Chapter Text
Word comes to Kirkwall three weeks after the Fifth Blight ends. The news bursts into the Hanged Man by way of chatty mouths and choked tears. Native Free Marchers loudly proclaim their disdain and want of the refugees to "get back to where you came from already," while the Fereldens weep at all they had lost and what little still remained of what they'd left behind.
Avery watches the scene unfold before them, a horrid feeling churning low in their gut as their hand clutches around a mug of ale. That was it then. Their Circle destroyed. Ferelden left in tatters; and all they could do about it was sit at the bar feeling sorry for themselves? It stings. The shame embeds itself in their veins, burning them from the inside out.
Their gaze swivels to Garrett who sits across from them at the table and he sends that same bleak, dead stare back at them.
"Guess that's it then." He says.
"Guess that's it." Avery repeats.
"Wow." Varric snorts. "Really feeling the patriotism from you two. Thought you'd be jumping up and down celebrating."
"Celebrate what?" Garrett huffs back at him. "The Blight being over doesn't bring Lothering back. It doesn't change what we all had to go through to get here."
"Sure, but you're alive, right? That's gotta count for something?"
"Not even a full gold piece, my friend."
"You cut yourself too short, Hawke." Varric replies with a cheeky grin. "I'd pay at least a couple copper for ya."
Garrett rolls his eyes with a fond snort. "Well, aren't you generous?"
They share grins across the table but Avery can't bring themselves to do the same, a strained, half hearted twitch of their mouth being the only response they can give. Normally their bickering is something they enjoy in quiet silence, chuckling behind mugs next to Merrill as Fenris or Isabela make their quips and add into the fun. Carver would make a show of wretching at the blatant flirting and Bethany would smile and laugh along.
Today just isn't a day they can stomach the routine. Not as they listen to the commotion around them. The sobbing and the expressions of total defeat written across the faces of the refugees.
And then a name, one they were intimately familiar with, breaks through the sea of voices.
"Did you hear that the Queen knighted a mage as the Hero of Ferelden? Some blonde biddy - Scylla or whatever."
Avery's heart lurches inside their chest, their gaze snapping to the two men having the conversation, staring at them intensely out of the corner of their eye, the world around them inconsequential except for this exchange of dialogue. Scylla? Their Scylla? It had to be. It couldn't be anyone else.
"And to make matters worse, that damned mage asked the queen to free the Circle and she agreed! Can you believe that?"
What…?
What?
"I suspect she's got some sort of dirt on Queen Anora, it's the only way she'd agree to a thing like that but -"
"Excuse me." Avery's not sure when they had gotten out of their seat, not sure when they had marched across the bar to where the two men sat but they were there. Eyes wide and wild. "Did you… say the Circle is free now? They're letting the mages govern themselves?"
"Yeah!" Says the one man, drunk by the sound of his voice and the red flush filling his face. "Can you believe that? It's blasphemy I tell you! An omen to dark things down the road. Probably better I left when I did if that's what they're doing with the country."
If Avery were not a more contained person, not so used to the public's disdain of mages, if the news didn't shake them to their very core, they'd sock him right in the gut. Instead they just stand there, breathing through the wave of tears that threaten to explode out of their eyes.
"There's… there's still a Circle?"
"What?" The man barks. "What do you mean is there still a Circle? Of course there is, that damn tower is a thousand bloody feet tall. I heard there was some kind of incident there, maybe darkspawn-"
It was demons. Demons and abominations and innocent mages being trapped and left to die for no good reason other than that they might be a threat.
" - or something like that. But they're well on their way too fixing it up now. Gonna be some type of mage college or something."
Skies in the Fade… the Circle had survived? After all of that? How? How,how,how,how-
"Did you happen to hear how the incident was resolved?"
"Think that Scylla-witch was responsible. Wasted her time protecting the place when she should've been looking for the Archdemon."
Scylla…? Scylla… saved the Circle? The words form in their mind and burn through them like the sting of an errant crossbow bolt. Avery had been there. Inside the tower when it all started. All they could do was run - run with others they'd found and harbored through that entire ordeal.
