The first time he saw her was his first day in Highever.
Hutch was only fourteen when he became a squire under Teyrn Cousland’s command. The knights were giving their usual speeches to the new squires, listing the requirements and expectations of the future knights, and Hutch stood next to a particularly tall young man with ragged blond hair. Hutch was listening to the knights with interest when the blond-haired squire nudged him with his elbow. Hutch looked to him and the young man raised both eyebrows, nodding his head towards the opposite end of the courtyard. Hutch’s eyes followed the indicated direction to find a small group of young men about their age, possibly older. They did not appear to be squires, however; their robes bore a noble significance. If Hutch had to guess, it was the Teryn’s eldest son and his friends.
With the Teryn’s son stood a young woman. Her dress lined her developed curves and a thick long, jet-black braid lay over her shoulder. Her face was full, her skin a perfect shade of pale, and her eyes seemed to sparkle even from the distance. She was watching the group of squires. Her eyes swept over the new faces, a light grin playing on her face. Next to Hutch, the tall knight was raising his eyebrow, obviously trying to catch her eye. He managed to succeed, for her grin spread wider and she shook slightly, as if she was laughing at his face. Clearly, the new squires amused her.
And then her eyes flicked to Hutch. He could not help but catch her gaze. Her wide grin fell into a soft smile and she stared at him, arching an eyebrow. He blinked. He didn’t know what to do. He knew he needed to be watching the knight instructing them, but he could not tear his eyes away from the young woman. She grabbed the edge of her braid and gently played with the tips of her hair, twirling it around her fingers. Her gaze finally left him when the Teryn’s son turned and spoke to her. Hutch’s eyes lingered on her even after she had turned her attention from him, until finally he managed to snap back into reality. By the time he refocused on the knight before them, he had missed half of the speech.
Hutch spent the next eighteen years of his life as a Knight of Highever. He became best friends and brothers-in-arms with the blond-haired knight from the first day, Rowan, and together they served the Teryn family. They were lead by the Teryn’s eldest son, Fergus. As a consequence, they often saw the Teryn’s daughter, who had grown into a fighter of her own. Her name was Carmen.
Ever since the first day as a squire, Hutch could not keep himself from looking at her whenever he was in her presence. Something about her drew his attention. She was stunning, clever, a strong fighter, and nearly perfect in every way. They hardly ever spoke. Carmen was a Cousland; Hutch was but a knight. Their paths never crossed, except on rare occasions. Even still, Hutch found himself relishing in the small moments together. Passing by in the hallways. Carmen stopping him to ask if he had seen her brother. Catching her gaze in the courtyard.
In no time at all, Hutch fell in love with her.
Hutch never expressed his feelings. Not to her, not to any other knights, not even to Rowan - who, naturally, figured it out on his own. Rowan encouraged him to tell her how he felt. Hutch refused. His love was unrequited, he knew that. He knew they could never be. His status of a knight was just that. He could never hope to be anything but a knight. And so he forced himself to be content with the fact that the woman he loved could never know exactly how much he loved her.
Rowan and Hutch became well-revered among the Knights of Highever. They showed impeccable skill, determination, and tactical abilities, catching the eye of the Teryn Cousland himself. One year he recruited the boys to guard him and his caravan on his trip to Denerim. On the road back, the caravan was seized by a group of darkspawn. The men fought valiantly and skilled half the darkspawn before managing to get the Teryn to safety. Teyrn Cousland was grateful for their bravery and impressed with their skill, and thus named them his personal bodyguards. They were honored to accept their new positions.
The nation of Thedas fell under attack. Darkspawn were once again rising from the depths of the Deep Roads, signifying the beginning of the Fourth Blight. King Cailan had called Teryn Cousland and his men to fight against the blight at Ostagar. Rendon Howe of Amaranthine was awaiting the arrival of his men to join Teryn Cousland on their trip to Ostagar. Howe’s men fell under some kind of delay, however, and would not be there until the next day. Not wanting to keep King Cailan’s men waiting, the Teryn sent his men out with his eldest son, Fergus. Hutch and Rowan were left behind with the Teryn and would travel with him when Howe’s men finally arrived.
That night, screams pierced through the walls of the estate. Hutch fled out of bed, sword in hand, and opened his door to find bloodied men lying in the hall. Armored soldiers cut through the guards right before his eyes. One of the men pulled their sword from the body of a guard and turned to see Huch, half-dressed and a sword in hand. He charged. Hutch quickly side-stepped and batted away the incoming sword, slicing the man down his back. He fell with a scream. Another man came at Hutch. The soldier sliced in a horizontal angle and Hutch blocked the blow. He sliced a long cut along the man’s sword arm, causing him to drop his weapon. With a quick thrust, the man crumpled to the ground. The hall was clear for the moment.
Hutch knelt by the fallen guard. These men were clearly not darkspawn, so who were they? He grabbed the shield of the fallen soldier and flipped it over. The crest of Rendon Howe lay across the shield. Howe’s men? They were delayed. Unless..
Hutch had to find the Teryn.
He took off. Hutch fought his way to the castle, taking the routes less occupied by Howe’s men. He encountered several groups of guards fighting back, but one by one they fell to Howe’s men. He did not see Rowan anywhere. If he knew his friend, then Rowan was making his way up to the Teryn’s room as well. Eventually he made it to the hallway connecting the Cousland’s rooms. Bloodied bodies lay in the hallway - Howe’s men. Hutch’s eyes immediately shifted to the open door on his left. Carmen’s room.
He ran to her room. It was empty. Hutch did not know whether or not to breathe a sigh of relief. Carmen was a good fighter. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the one who left the bodies in the hallway. Hutch quickly hurried to the Teryn’s room to find it empty as well. Hopefully Carmen had taken her parents to safety. Hutch didn’t even want to think of the other possibility.
