaigs.

I confess that I find Bethany dull and let her die in the Deep Roads for the drama, but that I always make Carver a Grey Warden because he seems so much happier there—after I needle him endlessly through Act 1 about being my sorry little brother. Sibling rivalry FTW!

Also, I confess that I find Leandra irritating in Act 1, forgettable in Act 2, and still heart-wrenching in Act 3. I don’t care how unreasonable her barbs and demands or how uninterested she seemed in Hawke’s life, no one deserves what was done to her. It wasn’t quite broodmother-level like in Origins but I found it a very effective scene.

I hated the Fade in Origins the first time because it was endless. Then I discovered that I was going around the circle backwards so I had to go through everything twice to get through all the obstacles. So many needless, fiery deaths and barely survived golem fights! Once I figured it out, I learned to enjoy shape-shifting and that whole sequence.

I confess that I once failed utterly to win Fenris to my side and, when I sided with the mages, had to strip his weapons and accessories before my squishy little healer could kill him. I may also have shed a tear or two at having to do so.

I confess to resenting Wynne at first because I have long preferred to play a healer. I loved having her in my party (especially with Alistair and Zevran) but it always made one of us redundant. Then I discovered the arcane warrior and learned to love her again.

I confess that I’ve never once wanted to romance Varric and I wish him and Bianca all the best. Further, I don’t love chest hair so I’m just as happy to have him cover it up in DA:I.

It depressed me that I could not always keep my Mabari by my side in DA: Origins without taking up a party slot. When I discovered that the human noble couldn’t save the dog at Ostagar I may or may not have said some harsh words about the writers. There’s enough room at camp for two!

I confess that I run straight to First Enchanter Irving and tell him about Jowan. All my Circle mages consider Irving their surrogate father. Some of them get over it and some don’t but Jowan is such a user that all of them want to make sure he doesn’t get away with manipulating their supposed friendship. Besides, Irving knows anyway so from a metagame standpoint it doesn’t make any difference. I really can’t stand Jowan.

I hated Anora first because of how she treated Alistair, then because she got weirdly jealous and tried to keep me away from the delectable Teagan, and then because she was so short-sighted that she hired Jowan—that greasy weasel JOWAN, I ask you!—to teach her kid how to be a mage rather than sending Connor to the Circle, plus she lied to her husband about it. Even my first time through I knew she was high-noble enough to be able to see him whenever she wished and he’d have been, in Circle terms, right next door. Every death in Redcliffe is laid at her door, as far as I’m concerned, and a fair number of the ones at Ostagar, too. If it hadn’t been for her Eamon would have been there with his army instead of unconscious while his soldiers killed and probably ate their friends and neighbors. I kill her almost every time and give Alistair a stern talking-to about it afterward. Then I give him a present I found in his uncle’s house and we’re in love again. :D

I confess that, much as I love the boys in Dragon Age 2, Aveline was still my favorite companion. Her story about her father makes me cry; that’s the kind of writing that brings me back to BioWare again and again.

I have always wanted my Dalish elf to be able to profess her undying love for Tamlen before he disappears into the eluvian, and to have a heartbreaking scene with him when he comes back later in the game. I head-canon them as pledged to one another but the game won’t let me say it.

I confess to not loving beards (except Duncan’s) and to romancing elves and Alistair by preference because they’re clean-shaven.

I confess to reading and writing lurid fanfic and to knowing all too well about the k-meme. I also admit to shipping Elthina and Petrice solely to maximize the drama of that moment Elthina leaves turns away and starts back up the stairs.

I cannot complete a straight aggressive playthrough, mostly because when I did a full renegade run in ME1 the last conversation with Kaidan made me cry because of how Shepard had changed him. I’m scared of what I might do to my darling companions when I’m pretending to be psychotic!

I confess to disliking Leliana’s song. On top of that I find her to be terrifying after the eyelash comment and none of my Wardens talk to her any more than strictly necessary after the one that romanced her (and then ran away, screaming).