They remember the chill of Lake Calenhad as the five of them plummeted into the water below. How their bones ached as they swam the length of it, the terror that gripped their heart as Claire, swollen with child, had clung to them weak and terrified.
When they made it to the other side they ran. Fought through droves of darkspawn, of hunger and exhaustion until at last they reached the boats north of Denerim that would take them to Kirkwall.
And yet Scylla... came back. She was free and she came back. Not only did she come back but she pushed through it all. Saved what was left when all they could do was run. She clawed her way through that contorted maze of abominations and betrayal - she became the hero of their nation - and there's no hate for her in their heart, there never could be - but the shame...
There's no words for the shame they felt. For all of the what-ifs that plagues them. They saved who they could but what if they'd tried harder? What if they'd stayed? What if they'd broken down that damn entrance and demanded Greagoir help them? What if -
What if they didn't have to watch Cullen change right before their eyes? What if they didn't have to know what the cut of his blade felt like? What if the scar on their arm didn't still tingle with the betrayal of someone they loved trying to take away their life? What if they didn't see his eyes, wild and crazed, when they shut their own? What if they didn't have to see his shadow lurking in alleyways and in the dark corners of their home? What if -
"Oi! You awright there, red? Look like you seen a ghost."
"Oh." How long had they been standing there? Their hands feel numb and their legs feel too heavy to move. "Just," they swallow deeply through the trembling in their fingertips, "just a lot to take in. I'll be going now."
Whatever either of the men might've said to them doesn't matter, their voices a distant echo as Avery turns to go, wading through the bar like a ghost and just as pale. Merrill catches their gaze as they approach and her brows knit together, her eyes wide and questioning, following Avery's every move as they slump into their seat at the end of the table.
"What's the matter, lethallin? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Feels like I am one." They sigh, lowering their voice to the table as their return draws the eyes of their group. "The Circle it's…"
Their eyes jump between Garrett, Bethany and Carver, watching their faces, "it's free now." A deeply furrowed brow, a sharp inhale and wide eyes greet them in response. "I guess Scylla must have asked for the mage's freedom in return for her part in ending the Blight."
"Your Scylla?" Bethany gapes. "The one we met in Redcliffe?The Grey Warden with the long, pretty hair? "
"The one and only." There's a measure of pride there, buried underneath all the hurt, knowing how far their friend had come - that she was alive. Skies above they wanted to see her again. Talk about everything that had happened.
"That's…" Bethany slumps in her seat. The table goes quiet and stays that way for some time until Bethany lets out a small, humorless laugh.
"You know it's funny… we spent our whole lives running from it. From that place. And just like that the fear of it is gone. And we're stuck here."
Stuck here where it is invariably worse.
"Even if we wanted to go back, we couldn't. We have no money, no home." Tears start to bubble in the girl's eyes and Avery's heart breaks for her, maybe even worse than it does for themselves.
Garrett loops an arm around his sister's shoulders, pulls her in tight as she buries her face in his side, her smile washed away by the pain of everything they'd lost. "We'll make it work, Bethy. We always have."
Avery watches as Carver glares down hard at his drink, full to bubbling over, a retort sitting on the tip of his tongue as he drives it hard against the roof of his mouth. They can't blame him. Not when his whole life had been spent in service to the secrecy and freedom of his siblings. Not when his life had never been truly his. They watch him open his mouth and know that whatever comes out of it they can't argue against.
"Man," as if watching the boy's wheels turn, Varric decides this would be an opportune time to open his own mouth, "this is starting to get really depressing. C'mon, another round of drinks on me. We can even toast it to that Scylla girl you all seem to love so much."
"I won't argue that." Isabela cheers. "We can toast to how good in bed she is too."
Avery's eyes just about explode out of their sockets, agony momentarily paused, as every single head at the table flips to stare at the pirate queen, with her raking in their stares, a sly grin on her face.
"What?" That grin only gets brighter. "I met her while I was in Denerim."
"So things proceeded as they naturally do with you, then?" Asks Fenris with an amused smirk on his face from beside Avery.