The main hall. There might be people there, if anyone. It was a well-protected spot; Howe’s men would get there last. If anyone was still alive, they would be there. Hutch silently took off, making his way towards the main hall, praying to the Maker that at least Carmen was still alive.
Howe’s men left no survivors. Bodies of men and women lay about the castle, slain whether they were armed or not. If Hutch saw Howe again, he would end his life where he stood.
Hutch jogged around a corridor and halted. At the other end of the long hall, Ser Gilmore and his men were engaged in a battle with Howe’s men. They were fighting their way to the main hall as well. Hutch took off down the hall to join the fight.
Pain shot through his leg. He let out an agonized yell and tumbled to the ground. He quickly rolled to his feet, grunting. Archers stood at the other end of the hall. He glanced down to see an arrow protruding from either side of his leg. Andraste’s Breath, it hurt. Hutch had to shrug off the pain though. He had to keep going. He had to find the Couslands.
He ran back to the end of the hall, dodging another set of arrows, and engaged the archers. They threw their bows aside and drew their swords. He made quick work of first archer and turned to the second. Their swords clanged, drowned out by the sounds of the battle going on at the other end of the hall. The man was a skilled swordsman, for Hutch could hardly land a blow. He knocked Hutch’s sword aside and thrust. Hutch barely had time to step out of the way. The sword missed his torso, but sliced a long cut up his left forearm. He bit back the searing pain and parried another incoming blow. Howe’s soldier kept throwing swing after swing, and Hutch had no room to make an offensive move. The man was wearing him out. He was losing a lot of blood, and for a moment, he thought this might be his last battle.
The soldier stopped moving. His sword slipped out of his hand, falling to the ground with a deft clunk and the man followed suit. He slumped to the ground, an arrow sticking through his head. Hutch cursed, surprised by the arrow.
He looked to where the arrow had come from. Running down the hallway was the most beautiful sight his battle-worn eyes have ever seen. Carmen. Hutch smiled. She was alive. She was a live and she saved him.
Suddenly, the world began to spin. His leg gave out under him and he pitched forward. A pair of arms caught him on his descent to the ground, lowering him gently. When he regained his focus, Carmen was crouching next to him, propping him up against the wall.
He wanted to touch her face. He wanted to tell her how glad he was that she was alive. But even when he was bleeding to death in the midst of battle, he kept his emotions in check. “Car--My Lady, are you all right?”
“I am better than you look, that’s for certain,” she said, lighthearted despite the sounds of men dying in the distance. She looked down and saw his left arm was all but covered in his blood. The arrow still ran through his right leg, blood dripping from the wound. “Hold still,” she commanded, then proceeded to rip strips of cloth off her tunic.
“No, My Lady, do not concern yourself with me. We have to get you to safety--“
“Hush,” she said sternly, staring at him in the eye. He closed his mouth. She began to wrap the pieces of cloth around his bleeding arm. “Have you seen my father?”
Hutch shook his head. A look of dismay ran across her face, but she quickly pushed it aside.
“I have been all over this castle in search of him. If he is anywhere, he will be with Ser Gilmore in the main hall.” Hutch nodded his head down the hallway. The battle had moved its way into the main hall.
Carmen nodded. She tied off the cloth, then moved down to his leg. She broke off the end of the arrow, then looked up to him. “Are you ready?”
Hutch took in a deep breath, then nodded. She pulled the arrow out.
“Maker--!” Hutch cursed under his breath. He held back his agonized yell, his fist clenching. Carmen immediately began to tie the cloth around his bleeding leg.
A woman rounded the corner. She looked like the older version of Carmen, but with much less blood in her silver hair. “Carmen, more men are approaching. We must go.”
The Teryna’s daughter looked up at Hutch. “Can you walk?”
He nodded. She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. He grunted, grimacing.
An arrow soared by the Teyrna’s face. Hutch’s hand shot out and grasped her arm, pulling her further into the hallway. “Go, find Ser Gilmore,” he told the women. He moved in front of them to peer around the corner. Nearly a dozen men approached.
“There is no time!” He whipped around to look at Carmen. Their gazes met. “I will hold them off. Go!”
Carmen paused. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mother grabbed her arm. “Maker be with you,” the Teryna said. She pulled her daughter along, and with one final look, Carmen ran off.
Hutch took in a deep breath. He pressed himself against the wall, hidden by the corner. The sound of footsteps grew closer. He tightened his grip the handle of his sword.
He sliced the first body to appear. By the time they realized he was there, he had taken down three men. They swarmed him a moment later. A fist smashed against his face, and he blacked out.
Hutch should have been dead.
Then why did it feel like someone was carrying him?
His eyes dragged open. Dark gray fabric pressed against his face. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, and when he looked up, he saw the ground. He was slung over a man’s shoulder, walking through what he assumed was the woods. Howe’s men must have taken him captive. Why, he didn’t know - they had slaughtered everyone else they came across. Maybe they thought he knew where the Teryn was. If they hadn’t found the Teryn, then Carmen might have made it out...
Everything hurt. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he refused to be captured by the traitorous Howe. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep breath. Using whatever energy he had left, he shifted in the man’s arms and sent his knee into his face. The man grunted and stumbled. Hutch rolled off his shoulder and slammed against ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his right leg almost giving out on him, then threw a punch. The man dodged the incoming fist. Hutch, as weak as he was, could not stop his momentum and he pitched forward. The man dove forward and caught him. He was about to aim a punch to the man’s abdomen, but a familiar voice stopped him. “Brother, calm yourself!”
“....Rowan?” Hutch looked up to see the bloodied face of his best friend. A fresh stream of blood dripped from his nose.
“This is the thanks I get for saving you? Bloody hell, remind me to never do that again.”
“I thought - I thought you were…” Hutch’s voice trailed off and he sagged in Rowan’s arms. “Put… put me down.”
Rowan did as such, propping him up against a tree. Hutch looked down to see the bandages around his wounds were soaked in dark red blood. He was still losing blood. Rowan did a quick inspection of his wounds. “You owe your life to whoever did your bandages. You should have bled out before I heroically saved you from a hundred of Howe’s men.”