I confess that my Wardens can never be bothered with laying traps. They’d rather bomb in on the enemy with daggers (or two swords, may the Maker grant it) flailing and dazzle them with rogue-y goodness than take all that extra time planning and strategizing.

I confess that I want Orzammar or whatever thaig we see next to be colorful. All of the Deep Roads don’t have to be earth tones. Andraste’s toenails, haven’t the dwarves bumped into any rocks that make pretty colors in all that digging down there?!

I’ve never been able to bring myself to desecrate Andrasete’s ashes. My conflict arises not in some devotion to the Chantry but a complete inability to side with the dragon cult freaks. If they want me to do it then it must be wrong so I never do.

I confess that the idea of having Morrigan's sloppy seconds grosses me out and that was why I denied her the Dark Ritual the first time I played Origins. It's a factor every time I decide whether to persuade Alistair or do the ultimate sacrifice.

Lastly, I confess I've never liked Ohgren.

I’ll preface this topic with the thing that always surprises me about conversations insisting that Anders was utterly changed to shoe-horn him into the Dragon Age 2 story line: I always assumed he was gay. The line about wishing for “a pretty girl on my arm” I presumed to be a figure of speech, a colloquialism rather than an actual expression of desire for female company.

Now, really, my Wardens were led to expect that everyone who knew her would adore a trip to her tent, so to speak. Morrigan was the sole exception and she didn’t like me anyway. Zev, Leliana, and Alistair were all but drooling on them. How could Anders possibly resist any of these amazing women unless he had no interest in female people?

Imagine my surprise at a male Warden’s complete inability to flirt with him, either. On top of that I find him eager to pursue a relationship with a LadyHawke in DA2. Apparently my Warden prowess had waned in Amaranthine. None of that has a blessed thing to do with Anders's personality. It’s mere sexuality.

If you really listen to Anders in Awakening you can hear the seeds of his bitterness, most clearly in his conversations with Justice. At the beginning he’s relieved at his reprieve from Templar pursuit and thrilled at his first tastes of freedom, certainly. For the first time in his life someone actively wants him to exercise his power to its full extent. Why wouldn’t he be a little giddy?

He’s still angry, however. He repeatedly expresses his frustration and guilt that the majority of mages are still subjected to the predation of the Templar Order under the Chantry’s rule. Combine his stated feelings with Justice’s single-mindedness et voila! You get Anders starting along that downward spiral. At the beginning of DA2 he’s still got his snark, he still shows sparks of fun, but he focuses less and less on himself and more on the injustice he perceives in the treatment of all mages in Thedas.

He tries to bury what he sees as his selfishness under a metric ton of sick and frightened refugees in Darktown but Justice sees right through that ploy. The real problem is not that Anders himself is free but that almost no other mage is. Once you talk to Karl—and Anders kills him—matters are only intensified.

Eventually the free clinic isn’t enough and he gets involved in the mage underground, smuggling people out of The Gallows. That assuages his guilt for a while but Justice gets harder and harder to control as the duo hear stories of what life is like in the Circle in Kirkwall. One step too far and he’s asked to butt out, essentially, thus removing an outlet for all that seething frustration. Is it any wonder he grows more and more withdrawn and defensive?

You can hear the resignation in his voice (and huge kudos to Adam Howden for the fantastic voice acting) when he finally settles on his ultimate plan and asks for help gathering the ingredients. It’s clear both in his animations and his words that he’s unhappy about deceiving you. I suspect Justice is no more thrilled with it than Anders, if you’ve taken the rivalry path and tried to keep their personalities separate. Neither can risk Hawke running to the Revered Mother, however.

From that point to the end it’s obvious how much his decision weighs on him. I imagine that, were the romance dialogue there, things would have gone downhill in the bedroom as well. All of his considerable energy has turned inward toward driving through his conscience to the ultimate goal: forcing the battle he deeply believes is the only way mages will ever truly gain freedom from Chantry rule.