"If by that you mean we fucked, then yes."
Avery can't find it in themselves to be surprised. If there was ever a more likely coupling it would've been the two of them. Small world though, that was for certain.
"So you've got the Hero of Ferelden under your belt then too, ay?" Varric snirks. "Not too shabby, Rivaini."
"Shabby enough to deserve another drink, I think."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Varric snorts, scooting himself off the bench and plopping down onto the ground. As he passes them, Avery feels the gentle pat of his hand on their back.
"You want anything special, Avs?" And Avery knows well enough by now that it's his way of offering his sympathies. Without getting into all the mushy shit, as he would say.
Despite the rock sitting low in their chest, Avery manages a tired sliver of a smile. "Surprise me."
"One expired mead coming right up."
"Absolutely fuck you." Avery snorts as Varric ambles away with a loud bark of a laugh towards the front counter.
A warm, slender hand slides across the table, settling on their own. Merrill's sweet, round eyes, filled to the brim with a tender concern meet their own, exhausted ones.
"Are you alright, lethallin?" Her voice is quiet against the raucous of the pub.
Avery lets out a breath through their nose. "No." They shake their head. "No, I'm not but I will be."
"I'm sorry, Avery." She frowns. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just being here helps." Their thumb brushes against her hand tenderly, never mind how their heart thumps deep in their chest, as a smile works it's way over their lips - no matter how strained it is.
A hue of pink rises to her cheeks and if Avery were braver they'd tell her how cute a blush looks on her. "I can be here as much as you like."
"You've proven that time and time again, Mare." Was it not her who taught Avery and their ragtag group of runaways how to survive in the harsh wilderness of the Free Marches when they were denied entry into Kirkwall? Was it not her who followed them into the city when the Mage Underground pulled them into the fold? She owed them nothing and yet stuck by them all the same. For what, Avery would never understand, but they were eternally grateful for her kindness and friendship.
"It's the least I could do." Her hand lingers on Avery's, warm and soft and -
"Oh!" As if realizing what she had done, Merrill yanks her hand back and shoves it into her lap. "Sorry! Had my head in the clouds there."
"You're fine, Mare." The absence of her skin on theirs is a sobering thing - pulls them out of that lull of warmth they'd found. Plunges them straight back into the chatter of the pub, into the new world that was being formed across the sea while they ran away from it.
Drinks appear on the table, Varric chittering loudly as he returns to his seat. Everyone grabs a mug, even Avery, though the act of reaching for one feels almost mechanical, like someone's pulling a gear to make them do it over a conscious choice they're making.
"To Scylla, Hero of Ferelden."
Varric makes the toast, drinks go up, and the sound of metal clinking is less a celebratory chime and more a clunky clattering of regrets and choices made that could never be changed. The sound of a chapter closed, wet ink still on the page.
They couldn't say what the rest of the night was like. It went by like a blur, racing infront of them with no hope of them catching up. All they can think about is having to explain this to their flatmates when they get back. To the people they dragged across the country to come here to this place.
Will they hate them after this? They wouldn't blame them if they did. They were an enchanter - a teacher. They should've known better - it was their job to know better. The thought that they never could have known this would happen doesn't ease them. Doesn't erase what they'd dragged them through. Fields of darkspawn and hunger. Exhaustion so deep most of them slept the entirety of that boat ride to Kirkwall.
How do they tell them it was all for nothing? That if they'd just stayed they'd have a home and their freedom?
The thought consumes them, and before they know it the night is over. The table they always sit at becomes more and more empty. Avery follows after them as their friends one by one pick themselves up from their seats.
"Think I'm heading home." Avery says, watching everyone's faces, all etched into some degree of concern that they can't help ducking away from. "I'll see you all tomorrow."
"Get home safe, Avery!" Bethany, sweet as ever, calls as they disappear around the corner, but not before they return the sentiment.