Hutch didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes. “What happened? Did you find the Teryn?”
Rowan’s face fell. He sat on the ground, draping his arm over his knee. “I couldn’t get past Howe’s men to the main hall. There were too many of them. The castle was surrounded. Howe’s men would have surely broken through by now.”
Hutch’s heart sank into his stomach. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling quite dry. “Did you see anyone else? Ser Gilmore? The Teryna, or…”
Rowan shook his head. “As far as I know, we are the only ones who made it out alive.”
Hutch ran his hand over his mouth. Suddenly he felt very weak, as if a part of his soul had been ripped from him. He didn’t want to believe it. They had to make it out alive. She couldn’t be…
“We have to go back,” Hutch suddenly said. He began to stand up, but Rowan shoved him to the ground.
“Do you have a death wish? Howe’s men took the castle. Going back would be suicide--”
“If anyone is alive, we must save them. We have to save the Couslands. We can’t just--”
“If anyone if was left, there are surely dead by now, brother. There would be no one to save.”
Hutch stared at him. Rowan was right. If anyone was there when Howe’s men took the castle, then they would have been killed. Howe’s men made it clear they would leave no survivors. He closed his eyes, head falling into his hands. His hands were shaking.
“I am sorry, brother,” Rowan said quietly. They sat in silence after that.
After some time had passed, Hutch finally stirred. He ran his hands through his blood-caked hair and looked at Rowan. His eyes were glossed over, a red tint lined around his eyes. He took in a deep breath, attempting to keep himself from crying. Rowan patiently waited for him to collect himself.
“We have to go to Ostagar,” Hutch suddenly announced.
Rowan wouldn’t even consider it. “No. We are going to Amaranthine.”
“That is where Fergus and his men went. King Cailan will be there to fight the Blight. We have to lend our skills--”
“You will be dead by the time I drag your butt to Ostagar. Amaranthine is the nearest city. We go there. I lost a lot of men today - like hell I’m going to lose you, too.”
Hutch opened his mouth, then closed it. Rowan was right. He would never survive a trip to Ostagar. It was months away just on horseback. Hutch gritted his teeth. “You are a stubborn sod.”
Rowan nodded, a victorious grin on his face. Helping his friend to a stand, he leant him support, and together, the men made their way to Amaranthine.
They barely made it to the city in time. There, they sought a week’s refuge, ensuring Hutch had enough time to regain his strength. While there, word came on the battle of Ostagar. King Cailan’s men didn’t stand a chance. They were slaughtered by the darkspawn, and the King perished. The kingdom had lost it’s king.
A new proclamation by Loghain Mac Tir swept the kingdom. He blamed the Gray Wardens for the death of King Cailan, claiming they were traitors to the king. If any Gray Wardens were alive, they were to be arrested on sight. Hutch thought this claim to be odd, for the Gray Wardens had always fought for the kingdom, not against it. Rowan expressed the same concern, but they kept their thoughts to themselves.
With Ostagar taken by the Darkspawn, the men decided to head to Denerim. There, they could lend their services to the knights of Denerim, and hopefully aid in the fight against the Blight.
In the preceding months in Denerim, rumors floated around town about a small band of warriors lead by a Gray Warden were gathering all the forces of Ferelden to fight against the Blight. If the rumors were true, then Ferelden had a fighting chance against the darkspawn. Another rumor spoke of one of the Gray Wardens being King Cailan’s illegitimate brother, making him the heir to the throne. Loghain refuted the claims, but a part of Hutch hoped they were true. He didn’t trust Loghain, and if this Gray Warden was attempting to fight the Blight, then he might be Ferelden’s best chance.
Not a day went by that he didn’t think of Carmen. It pained him to think that she didn’t survive the attack on Highever. He prayed to the Maker that, by some small chance, she made it out alive. But he knew the chances were slim, and over the months, the pain dissolved into a numb ache. Despite the broken heart, he pressed on. Ferelden was at war. He had to focus on the Blight, no matter how much he wished to see Carmen again.
The Landsmeet was called. The leaders of Ferelden were called to Denerim, where they were going to discuss claims against Loghain. Word spoke of Arl Eamon travelling with the Gray Wardens with intention of dethroning Loghain and his daughter to put the rumored heir on the throne. Many people had mixed emotions regarding this rumor; some men wished to see the queen consort dethroned, while most were dismayed by the very idea of a new king. Hutch fell somewhere near the middle. He was mostly concerned with giving his aid to help fight the Blight. As long as whoever ruled the throne would be capable of fighting against the Darkspawn, he would be content.
His opinion on the matter would change drastically in the next few days.
Arl Eamon arrived at his estate in Denerim. Being good friends with Rowan and Hutch’s superior, Sir Wymore, they were asked to lend their services to the Arl and ensure no attempts were made on his life. So the two men were given charge of security at the estate. They saw a myriad of unusual sights upon their first day there - a fairly menacing quinari, a scantily-clad witch of the wilds, a drunken dwarf, and even a young woman who, at first glance, looked to be a man. Apparently, this band of misfits had been travelling with the Wardens throughout the Kingdom in attempt to create an army to fight the Blight.
The second day, Rowan and Hutch stood in the large center room of the estate. They were speaking of rotation schedules when their ears picked up the faint sound of a conversation trailing down the hall. Arl Eamon’s voice could be heard, among a few others. Rowan stopped talking and turned his head, obviously attempting to listen. Hutch punched his shoulder and gave him a stern look. They were knights, not spies. They had no right to listen. Hutch tried to carry on, but even he could not help overhear the conversation.
“There is yet much to be done. You will have to lay the groundwork with the nobles if we wish to have the Landsmeet fall in our favor.”
“And by ‘fall in our favor’, you mean ‘make me King’? Does no one care that I never asked to be that?” an unfamiliar voice spoke. It must have belonged to the Gray Warden rumored of royal blood.
