for the oc codex prompt, number 3 for any oc of your choosing
3. a report written by your OC’s teacher or mentor
The girl is undeniably talented. She has an aptitude for magic and a clear hunger for knowledge. I daresay if she continues her current path, we may be looking at a future senior enchanter, or perhaps higher, though she will need to learn to suppress the temper that still sometimes flares to ensure diplomacy is maintained and keep trouble from the Circle.
Her behaviour as a child was worrying, as cold and distant as she was, but with time she has opened up to the more senior enchanters. In truth, her attention and questions can be quite flattering at times.
She appears to primarily apply herself in her studies, prioritising knowledge from more accomplished peers over fraternisation with the other apprentices. I do wonder if this means the girl is protected from the more… unsavoury brand of dissatisfaction the younger mages can sometimes demonstrate.
Davina Amell is one to watch, I believe. I have no doubt she will achieve memorable things in her lifetime.
—Excerpt from the journal of First Enchanter Irving
thank you so much for the prompt, I'm sorry it took me several months to get to <3
Birdsong sounded outside, the noise slowly filling Fenris’ ears. It was morning - the light filtering in around the curtains left no doubt of that - but he rubbed his eyes, wondering if it was early enough that he could go back to sleep.
He was in Hawke’s room, Hawke’s bed, having fallen asleep there the night before, but… he was alone, no Hawke beside him.
As though summoned, Hawke burst through the door, Fenris wincing at the sudden additional light, curling up into the blankets.
“Good morning,” Hawke said cheerfully.
“I’m not finding the good in this particular morning,” Fenris muttered, flinging his arm over his eyes, hoping Hawke would recognise he was grumpy about the early hour and about being awake and not at him.
“You’ll be fine” Hawke told him, still sounding far more cheerful than anybody had a right to be at this hour. He sat on the edge of the bed, setting his basket down beside him, reaching inside. “I brought you something to eat.”
Fenris reluctantly emerged from the blankets, pushing himself to a sitting position as he reached for the offered chunk of bread. It was clearly freshly baked. Hawke must have dropped by that bakery they were both so fond of.
“I don’t know how you manage to be so cheerful in the mornings,” he muttered when he’d finished the slice, though the food helped him feel a little more awake.
“Easy to be cheerful when you know what you’re waking up to,” Hawke told him. Fenris raised an eyebrow at him.
“And that is…?”
Hawke just grinned at him, and Fenris felt his cheeks grow hot, that tiny flutter returning in his chest as he realised Hawke was talking about him, waking up to him.
“Always nice to wake up to a handsome elf in my bed,” he continued. “I’ll need to encourage you to do that more.”
“Encouraging,” Fenris said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Is that what you call last night?”
“Well. It worked, didn’t it?” Hawke shrugged, winking at him. He shifted closer, pressing against Fenris’ side. Fenris lowered his head, resting it against Hawke’s shoulder with a deep breath, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him. He’d missed being this close to Hawke in the years they were apart, and he was grateful they’d been able to start again.
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose it did.”
He felt Hawke’s hand against his cheek, tilting his face up, before his lips were against Fenris’. The kiss was gentle, comfortable and warm like the morning and the blankets still wrapped around him.
“I could probably be… encouraged to do this more often,” Fenris said quietly, the kiss broken but his forehead pressed against Hawke’s, sensing Hawke’s mouth curve into a smile before he kissed him again.
“I’d like that,” Hawke said. “Now, are you getting up, or do I need to stay and join you in bed?”
if you wish, kiss prompt 67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More
Thank you anon, here is some Fenris x f!Hawke
It had been years since Hawke had last kissed Fenris, but his lips were as soft as she remembered, his muscles strong under her hands.
It had been years, but kissing Fenris was something she had never forgotten. Something she’d never been willing to forget, even when it hurt to think about. Fenris had left, and she’d thought she’d never get the opportunity to kiss him again.
If I could go back, I would stay, he’d said, and the tiny spark of hope that had burned in Hawke’s chest ever since that night flared.
And now here she was, only moments later, back in his arms the way she never thought she would be again, his mouth against hers. It was everything she’d hoped, everything and more. Just like she remembered from the first time, before they had spent the night together, before he remembered aspects of his forgotten past. Before it had all been too much and Fenris had left.
Hesitant, a small part of her still worried he would leave if she gave him the chance, Hawke pulled back, her arms wrapped around him. He needed to have that chance though, the chance to leave, before this went too far and either of them were hurt again.
“I’m sorry, are you sure you-” she started but Fenris didn’t let her finish, pulling him closer against her as he kissed her again, harder.