Whether you agree with that conclusion or not (and goodness knows I’ve had Hawkes that fully bought into it and others that couldn’t have disagreed more) he’s utterly convinced of it. If anyone in Thedas might say it’s better to die on your feet than live on your knees, it’s the Justice-Anders he’s become by the end of DA2. Little as he likes it, he does what has to be done in his (their?) eyes.

From the first conversation you’re shown that Anders is a passionate, exuberant man. While Justice and Kirkwall strip his veneer of good cheer away under their combined, relentless assault he’s still the same person. When you romance him or go down the friendship path with him you get flashes of his humor late into the second act.

It surprises me that so many people confuse character development with a retcon. If you explore all of his dialogues you can follow his progress through DA: Awakening and DA2. It may not be what I would have wanted for his character but it made sense in the context of the story the writer’s wanted to tell.

Let me outline the point made again and again in the Dragon Age portions of the BSN that has spawned this post. “The sexuality of an NPC should be set, not something the main character influences. Knowing I can romance the same person with both genders ruins my immersion!”

My response? Quit meta-gaming. If you can’t do that simply restrain yourself and don’t romance the same character with both genders. Unless the companion in question makes his or her sexual preferences explicit, your player character does not know what they are. If you think that person should be straight don’t initiate a homosexual relationship and vice versa.

Then there’s the sub-argument that BioWare’s games are too player-centric in general and the move to variable sexual preferences is a further step in the wrong direction. All I can say in response to that is to ask why you’ve chosen to play an RPG if you don’t want to influence the game universe. Is that not what they’re for? Go play Halo if you want an exciting game with a good story with characters you can’t change.

I wrote recently about my theory surrounding the genesis of the red lyrium with which we become disturbingly familiar over the course of Dragon Age 2. Because I’m so long-winded, I decided to stop speculating about the past and start spinning tales around what we do know and where BioWare might take us, as they have confirmed that they will in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

All of that last red lyrium post brought us around full circle to that idol that the Tethras brothers and Hawke find on the altar in DA2. Even presuming it existed when the thaig was abandoned, we know it’s far from inert. What we don’t know is whether it was corrupted when it was made or if it was subsequently tainted.

I see no reason to assume that lyrium requires direct, physical contact to absorb something as ephemeral as spirits. Even if it did, we cannot know how long the Profane have been lying inactive. The demon we meet there says that they hunger but it must have been a very long time since the dwarves drove the Darkspawn that deep. What they crave could, after all, be the spirits of the dead.

If the Warden and Alistair were still involved at the end of Dragon Age: Origins he mentions her to Hawke in DA2, whether as a Grey Warden or as King of Ferelden. Yet four short years later Cassandra observes to Leliana that Hawke has gone missing, “just like the Warden.”

Whether it can be a coincidence or not (and, one assumes from the inclusion of the line that it is not), she and Alistair must have had quite the conversation about it before she left him. Because you have several ways to play DA:O even within the confines of an Alistair-Warden relationship, you could have anything from a wife leaving her capable husband to rule his country to a mistress bailing out on a miserable king who only rules with the support of his uncle and didn’t want the job in the first place.

We don’t know a thing about where the Warden went, as yet. For the moment, my head canon is that she didn’t tell Alistair, either. I sincerely doubt he could stand up to Leliana’s determined questioning, after all. Even a hardened king still wants to think the best of everyone and would never believe the devout little redhead that helped save Thedas wasn’t his trusted friend. But if the Warden can’t tell him where she’s going, what the heck would she have said?

As the beginning of a fascinating discussion about lyrium, both red and blue, on the BSN recently the idea was posited that the special stone is not, in fact, mere mineral but actually a living entity. The concept immediately captured my imagination and I’ve been pondering the implications since.