“It is your birthright, Alistair,” Arl Eamon countered, “You deserve the throne, not Anora.”
“Please talk some sense into him. You know me - I would be a terrible king. He just doesn’t seem to get it,” said Alistair.
“To be honest, I think you would make a fine king,” a third voice spoke. A woman. The voice struck Hutch as familiar, almost hauntingly so. He could not place the face with the voice, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it belonged to someone of significant importance to him.
Alistair’s voice groaned. “Yes, all right, that’s fine, let’s dethrone the woman who has been queen consort for years to make way for a bastard son who has not a clue of running a kingdom. That won’t go wrong at all.”
“We do not have time for this,” Arl Eamon said. “We must prepare for the Landsmeet. Not only must you meet with the banns and lords, but there has been some unrest in the Alienage that I wish for you to tend to.”
The voices began to grow louder. Three pairs of boots echoed through the hallway, heading in the direction of the room where Rowan and Hutch stood. Through the doorway appeared the Arl with two Gray Wardens. The dirty-blond haired man was obviously Alastair, an unpleasant scowl formed on his face. Behind them, the second Gray Warden stepped through.
The second Gray Warden was a woman of significantly shorter height than the two others, but she carried a presence that outweighed even the most noble of men. She had perfect ivory skin, offset by her sleek raven-colored hair, which was swept up into a braided bun. Once upon a time her full face had nary a flaw on it; now, it was battle-warn, the scars telling the tales of her past year in battle. Despite her weather-worn features, her beauty shined through.
Hutch had all but given up hope of ever seeing her again. He had thought she perished in the raid upon her family home, but there she was, alive and carrying an air of the utmost importance. Hutch thought his heart stopped upon seeing her. He stared at her intently, unable to focus on anything but her. Rowan noticed his face and raised an eyebrow, nudging him slightly. The blond knight turned to follow Hutch’s gaze, and that was when he saw the woman they had grown up with. He muttered a surprised curse.
“Anora believes the current unrest in the Alienage is the cause of her father,” Arl Eamon continued, completely unaware of the two knights in the room. He continued on to give a brief explanation to the Wardens of the problems in the Alienage. Halfway through, Carmen’s eyes wandered from Arl Eamon throughout the room, sweeping past the two knights. She suddenly paused, eyes snapping back to Hutch.
He was staring at her. She looked confused for a moment, but then a wave of recognition washed over her face. Her eyes widened as she stared at Hutch. She remembered him. They held each other’s gaze intently, both remembering times long passed. Carmen then realized both Alistair and Arl Eamon were staring at her.
“Are you all right?” They asked. She blinked and snapped her eyes back to Alistair. She smiled easily.
“Yes, of course. We will see to the Alienage immediately,” she said. With a satisfied nod, Arl Eamon returned to his quarters.
“We should go gather the others,” Alistair said. He laid a hand on Carmen’s shoulder and sighed, gently running it down the length of her arm. Carmen smiled warmly to him, but her eyes flickered to the knight at the bottom of the stairs. Hutch had yet to look away. Alistair turned his attention to where Carmen stared, seeing the two knights. Hutch finally broke his gaze from Carmen and returned it to Rowan, his face impassive. Alistair watched them for a moment before he put a hand on Carmen’s back and lead down the stairs and out of the room. Carmen’s eyes followed Hutch until the moment they disappeared through the door.
“Are you well, brother?” Rowan asked with some concern.
“She’s alive,” Hutch whispered. He inhaled deeply through his nose, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. The smile died, however, when he thought about the way Alistair had touched her. He cleared his throat. “Come, we have duties to attend to.” With that, they returned to their work.
Over the next few days, Hutch was noticeably in better spirits. He performed his duties as normal and no one noticed his change in mood except Rowan, who would catch him smiling softly whenever he saw the sight of a dark-haired woman turning a corner or passing by a hallway. Hutch, however, made no attempt to speak to the Warden, but made the effort to extricate himself from the room whenever she entered. While the sight of her alive filled his heart with joy, the sight of her with the soon-to-be-king Gray Warden equally filled it with sorrow.
One evening, Rowan and Hutch entered the dining hall for the knights. There was little space to sit at the long tables, save for one area at the end of the first one. A lone young man sat at the edge, quietly minding his own dinner. Being the only open area with two seats, Rowan and Hutch moved to that end.
The young man glanced up at them as they approached. “May we?” Hutch politely asked. Before they could receive an answer, Rowan plopped down in the seat and dug into his food. Hutch sighed with exasperation. The young man shrugged and nodded. Inclining his head, Hutch took a seat next to his friend. The young man returned to his food.
As they ate, Hutch could not help studying the young warrior. He was neither knight nor guard; the light, flexible armor bearing no crest easily showed as much. Hutch knew every man under his watch in the estate, and this young man certainly was not one of them. He must have been part of the group that traveled with the wardens.
Something was unusual about the young man. He had clipped brown hair and a soft, almost feminine-like face despite the battle-worn lines that spoke of years of hardship. It was odd to say, Hutch thought that the warrior might have been… a woman. In fact, the more Hutch inspected the young man, the more he began to wonder if it truly was a woman.
Suddenly, the warrior met Hutch’s gaze. He was caught staring. They watched each other for a moment, the low din of men eating enveloping them.
“I’m used to it,” the young man - or, rather, woman, spoke. While she looked and dressed like a man, her voice fell more on the feminine side. There was no doubt in Hutch’s mind this was a girl.
Hutch looked at her with confusion. “I’m afraid I do not follow,” he said.
“The staring. I’m used to it. Everyone stares when they realize I’m a woman.”
Rowan finally looked up from his nearly empty plate of food..
“I apologize for my rudeness,” Hutch dipped his head.
The woman shrugged. “It’s okay. Like I said - used to it.”
Rowan glanced between his friend and the woman, both intrigued and confused.