Their boots crunch along the uneven ground, the foundation scuffed and cracking - not like the gently laid bricks that covered Hightown. Shadows watch them from the corners, shifty eyes sizing them up, trying to figure out if they're worth the fight for whatever pocket change they might be carrying. Usually just one look at the size of them - broad shoulders, huge arms - is enough to deter people from trying to make a meal ticket out of them; but it doesn't stop the odd idiot here and there from trying. Not that it ever ends well.
Chatter litters the streets this time of night. The drunk wailings of people stumbling out of the Hanged Man, whispers of back alley deals and the hurried shuffling of people just trying to make it home for the night. Out here, Avery can hear it clearly, feel the vibrations of the world around them. The way people bustle to and fro, the way that -
The way that a pair of feet follow almost silently behind them. Not shoes. Feet. Uncovered. The aura that hovers along is one they know well, like a tempered storm always on the cusp of picking up wind.
"Avery."
The feet stop when they do. They turn and find exactly who they were expecting, looming in their shadow just a few feet away. His face fills their vision, unreadable but with his brows knitted together in that way of his.
"Did you need something, Fen?"
"It's late." He says. "I thought you might want company on your walk home."
They blink at him a moment. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer but don't you have to hike it back to Hightown?"
"I'm not exactly in a rush to get back." He states, to which Avery can't very well blame him. They wouldn't be in a hurry to get back to the mansion owned by the man who kept them in slavery either.
"Suit yourself." Avery shrugs. "Might not be the best for conversation though."
"I wouldn't expect you to be." The recognition in his voice is… unexpected.
They know all too well how Fenris feels about mages as a general topic. They can't expect him to understand how they feel, and yet even if he doesn't, the look in his eyes seems to suggest he recognizes that they're hurt all the same.
"… thanks, Fen."
He joins them wordlessly, walks quietly by their side and they feel grateful for his silent company. That he's willing to just exist beside them. It's not the first time he's walked them home, sometimes it's after a job and always if they have Ethanaan with them, but usually their walks are a bit more chatty than this. Unsurprisingly though, the quiet doesn't bother Fenris, never has. If Avery had to venture a guess they'd say he prefers it this way.
He lingers close enough that their hands could brush and if Avery were more bold, they'd probably ask to hold his. The thought alone elicits a wave of flutter through their already twisted stomach but the mental image their own self depreciation conjures, one of him smacking their hand away, is enough to keep theirs firmly at their sides.
Avery, thankfully, doesn't live terrible far from the Hanged Man, and after some time, they arrive at their home. Shabby, with chipped paint and old wood but it was home. More of a home than the tower had ever been.
"Well, this is me. Thanks, Fen."
"Anytime."
Avery turns to go and just as their hand settles on the doorknob does he speak up again.
"For what it's worth I am… sorry."
They stop and turn to look at him, his gaze cast toward the ground.
"For what you went through and everything else." His gaze meets theirs again, intense and earnest in a way that draws their mouth into the slightest line of a smile.
"I appreciate it. See you tomorrow?"
A soft sliver of a smile. "If you should like."
"Always."
"Tomorrow then."
Their smile grows. "Get home safe."
He nods and turns on his way to go. Avery watches until he's out of sight, one hand on the doorknob and when he's gone they heave a breath, mentally preparing themselves for what's to come. They turn the knob and walk in, their legs heavy and their heart even heavier.
A chorus of greetings meets them as they walk through the door and they suppose it's one small blessing that everyone was still awake. They could get this over in one, gloomy sit down.
"Welcome home, Avery!" Daphne's all smiles when they cross the threshold, drinking tea with Claire at the table who cradles her son in her arms. It's a wonder how she stays so cheerful, being as young as she is and with all that's happened to her. A fresh eighteen year old, still an apprentice.
"I trust your outing was eventful?" Claire asks with a gentle look in her eyes, one that turns to concern as Avery's face drops at her question.
"What happened?"
Benni, always a man of few words and equally as unexpressive, looks up from the book he's reading, as if feeling the shift in the air.
"You didn't get into a fight with your girlfriend, did you?" Esrian asks at first with a teasing smile and then with an expression far less bright when he sees Avery's face.
"Don't have a girlfriend to get into a fight with." Avery sighs, lumbering towards the table. "Wish that was all it was."