The short version runs thus: dwarves literally go back to the stone when they die. The bodies as well as the spirits of their dead are absorbed by the veins of lyrium that run through the entirety of Thedas (and, one presumes, the planet on which that continent is located but that’s a much different set of speculations). Lyrium sings, as is clearly demonstrated, and it does so with the voices of dwarven ancestors.

Now, I can’t say that I’m sold on the idea that lyrium eats the dead bodily. I’ve got this awful vision of dwarven tombs empty but for a tendril of ravenous, glowing blue stone waiting for its next helping. However, the concept of its both creating and reclaiming the spirits of the dwarves does make a certain amount of sense in the Dragon Age universe. But what about that dangerous red lyrium?

Recently we’ve gotten news that Patrick Weekes, newly freed by BioWare from his fantastic work in the Mass Effect universe, not only had moved to work on Dragon Age: Inquisition but that he would be writing the next in the series of books based around the games. Speculation on the BioWare Social Network has, naturally run rampant.

As I’d not read any of the books after the horrid mess that was Mass Effect Deception, I thought I’d suck it up and read lead writer David Gaider’s Asunder so that I could form an opinion on whether the projected April, 2014 release date for Dragon Age: The Masked Empire indicated anything about the release date for the next game.

The argument runs thus: The Masked Empire’s plot covers the Orlesian civil war that was just beginning in earnest as Asunder came to an end. Thus it would set the stage for the events of the Inquisition and would be released before the game.

My response, having finished Asunder all of ten minutes ago, is, “Poppycock!” What follows contains some serious ending spoilers so if you don’t want to know, don’t click through. I won’t spill all the gory details though because you really should read the book, particularly if you want to see Wynne and Shale again. It’s exciting, filled with lore tidbits, and it’s from David Gaider so you know it’s well written.

I’ve read from a few of the developers on BioWare’s boards that the Frostbite engine can produce realistic skin tones in the darker spectrum and that they intend to make use of that capability. First, let me say that I can’t wait. I like to make my PCs in a variety of colors but the old engine generally went from “glass of milk” to “badly jaundiced”.

[Sidebar: I adore that SWTOR lets me not only go from grey-white to ebony black but all the primary colors and combinations thereof. I have sky blue, deep green, blood red, and chalk white as well as my humans. It’s agonizing to pick for new characters, but an agony that I enjoy to the hilt.]

Dragon Age 2 did a little better but anything darker than a light tan tended to look odd. However, there’s been a lengthy and intermittently interesting debate about the inclusion of cultural elements from outside medieval Europe which has somehow devolved into a discussion of Africa, genetic phenotypes, and how Isabela can be black.

If Wishes Were Horses

Anders glanced up from healing some sweet-looking, filthy child while his parents wrung their hands. He’d known I was coming and his own freshly-scrubbed face shone in the light of his magic.

The tableau showed me a dedicated healer exhausting himself in the service of others, but I couldn’t help but suspect he’d arranged it for my benefit. It echoed the scene in which we’d first met so closely that it seemed precisely the sort of obvious ploy Anders would try.

The image of the endearing bumbler couldn’t stand up, however, to the fact that this was yet another attempt at deception. He might as well have put up a shrine to Andraste in one corner and a choir or urchins in the other. I crossed my arms and leaned against a nearby table to show that I wasn’t fooled.

Struggles and Striving

By the afternoon Sebastian and I talked through our discontent we’d spent hours together in one parlor or another, chatting politely with yet another noble family that simply had to host the Champion one time more than their neighbors. We’d danced a hundred stately rounds when I couldn’t face another boorish rich boy who’d never done anything more exciting than walk through Lowtown once on a dare.

His presence at these balls and dinner parties gave him unprecedented access to the nobles of Kirkwall. I often tried to deflect attention to his cause. Talk of betrayal and murder in Starkhaven meant a welcome relief from scrutiny, short-lived though it might have been, and genteel Sebastian made quite the impression on the ladies of Hightown.