Hutch watched her for another moment. “Are you one of the warriors that was traveling with the wardens?”
The young woman nodded. “Been with them since Lothering.”
“You are Silme, are you not?”
Hutch’s question caught her off guard. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “How did you...?”
“Sir Wymore told me about you,” he said, smiling softly. “A friend of his sent word you were with the wardens. He wanted me to confirm you were alive and well.”
For a brief moment, her lips creased in a smile. She looked back down to her food and prodded her meat. From the conversation Hutch had with Sir Wymore, he gathered the Advisor and this young woman had an extensive history together. By the way Sir Wymore’s eyes lit up when he spoke about her, he cared deeply for the young woman. He would be happy to know she was alive.
“You’re a woman?” Rowan suddenly spoke next to him.
“Welcome to the conversation,” Silme responded, voice laden with sarcasm. Hutch had to hide his amusement.
“Silme… I heard your name before. A few years back, when I was assigned a detail to Denerim. The guards spoke of a woman with that name.”
The young woman’s face dropped into an emotionless mask. She seemed to know precisely what he was talking about.
“You tried out to be a guard, didn’t you?”
“I was a guard,” she corrected him.
“Do not be upset that you couldn’t handle it; there are men twice as strong as you who do not continue on.” he assured her, earnestly attempting to be of help. Hutch noticed her jaw tightening. “Being a guard can be dangerous at times, and it truly requires a larger man. I must add that they are nowhere as well-trained as our knights, but a guard of Denerim is still an honorable position. You should count yourself fortunate to even be allowed to try out--”
Rowan was cut off by the fist smashing into his jaw. In a blink of an eye, Silme stood out of her chair and landed a clean uppercut under the knight’s chin and sent him backwards. He tipped over the bench and slammed his back on the ground, legs sticking up in the air. He let out an angered curse, scrambling to his feet. He lunged at the table, but Hutch was there to intercept him with a hand on his chest.
“Rowan, she passed out,” Hutch calmly informed him.
Rowan blinked. Both men turned their attention to the table. Silme’s body was sprawled across the top, body completely limp. The whole room had gone quiet now and had their eyes trained on the unmoving woman. Rowan grumbled, but he made no move to retaliate. Hutch released him and moved to the table to inspect the young woman.
Just then, two people hurried into the dining hall. They immediately found Silme and rushed over to her, not looking particularly concerned over her limp state.
“What happened?” a redheaded woman asked, voice heavily suggesting Orlesian origins.
“She punched me,” Rowan grumbled, touching his nose. Blood dripped out of his nostrils.
“That’s our Silme,” the smaller, slender elf chuckled. His own dialect sounded like it was from Antiva. He seemed amused by the situation, whereas the redheaded woman held mild concern.
“Well, grab her and bring her back to the room with us, Zevran. We will have to tell her when she returns to normal, then we can plan the rescue.”
“Rescue?” Hutch asked. “Has someone been taken?”
The woman nodded solemnly. “The Gray Wardens have been arrested and sentenced to execution.”
“Arrested? On what charge?” Rowan spoke the words before Hutch had the chance.
“We cannot waste any more time talking to guards. We must go,” Zevran prompted, Silme now slung over his shoulder. The Orlesian woman nodded, and with a curt apology, the three hurried out of the room.
Hutch stared after them. Carmen had been taken. He needed to get to her. He needed to find her--
A hand grasped his arm. He broke out of his trance to see Rowan holding him in place. He hadn’t even realized he tried to leave. “They will find her, Brother. There is nothing we can do but return to our work.”
Hutch inhaled deeply. He wanted to be in there with them, figuring out a way to help Carmen. But Rowan was right: he was just a knight set in charge of security at the estate. If they wanted his help, they would call for him. And they weren’t going to want his help. All he could do is sit back and pray to the Maker that Carmen’s group knew what they were doing.
Work broke through the estate that the Gray Wardens had escaped Fort Drakon. No one was more relieved than Hutch.
Several times he came close to seeking her out, to see for himself if she was all right. But each and every time he stayed himself. He was a fool for thinking he was allowed to barge in on the Gray Warden and speak with her. She most likely didn’t even know who he was, let alone wish to speak with him. So kept his relief to himself and dove into his duties in hopes of finding a distraction.
He found it very hard not to think about her.
Especially on the night before the landsmeet.
It was late into the night, the estate quiet save for the few guards remaining. Hutch sat in one of the weapons rooms, hunched over a bundle of cloth in his lap. His pants had ripped down along the seam, and Hutch was attempting to repair them. With the war against the Blight approaching, the army could not afford to be replacing knight’s pants whenever they tear, and so in an attempt to save money and valuable resources, Hutch would sew them himself. His sisters had taught him the basics of sewing when he was a boy, and he remembered enough to sew a seam together. The pants were proving to be much more difficult than he had anticipated, however, and he poked his finger more times than he wished. He would curse under his breath, squint his eyes, and continue on, not letting a simple needle get the best of him.
He paused. The voice was all too familiar; it was a voice he had been attempting to avoid for several weeks. Slowly, he turned over his shoulder to see the Gray Warden standing in the doorway. The knight in the back of his mind reminded him of the proper protocol when a woman - especially one of higher standing than oneself - entered the room, but Hutch remained in his seat, unable to move or speak.
She examined him for a moment, a faint smile flickering on her lips. She stepped into the room, moving around the bench he sat upon. “It is you. You survived the attack on Highever - I thought..”
Hutch finally found the words to speak. “Gray Warden,” he greeted, rising to a stand. He left his sewing on the bench. He gave her a small bow. She seemed unconcerned with the formality.
“I thought I was the only one who made it out alive,” she said, stopping a few feet in front of him.
She tilted her head slightly. “We?... Rowan. So he made it out too. I’m pleased to hear I’m not the only one. Did anyone else…?”
“No,” he said softly. As far as they knew, they were the only survivors from the attack. She frowned softly, but nodded. That was nearly a year ago. There were other pressing matters to be concerned about.