"You know what I mean." Esrian scoffs as they sit down. "But, never mind that, what happened? You look like you got trampled by a horse."
"Were any of you… out at all today?" They ask, glancing around trepidatiously at the table. "Did you hear anything?"
"I mean we were out," Daphne says with a crooked eyebrow, "but I didn't hear anything different from the normal? Why?"
Avery sucks in a breath, tongue raking over the back of their teeth. "Right. Brilliant." They exhale and prepare themselves for the calamity to come. "The Blight it's,"
Everyone leans in by a fraction, all eyes trained on them in anticipation. "It ended. It's over. The Archdemon's been slain."
Silence.
Deafening silence.
"So that's it then." Benni grunts out.
"That's not all of it though…" oh, every bit of them feels cold and bursting with heat all at the same time, "the Circle is… the Circle's free. Scylla, our Scylla, slew the Archdemon and demanded freedom for the mages."
Silence.
Cutting silence.
"Wait! That means we can go home then, right?!" Daphne exclaims. "This is excellent news! We just hop a boat back to Ferelden and go home!"
"Daphne…" Claire's troubled gaze settles on her, holding baby Ethanaan close in her arms, "we'd likely be branded apostates if we tried to go back."
"Surely not if we just explained?" Daphne's excited expression starts to shift, the light in her eyes dimming.
"They were willing to lock us in there and leave us to die, Daph." Esrian huffs. "Just because the Circle is free doesn't mean all mages are. By virtue of it still existing means they still see mages as a people that need governing. And I don't know about you but I'm in no rush to go back to living in a tower in the middle of a damn lake."
Tears bubble in Daphne's eyes, her lower lip quivering.
"They said something about making it a college." Avery adds. "I couldn't get all the details but if… if I can get in contact with Scylla I'm sure I could find out more. See if at least some of us could go back."
"Some?" Benni asks with a leveled stare.
"I…" Avery sighs, "I can't go back. Not after what happened; and there's work to do here. But I won't ask that you all follow me a second time. Not… not after everything I put you all through."
"We survived 'cos of you, yeah?"
Something lurches in Avery's stomach, warm but ugly and biting. A refusal to accept it.
"Well, I'm not going back." Esrian huffs, turning his nose up. "Kirkwall might be one plucked arsehair away from exploding but at least I have a life here."
"We could have a life if we go back to Ferelden!" Daphne argues, wiping tears from her eyes.
"What life? The place is in tatters anyway."
"Esrian." Avery cuts in with a sharp glare, effectively silencing the elf as he pouts and crosses his arms. "If Daphne wants to go back and it's safe to go back, she's allowed."
Daphne looks at them with her big, watery eyes and their heart breaks for her. She was too young to have to know this heartbreak. "You mean it?"
"Of course." Avery slowly nods. "Let me get all the information first, though. Okay?"
"Okay." She sniffs. "Thank you, Avery."
"You're welcome."
A lull falls over the home. Anxious and shifting.
"Well," Claire starts, "we should all get some rest, I think. We'll process this all better in the morning once we've had some rest."
"Sleep would be good right about now." Avery breathes. "Do you need any help with Ethie, Claire?"
"If you could put him down in his cradle while I clean up my tea that would be lovely." Avery stands and walks over to take the baby into their arms. His little, round face stares up at them with such awe and glee, tiny hands reaching for them as he burbles excitedly. The smile that spreads over their face looking at him is involuntary and infectious.
Avery glances up at the rest of their flatmates, "goodnight everyone. See you in the morning," and turns to head to the room they shared with Claire and Daphne, just the slightest bit larger than the one Esrian and Benni shared.
They cross to the wooden cradle by Claire's bed and with the utmost care, they lay the babe in their arms down in it. His little hands reach for their face, lightly grabbing their nose and their cheeks, drawing a soft chuckle out of them. If they needed cheering up they could always count on the little one to make them smile.
"Yes, that's my nose," Avery coos as his tiny little hand clutches around it, "it's pretty big, huh?"