The prince’s genuine sorrow and piety won their hearts but no breath of scandal ever touched him. Their husbands found him honorable and masculine enough to be likable, as well. In fact some of them told him how much they enjoyed his company much more aggressively than their wives. He told me of their advances in hushed tones and oblique language.

Growing Pains

During this quiet void after what we came to call The Year of the Qunari, I happened upon a book about Shartan, the elf famous for helping Andraste free the slaves a thousand years before. Naturally my thoughts turned to Fenris, with whom I had fallen into a delicate friendship laced with tensions we tried to ignore.

I wandered up to the mansion one night when I knew he’d avoided The Hanged Man. Most nights he joined us but he also had Donnic and a few others over for cards once a week or so and some evenings he simply didn’t come. After so long alone it sometimes made him very uncomfortable to have so many people near, even if most of them were his friends.

We never knocked on one another’s doors. I called up from the foyer, surrounded by cobwebs and beams of moonlight that shone through the holes Fenris never could be bothered to repair. He could afford it but it never mattered to him. It did not, after all, belong to him.

After the Storm

It had been a year since I’d staggered out of the keep that no longer had a Viscount. In the power vacuum his death left Meredith expanded at an alarming rate and every inch of her bristled with unreasoning fear. Even mages who never left the Gallows, who had, until recently, supported the Templars, stood accused of plotting and nefarious deeds.

Things had gotten so bad that even Cullen, her second in command, had begun to question her judgment. Though he never admitted it in so many words he’d begun to shade the truth and then outright lie to her to keep her placated as best he could.

The haunted look he’d had when we’d first met, an artifact of some horrific experience in the Ferelden Circle, had faded in the first few years I had known him. Over the months after I was named Champion the deep circles beneath his eyes returned again. As Knight-Lieutenant he retained enough authority to do much without involving Meredith but he couldn’t have been more than ten years my senior and a good number of those he tried to command were much older.

We Are the Champion

"Arishokost. Qun-aneen ebra-toh." Fenris's voice rang out, the words unfamiliar to me but clearly meaning something to the Arishok. He dropped his hand from the hilt and peered at my friend. "You have granted this woman basalit-an. By your own admission she now has the right to challenge you."

"If you truly knew the Qun, elf, you would not suggest I battle a female." He sounded both furious and dismissive. That hand began to rise again.

"But she is no female. She is a respected outsider, by our own words."

The Arishok considered this. “What you say is true, elf.” He turned to me. “Then I challenge you, Hawke. We fight for the thief.”

“Just so I understand,” I said in a clear, carrying voice, “we duel one-on-one. If I win the rest of your people take the book and leave, today.” There wouldn’t be too many witnesses left if he refused to keep his end of the bargain but at least his own men would know him forsworn. I was counting on their rigid code of conduct saving the citizens of Kirkwall, assuming I lived out the afternoon myself.

An Offer from the Arishok

I needed to make sure Bethany knew about Mother before we did anything else. Gamlen had promised to send word but he’d hardly proven the most reliable of family members. Once I’d helped my sister to her feet she embraced me, gingerly to avoid being impaled on my pouldrons. Before I could decide how to ask delicately if she knew our mother was dead, however, Bethany proved she did.

“Did mother suffer, sister, or was it at least brief?” As always, she wore that earnest expression that made me want to tell her everything was going to be all right. It had never worked on Carver, who used to nail her braids to her bed when she was sleeping, but the rest of us had coddled her utterly. No wonder she had become so comfortable in the Gallows where no outside concerns intruded unless a mage sought them out.

As I hadn’t been there when Mother had been beheaded and sewn onto that monstrous, piecemeal body, I couldn’t really answer her question. I did the best I could. “She lingered a bit but she didn’t seem to be in pain,” I said. Bethany nodded mournfully but more pressing matters interrupted our talk.

Hawke: Was Andraste a virgin?

Sebastian: No, of course not, Hawke. She was married to Maferath before the Maker came to her.