They stood in silence for a moment. Hutch attempted to look elsewhere, but his eyes kept meeting her hazel gaze. She smiled softly at him, and he found himself briefly matching her smile.
“So.. Commander of Security. You have come a long way since the scrawny squire I remember all those years ago,” she said, grinning slightly.
He raised an eyebrow. “You have not remained the same, either, Gray Warden.”
She laughed slightly. “Touche, Ser Knight. Sometimes I wonder how I got myself into this position. My father certainly would not have agreed to anything like this. In fact, he didn’t, at first.” The amusement in her face died briefly at the mention of her father, eyes glancing down. Their passing obviously still weighed on her.
“I can think of no greater person to lead us against the Blight,” Hutch genuinely spoke. Their gazes met and she smiled softly, then noticed the crumbled clothing on the bench. “Are you attempting to repair your clothes?”
He glanced back at the pants. “Yes, but not with great success.”
“Allow me,” she offered. She held out her hand, “I can mend them for you. Between the training and hanging around the knights, I used to make my own clothes. My mother even used to tell me I must have been a seamstress in a past life, for all the women would ask me to--”
Carmen was cut off by the hand grasping her own. Hutch had reached out and slowly wrapped his fingers around her outstretched hand. She looked up to him, slightly surprised by the informal action. He just looked down at their hands, his fingers gently caressing her skin.
“You do not know how pleased I am to see you,” he spoke. His voice was quiet, genuine; the formal tone of respect had vanished.
Carmen did not pull away. She let her hand relax in his touch, carefully watching his tender face. “Hutch,” she breathed.
He looked up to her. Carmen recognized the way he stared at her - it was the same look he had given her back in Highever every time she caught him staring at her from a distance.
He leaned down, and kissed her.
Fifteen years of longing, desire, and unspoken affection went into that kiss. She sighed at the sensation of his lips against hers. Their hands grasped tighter, hearts racing, Carmen’s free hand slid up his neck.Her fingers curled in his hair. He stepped closer, hand reaching out to gently grab her and pull her close--
They instantly broke apart. Hutch took several steps back while Carmen inhaled deeply, catching her breath. The owner of the voice appeared in the doorway a minute later. Alistair looked between the two, eyes eventually sticking to Carmen.
“There you are,” he said, entering the room. Carmen gave him a sweet, breathless smile. The Gray Warden stopped next to his companion, then turned to regard Hutch. The knight stood tall and erect, although his eyes had found the ground.
“Ser Knight,” he greeted.
Hutch dipped his head. “Gray Warden,” he returned. Alistair watched him carefully.
“Alistair,” Carmen began, “this is Ser Duval. He was a knight of my father’s back in Highever. I am not the only one to survive the attack, I am pleased to say.”
He nodded. “That is good to hear. We will need everyone we can against the Blight.” He looked Hutch over once again before turning to Carmen. Hutch’s eyes looked up to see Alistair had placed a hand on Carmen’s arm.
“I think it is time we should retire. We need to be well rested for the Landsmeet tomorrow. Eamon might expect me to make a speech.”
Carmen nodded, her smile not as pleasant as it could have been. “Of course, dear.” She glanced to Hutch. His eyes had found the ground again. She turned to the knight, looking as if she wished to say something, but all she said was, “Good night, Ser Duval.”
He finally looked to her. “Good night, Gray Warden.”
Alistair placed a hand on her back and lead her out of the room, leaving Hutch to his solitude once again.
The Landsmeet was called the next day. Rowan and Hutch were there to ensure the safety of all the lords and banns of the land. They stood at their posts on the upper level of the throne room, each on either side, eyes surveying the crowd.
The Landsmeet was a heated event. The Gray Wardens arrived a few minutes late, bloodied but ready for debate. Hutch could not help his gaze as it followed Carmen.
The Gray Wardens brought forth evidence against Teyrn Loghain - slavery and attempted poisoning of Arl Eamon being a few of the examples. Loghain spoke with power and persuasiveness, but not even he could speak against his daughter, who showed up to support the Warden’s claims. Before anyone knew it, the Landsmeet had turned into a duel. Loghain against the Warden’s chosen champion. Whoever won, the Landsmeet would have to serve.
Carmen chose herself to fight.
Hutch’s eyes had not left her since the moment she walked in the room. Him, like everyone else in the room, watched her as she readied herself against Loghain. He was a formidable opponent and a great warrior; it would be no easy feat for her. But Hutch had seen her grow as a warrior over the years, and he knew if anyone could win, it would be her.
She moved with grace and vicious elegance. Loghain fought with power and expertise himself. The fight turned in his favor several times, but in the end, Carmen was victorious. Loghain succeeded to the hand of the Gray Warden.
Hutch released a sigh of relief.
“What will you do with him now, Gray Warden?” Arl Eamon asked.
Carmen, still breathing heavy from the fight, gave a hard look to the kneeling Loghain. “Take him away. I will decide what to do with him later.” Two guards appeared, sweeping Loghain into their arms and taking him away.
The room filled with mutterings and whispered words. The Landsmeet were waiting for what came next. Arl Eamon joined the Gray Wardens at the ground floor of the throne room.
“So it is decided. Alistair will take his father’s throne,” the Arl announced.
Alistairs eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, what? No! When did that get decided? Nobody’s decided that… have they?”
“He refuses the throne,” Queen Anora quickly cut in. “Everyone here has heard him. I think it is clear, that he abdicates in favor of me.”
“I hardly think you are the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora,” Arl Eamon refuted. He turned to Carmen. “Warden, will you help us?”
Carmen nodded. “Yes. I can settle this.”
Everyone looked to her with anticipation.
“As the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead ferelden?”
Carmen stepped forward, moving to the center of the group. She turned to face Eamon and the others. As she turned, however, her eyes found Hutch. Her expression faltered, but she forced her gaze back to Eamon..