Ethanaan opens his mouth wider, laughing as if he'd understood them.
"Ouch," Avery laughs back, "you're not supposed to agree with me, Ethie."
He just giggles more, kicking his feet and patting their nose, as if trying to push it back into their face.
"You've been spending too much time with Esrian. A baby shouldn't be this snarky."
Another round of giggles as they move their face out of grabbing range. "Alright, bed time for the sassy baby."
They sit down next to the cradle, place their hand on his belly and open their mouth to sing. As the sound comes out, a tender vibration emanates from the palm of their hand, surrounding and soothing the young boy.
Forests green and white
To your little eyes one day
Will be a beautiful sight
Where the druffalo roam
And the soil is loam
Where the flowers grow
And the river flows
All this will be
A perfect delight
To such little eyes
It's a lullaby from their childhood that they cobbled together from vibrations and the hands of their father reciting the words their mother would sing to them while they were in the womb. They weave in tenderness into every vowel, tangible, like a warm blanket wrapped around the shoulders. That magic wisps around baby Ethanaan, drawing his eyes slowly closed. It is in these moments where all of their mistakes, their flaws, even their triumphs and strengths become inconsequential. To know they can do this much to make this child feel safe and at ease, is enough for them.
By the time they hum out that last little note, baby Ethanaan is fast asleep, breathing peacefully where he lays. Avery let's their magic settle and slowly, ever so slowly, do they pull their hand away from the slumbering tot.
The door behind them opens with a gentle creak and from behind it appears Daphne and the boy's mother, smiling tenderly down at them."He does always love when you sing to him, doesn't he?"
"I guess he does, huh?" It's a point of pride for them, a small ember though it may be.
"It's the only way to get him down some nights." Claire affirms, making her way over to the cradle, peering down at her son. "Oh," the love in her eyes when she looks upon him never fails to make Avery's chest warm, "he's just precious, isn't he?"
"The cutest." Daphne grins from behind them, looking over Claire's shoulder.
They all linger there for a moment in perfect silence, just watching him. Avery still remembers what his arrival into this world had been like, birthed onto the only clean piece of cloth they had in the middle of the wilderness. They'd been so scared then. All the books in the world that they'd read could never prepare them for the real thing but they'd pushed through - Claire pushed through. She got to keep her child, unlike so many other mage mothers.
Would they let her keep Ethanaan if she went back to Ferelden? The thought makes them uneasy, not knowing, and so they make a note to add that to their list of questions if they can find Scylla and get in contact with her.
"Now," Claire pipes up, standing up straight, "to bed with us. Before he wakes up."
Avery wants to ask what her plans are. What she intends to do if it's safe to go back. From the conversation earlier it didn't seem like she was all too confident in returning but… well…
They suppose it'll have to wait. There's no sense launching the discussion without answers and possibly distressing her or Daphne once more.
Avery climbs into bed, their thoughts racing. While Daphne and Claire sleep easy, it takes them what feels like hours to settle.
There's so many things that plague their mind. Just how many people had survived Uldred's uprising? What was this new order for the mages? How could they enforce their freedoms against a massive system like the Chantry?
Had… had Cullen lived after all? After all that?
And Anders… their Anders… where was he? Would he go back to the Circle under the new order? Their gut tells them no. He wouldn't trust something like that; and beyond that, if mages were free to live beyond the tower then he would. Could he go back home? To the place of his namesake? It's a rotten chance they'd let him but that wouldn't stop him from trying to see his mother. Or Karl for that matter.
Would they… would they ever see him again? It was a thought that plagued them when they escaped, as they settled into Kirkwall. They tried not to think about it but their mind always inevitably wandered to where he was. What he was doing. If he was alive somewhere.
A tear drips down their cheek as they close their eyes. Skies above, how they missed him. If they could ask for anything it would be that he was alive and healthy - happy, even.
Avery heaves a shaky breath as they shut their eyes tight, their chest clenching painfully as they draw in on themselves.
If he could be happy, they'd learn to be okay with never seeing them again.
Even if the pain in their chest tells them otherwise.