“I have never been more certain in my life,” he murmured against her lips after a moment. “I missed you. I missed this.”
“I missed you too,” Hawke whispered, and she had, even seeing him every day the way she had. It wasn’t the same, wasn’t what she had wanted.
“I’m not going anywhere this time,” Fenris added, and Hawke squeaked as he lifted her, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. “I promise I will not hurt you again, Hawke.”
It had been years since Hawke had last kissed Fenris, since they had first spent the night together.
But now she had been given the chance again, Hawke hoped that she never had to wait to kiss him again.
Carver’s nails pressed into the flesh of his palm, a new set of crescent moons pressed into the skin. They joined the marks already there as he paced another lap around the temporary Warden camp.
He wondered if he’d worn a track into the ground yet, a record of the path his feet had taken as he was forced to wait and wait. They’d told him Alistair would be fine, that they just needed some time, some space, just to make sure they knew exactly what needed healing and how, but… he didn’t want to think about the possibility of them being wrong. He couldn’t think about that.
“Carver?”
The voice cut through his thoughts, stopping him before they could spoil anymore. He spun to face the healer, his finger picking anxiously at the side of his thumb.
“Is he…” Carver started, trailing off. He needed to know but what if the answer wasn’t what he wanted? What he needed?
“He’s fine,” the woman told him, a reassuring smile on her face, and Carver felt his shoulders slump in relief.
It had been one of the scariest moments of his life, turning after the fight to find Alistair, the way he always did, only to find him hurt. He hadn’t even realised it at first, Alistair still finding the time to make a joke before his leg buckled and Carver noticed the dented armour, the blood that hadn’t come from the Darkspawn now scattered on the ground around him.
“We’ve finished what he needs, for the time being at least,” she continued. “You can see him now.”
Carver was already halfway to the tent by the time she finished.
Inside, Alistair was pale, his expression clearly tired as he raised his head from the stretcher the healers had set up for him. Despite how weary he looked, he still grinned at Carver.
“I have to say, when I woke up this morning, this was not how I imagined spending my afternoon,” he said. “In fact, I can think of a whole list of things that would be more fun than–”
He didn’t get to finish before Carver’s lips were on his, Carver finally able to release some of the stress, the anxiety and emotion built up over the afternoon. He didn’t even realise his hands were on Alistair’s face until he lifted his head, needing to take a proper breath and his hands remained, cupping his cheeks.
Alistair coughed.
“Well, if I knew all I needed to do to get that kind of attention was get hurt, maybe I should have done that earlier,” he said.
“Shut up,” Carver said, leaning down to kiss him again. “Don’t you dare.”
Alistair’s hand rubbed reassuringly against Carver’s forearm.
“I thought I almost lost you,” Carver said when he lifted his head again. “I can’t… I couldn’t…”
He’d already lost so much, so many people he cared about. He couldn’t lose Alistair, not as well. Not now that he’d found him, that they’d found their place in the Wardens together.
“I’m fine,” Alistair told him. “Really. Promise.”
“You better be,” Carver muttered, unable to resist a tiny smile in response to Alistair’s cheeky grin before Alistair pulled him down again.
“Don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m like a bad smell.”
“I wasn’t going to mention the smell,” Carver smiled, feeling a little better as Alistair swatted him on the arm. He was clearly feeling at least a little like himself.
“They said I need to rest for today. They’ll come back and see if they need to do anything else tomorrow,” Alistair told him. “The best medicine sometimes is time, and all that. There was a whole speech.”
Carver took his hand, still flooded with relief that Alistair was ok. He was ok.
Will you stay with me for a bit?” Alistair asked.
“Course I will,” Carver said, ignoring that he should probably check with the Warden in charge of the camp. He knew he’d do it anyway, even if the answer was no, so there really wasn’t much point in asking. “Let me know if there’s anything you need,” he added as he settled himself into a more comfortable position beside the man he loved.
“Will do,” Alistair said, though he almost interrupted himself with a yawn, the exertion from the day and the stress of the injury and healing clearly beginning to grow too much for him.
As Alistair drifted to sleep, his hand in Carver’s, Carver just thanked the Maker that he hadn’t lost somebody else he loved.
Something I wrote a few months ago for @sunflowerdales featuring pre-Ostagar Carver and their OC/Carver's boyfriend Matthew Presley 💙
“Matthew help, I’m bored,” Carver complained, flopping down onto a chair. Across the room, Matty didn’t even look up from where he worked, kneading his dough. It was his day off from the family bakery but he’d ended up baking anyway, trying out an experiment with a new bread recipe.
“You’re always bored,” Matty said. “And I’m busy right now, go annoy your brother or something.”