“Alistair will be king,” she said, then inhaled deeply. “And I will rule beside him.”
The crowd broke into a surprised clamor.
Everyone reacted differently. Some looked hopeful, others were skeptical, Alistair himself carried an expression of dread. But Hutch saw none of this. His eyes had closed when he heard the words that had broken his heart.
She was going to marry Alistair. She would become Queen.
And Hutch would never see her again.
Perhaps it was for the best. He was but a knight; Carmen was a Gray Warden and an impeccable woman who deserved to run the Kingdom. She would be good for the people of Ferelden. She would lead them through the Blight. Her, and her future husband. Hutch would have to accept that.
And he did, but it still did not help mend his broken heart.
With the new leaders chosen, Ferelden prepped for war. The King and his Consort moved to the castle in Denerim, where they begun their plan to fight the Blight. Hutch and Rowan returned to the Knights of Denerim to help prepare everyone for the upcoming war. One day, Rowan and Hutch were summoned into the Royal Advisor’s study up at the castle. They passed by Silme on their way in, each man greeting her. Rowan and Silme had been thrown together a lot the past few weeks, and thus have found themselves less irritated with one another. That was good, for Ferelden did not need two of its best fighters trying to kill each other before the Blight.
“Ah, there you are,” Sir Wymore greeted them. The men gave him the required bow. He nodded to them. “Thank you for coming, men. I know time is of the essence, so I will make this brief. You have been promoted.”
Hutch’s eyebrows rose, while Rowan blinked with surprise.
“A power higher than mine has taken notice of your abilities. You have shown excellent determination and loyalty to Ferelden, and with an extra good word from myself, you have each been given charge of your own unit. We believe your leadership will be invaluable to the kingdom of Ferelden.”
A prideful grin swept over Rowan’s face. Hutch had to hold in his own smile. They both bowed. “We would be honored to accept the position, Sir Wymore,” Hutch said.
Sir Wymore smiled, and nodded. “I trust you two will lead our men well.”
“You put your trust in the right men,” Rowan said. Hutch refrained from rolling his eyes.
Sir Wymore dismissed them. Rowan left the room, but Hutch hesitated by the door.
“Alexander,” he said. They were old friends, so when they were without company, they felt comfortable enough to use each other’s first name. “The higher power you spoke of - the one who gave us the positions… who was it?”
Alexander smiled softly. “I think you know, Hutch.”
Hutch inhaled deeply. He nodded, looking somber for a moment, then left.
The darkspawn were approaching. After leading the army to Redcliffe, where the scouts reported the darkspawn horde was headed, the Wardens discovered that their scouts had been deceived - the Archdemon had deceived them and brought the darkspawn horde in behind the Warden's army to strike at the city they had just left largely unprotected: the capital city of Denerim. Turning the army about and leading them on a forced march back to Denerim, the Warden found that the horde of darkspawn had already begun to sack the city. And so they readied themselves to take back their city.
The army gathered outside of Denerim for one last speech by the King and Princess Consort. Carmen spoke mostly, and despite the way Hutch still felt for her, he was encouraged by her words. She was a good leader. No matter what he wished happened, he could not deny that she belonged up there, next to the King. Ferelden needed her far more than he did, and so he had to set aside his desires, no matter how much it killed him to see her standing next to her future husband.
The men were gathered in their units just hours before the fight. Denerim lay far to the north of them, yet they could see the smoke rising from the city. It would be a battle to end all battles, everyone knew as much. Hutch stood with his men when he heard that familiar voice behind him.
The entire unit fell quiet. They turned to see the Princess Consort standing before them. Each man quickly sank to a knee, Hutch joining them. She waved her hand. “At ease, boys.” She winked at them.
They all looked surprised, but did as she said. Hutch rose to his full height. “How man I be of service to you, Princess Consort?”
“You can join me on a walk.”
Hutch looked surprised for a moment, but nodded. She gestured to the woods to their left. Leaving an order for his men to stay put, he joined her on a walk through the trees.
They walked in silence for a while. Hutch kept his eyes trained forward, doing all he could not to meet Carmen’s gaze. She played with her hands in front of her as they meandered aimlessly, weaving through the trees.
Hutch was the first one to break the silence. “I wished to thank you for the opportunity to lead my own unit, Princess Consort. I am honored to serve Ferelden in such a manner.” He finally glanced to her.
She smiled softly. “You are a good knight, Hutch. You and Rowan both deserved it.”
He nodded. They kept walking.
“Do you remember my brother’s party a few years ago?” Carmen suddenly asked. Hutch looked down to her. “The masquerade ball. The one where you had saved my life by interrupting my dance with that dreadfully boring man.”
Hutch could not help but chuckle slightly. “I remember that night.” It was the first time they had ever truly spoken to each other. It was the first night Hutch had realized he had fallen in love with her.
“It was the first time we danced together,” she said. Her eyes looked off into the distance in front of them, remembering the time so long ago. She stopped walking and finally looked up to him. “It is one of my most cherished memories,” she said quietly.
Hutch stopped walking, meeting her gaze. He let his guard drop and he looked at her with that same expression he always had - the one that very clearly spoke of how much he loved her.
“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Howe had not attacked my home. I wonder if we would have… If I would have chosen someone different.” Carmen looked at him, tenderly. She lifted up a hand and gently brushed it along his cheek, moving the strands of hair from his face. He gently leaned into her touch.
“Perhaps we will have a better chance together in the next life.” She smiled weakly. Hutch sighed and closed his eyes. If this was the last chance he ever had to be with her, he wanted to remember the feeling of her touch against his skin. Suddenly, he felt her pulled him down to her level, and she placed a kiss on his cheek. He opened his eyes and smiled softly.
“We should return. It is about time we take back Denerim,” she said, releasing him. He nodded and stepped back.
“Maker be with you today, Hutch.”
“Maker be with you, Carmen.”