Hawke: And after she became the Bride of the Maker, did she abandon that marriage?

Sebastian (as if reciting a lesson): The Chant teaches that Maferath continued to fight at her side until he became jealous of her sweeping success in battle and in winning the hearts and minds of all she conquered.

Hawke: Do you suppose she remained chaste, then, as she and her husband fought their way across Thedas? Did they sleep in separate tents?

Sebastian (chuckling): I’ve no idea, Hawke, but you must remember that she had two husbands at that time. The Maker would never feel jealous of any mortal but I imagine Andraste gained much spiritual satisfaction from communing with him.

Hawke (raises eyebrow): Spiritual?

Certain Doom and a Reprieve

The looters discouraged or dead, we returned to following bands of Qunari across Lowtown. For every ten we killed two more hauled another well-dressed human off toward Hightown. Satisfying as it was to finally let loose on them, we’d have to make our way up as well and find out what they had planned.

As we followed the warren of alleys, circling around closed gates and collapsed buildings that still smoldered and spit flame, we found ourselves outside Gamlen’s apartment. Instead of guards or armed thugs fighting for their lives we found three men wearing impressive blue and silver armor in battle with the Qunari. They fought well but were hopelessly outnumbered.

We threw ourselves into the fray and, between the seven of us, we made short work of the remaining troops. In the quiet that followed, the sounds of struggle much subdued after the swath we’d cut across Lowtown, one of the men bowed and introduced himself in a ridiculously formal Orlesian accent as Rochard, a Grey Warden.

An Evening of Surprises

I spent the afternoon making the rounds, visiting my friends in their various homes around the city. Varric regaled me with tales of Merrill’s latest midnight wanderings and how much it cost him to hire thugs to guard her from thugs. Anders told me about his more colorful patients and let me cajole him into clean robes and a hair brushing.

Sebastian showed me where he’d added my mother’s name to the prayer wall. Merrill nattered on about the eluvian and described how much more she could do with the arullin’holm. She took my refusal to hand it over with equanimity, however; she hardly expected a different answer after all these months.

I crossed the bay to the Gallows on the off chance that they would let me see my sister. Cullen, sweetly apologetic but firm, told me that the mages were all sequestered and could have no outside contact. He did let me know that a message had come from Uncle Gamlen so at least Bethany knew that Mother was dead.

Resolutions

When I woke some time later the fading embers in the grate provided the only meager light in the room. I’d turned in my sleep, pulling my knees to my chest, and Fenris was curled around me, one hand draped over my waist. His breath tickled the fine hairs on the back of my neck and I became acutely aware of his solid presence behind me.

It soothed me that he had come tonight, despite his own reservations. I fought against the hope that it was more than a renewal of our close friendship.

As I stirred, he woke with a start, his body tensing against mine. A moment of silence stretched out before I felt him relax behind me. “Hawke,” he said finally, his relief obvious. I wondered where he had thought he was, what ghosts had haunted his dreams.

Comfort and Compromise

My bitter laugh sent more tears spilling down my cheeks. “Better late than never, right?” I swallowed my gorge and my anger. This was the last conversation I’d ever have with her. Vomiting could wait and revenge had already been exacted. For once I’d pay attention.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “I should have told you that long ago. You’re so like your father.” One of those mystery hands rose unsteadily. Chilled fingers brushed my cheek. “He would have loved to see you so fierce, fighting for the people that need help most.”

Andraste’s ass, why now? I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d said she was proud of me. Certainly she hadn’t since she’d accused me of letting an ogre crush my brother while we fled the Darkspawn horde into the Kocari Wilds. “This would be a lot easier if you told me off for wearing a helmet that clashes so badly with my chestpiece,” I told her.

We smiled at one another. She knew my abrasive words were meant to shove my pain aside. “Let’s get you out of here. Surely someone at The Gallows can help…you,” I finished feebly. We hadn’t even found the rest of her.