With one final, somber smile, she walked out of the woods.
Hutch waited a few minutes before he returned to his unit. Rowan and his men were nearby, waiting for the signal of the Kind. Hutch approached Rowan and held out a hand. Rowan clasped his arm.
“Let’s give those dawkspawn hell, Brother.”
Hutch smiled. “If I die today, I will be honored to die fighting next to you.”
“Like hell that’s going to happen. We are going to meet at the tavern once this is all over.”
Hutch chuckled. “I look forward to it, Brother.”
The smiled at each other for a moment before Rowan pulled him into a hug. Hutch patted his back and they pulled back after a moment, nodding to each other.
And then it was time to fight. The plan was simple: slay the darkspawn, and keep them away from the Gray Wardens.
It was a brutal fight. Hutch and his men stayed tight, together, moving before the Gray Wardens to slay a path for them. Hutch’s men dwindled as the fight wore on, but they kept going. Protect the Gray Wardens. Protect the King. Kill the Archdemon. Simple enough.
At one point, amidst the battle, a loud roar echoed through the field. A large darkspawn charged into the field. He was not as big as a troll, but he was larger than any other darkspawn. He carried a huge sword, slaughtering enemies in his path. Hutch had just cut off the head of a darkspawn when he noticed the large beast set his sights on a particular Gray Warden across the field.
Hutch didn’t hesitate. He sprinted across the field, running parallel to the huge darkspawn. The beast didn’t notice him, eyes set on Alistair. The King was too busy fighting off a group of darkspawn to notice the incoming attacker. Hutch’s feet pounded across the pavement, just barely keeping up with the darkspawn. It raised its huge as it approached the King and swung down.
Hutch stepped before the darkspawn, smacking away the sword. Alistair turned around when he heard the clinking of sword against sword. Hutch waved at him. “Go! We will hold the square!” He turned back to block another blow from the darkspawn, arms aching from the impact. Alistair wasted no time in rushing away, joining the rest of his group.
Hutch kept his engagement with the beast as long as possible. He kept on the defensive, swatting away the massive sword when he could. Suddenly, the beast threw its hand and struck him across the face, causing him to stumble. The Darkspawn thrusted his sword into Hutch’s gut, sinking his massive weapon deep into his abdomen. Hutch released a loud, agonized yell.
I won’t go down so easily.
Hutch grabbed onto the sword impaled into his abdomen. He forced himself further onto the sword, the tip of the darkspawn’s weapon breaking through his back. He ignored the pain, sinking further and further onto the sword, until he was within distance. The darkspawn, surprised by the human, paused. Now closer to the body of the darkspawn, Hutch raised his sword and sank it deep into the monster’s chest. It screamed with pain and Hutch threw all of his weight into the beast, sinking his sword deeper into the vile flesh. It dropped its sword, Hutch with it, and fell to the ground.
Hutch staggered. The weight of the sword brought him to his knees. He fell to the side, slamming against the hard ground. The sword through his body disallowed him to roll onto his back, and so he laid there on his side, resigned to watching the battle before him. The sounds of war dimmed and he breathed heavily, pain wrenching his gut. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable death to come.
He shivered. A soft voice called his name. He still felt pain in his stomach, reminding him that he was still alive. He forced his eyes to open. Among the bloodied battlefield stood a beautiful woman before him. She kneeled down, her face coming into view. Carmen looked down to him, a frown creasing her lips. “Oh, Hutch,” she spoke tenderly. Not a drop of blood stained her face or her dress. “Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?”
“It was - it was my duty to protect the King,” he answered. She sighed and placed a hand on his face. Her touch was warm, soothing. The pain in his stomach fled, his focus on the beautiful woman before him.
“What was the real reason, Hutch?”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Because… because you deserve someone to… to love you for the rest of your life.”
She looked at him tenderly, stroking his face. He lifted his hand to touch hers, but instead of feeling her warm skin, he was met with the cold touch of his own face. In a blink of an eye, Carmen had disappeared. He sighed and closed his eyes. Death could not come soon enough.
A voice awoke him again. This time it was deep, thunderous, and full of fear. He heard the sound of feet pounding against the pavement, moving towards him. “Brother!” his friend called. He opened his eyes to see Rowan kneel beside him.
“Brother, it is all right. I will get you to a doctor and we will have you patched up in time to get you to that tavern.”
Rowan moved to grab Hutch, but the moment he moved him, Hutch released an agonized yell. “Rowan - Rowan, stop! I can’t.. I can’t, it hurts too much..”
“Then I will go get someone. Wait here--”
“Rowan.” Hutch reached out a hand and grabbed his friend’s arm, stopping him before he could rise. “Don’t… I won’t make it. Look at me. I have no chance.”
“No,” Rowan said, resolute. “You will live. I will not drink alone tonight.”
Hutch would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it tonight.”
“Like hell you won’t. Alexander is around here somewhere - if anyone can save you, he--”
“Rowan, please,” Hutch begged, grasping his arm harder. “It is no use. Just.. stay with me. Please. I don’t want to be alone. Stay with me.”
Rowan frowned. He nodded, settling down next to his friend. He grabbed Hutch’s hand and held it firmly. Hutch sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He shook slightly. His face was growing paler by the moment.
“The Archdemon was slayed,” Rowan said. Hutch opened his eyes.
Hutch smiled slightly, then it died away. “The King… Did he…?”
“He survived,” Rowan said. “And so did she.”
Hutch sighed with relief. He nodded, his face brushing against the pool of his own blood.
“There has one thing I have always wanted to say to you,” Hutch said. HIs voice grew weaker as time passed. “You… you have been a terrible friend.”
Rowan laughed, a sad chuckle. “I love you too, Brother.” He placed his hand on Hutch’s shoulder, gripping tightly.
Hutch smiled weakly. He coughed, blood seeping through his mouth. The pain was numb now. All he felt was tiredness. And so he gave into that feeling, letting his eyes close for the last time.