“He went out with Mother,” Carver pouted, blowing a curl of hair away from his face. “I think they were going to the markets or something else boring. And Bethany is busy too.”
Matty flipped the dough over, gently sprinkling more flour.
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“I need you to entertain me before I die of boredom,” Carver said with a huffy sigh. He shifted to flop even more dramatically over the table, stretching out across it as much as he could.
Matty just snorted.
“Matty, I can feel the life seeping out of me,” Carver moaned. “Help. Quick, before it’s too late.”
“I’ll make sure you have a nice grave,” Matty said, his hands still working, an easy movement refined with years of practice. “The best flowers money can buy. Maybe I’ll even try visit you once or twice a year.”
“What if I just went and died anyway,” Carver muttered, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend, his arms crossed dramatically. “Just to spite you. Then you’d be sorry.”
“Then maybe I’d get some peace and quiet for once,” Matty teased, transferring the dough from the table to the wooden bowl he had ready to go. “If you stop distracting me though, you’ll get to eat this when it’s done.”
“Maybe I’ll hold onto life a little longer then,” Carver said, sitting up straight from the table as he watched Matty cross the room with the bread dough. He placed it by the fire, covering the bowl with a clean cloth as he left it to rise, returning to where Carver had returned to his best impression of looking pathetic and bored in an attempt to prove how much he needed attention.
Matthew cupped Carver’s face in his hand, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss, pulling back as Carver lifted his head to return it. Before he had a chance to react, Matty rubbed his hand over Carver’s face and Carver swatted him away, trying to wipe away the flour now smeared all over his face.
“I’m going to come back as a ghost and haunt you,” he said, grabbing Matty and pulling him onto his lap. Matty didn’t fight him, shifting slightly to straddle his boyfriend’s lap, Carver’s hands dropping to squeeze his ass.
“At least you’ll have something to do then,” Matty pointed out, lowering his head to kiss him again. “Are you still bored now?”
“Super bored,” Carver said, head tilting to the side as Matty pressed a kiss against his jaw. He pulled him slightly closer against him. “Quick, I still need your help.”
“Well, if you really need a distraction or something to do…” Matty trailed off, his mouth moving lower, against Carver’s neck, his hand creeping along Carver’s chest. Carver hummed in interest, his grip tightening where his hands rested on Matty, waiting to hear what the suggestion would be.
“I do need somebody to clean up the kitchen,” Matty finished, pushing himself away from Carver with a grin.
Carver flopped back onto the table with a groan.
“Nobody appreciates me,” he muttered, standing up to follow his boyfriend to the other side of the room.
Maybe if they cleaned up quickly, they’d be able to find something more fun to do.
Thank you anon! ~800 words of Fenhawke here, involving card night at Fenris' place :)
“Well, I’m off,” Hawke declared loudly to the group, setting down his cards and beginning to gather up his things. “I have an early morning tomorrow, and you’ll send me bankrupt if I stay any longer.”
“I think your fortunes are probably safe from our nefarious clutches,” Fenris told him, his tone dry, pulling the pile of coin he’d already won from Hawke slightly closer across the table. “Even with the luck you’ve had tonight.”
Hawke just snorted and the corner of Fenris’ mouth twitched in amusement at his reaction.
“That’s what someone who wants to take all my money would say,” Hawke said, continuing to pack his things away. “I’ll head home and see you all again next time. Unless anybody else is coming with me?”
The urge to stand up, to leave with Hawke was there but Fenris pushed it aside. It was probably rude to leave a gathering at your own house to accompany somebody else. Even when the alternative was the admittedly very appealing option of quietly spending the night with Hawke and Hawke alone.
“The rest of us have more courage,” Donnic teased as the rest of the group laughed. Hawke just shook his head at them dismissively.
“You’re all so mean to me,” he said, clearly doing his best to look disheartened. His best wasn’t particularly successful. “I will see all of you later, and hopefully you’ll have more luck when I go than I’ve had tonight so far.”
A chorus of goodbyes rang out from the small group in the room as Hawke stepped forward. Fenris jumped as a hand touched his hair, brushing it gently aside. Hawke pressed a quick goodbye kiss against his forehead, avoiding the lyrium marks etched into his skin the way he always did.
“Win enough so you can take me out for a nice dinner,” he whispered, his voice still loud enough that the whole table would surely hear him, and then with one final wave, he slipped out the door.
Fenris turned back to look at the rest of the group, his cheeks feeling hot, not sure what reaction to expect. It was no secret that he and Hawke had resumed their relationship after the time they had spent apart, not something either of them had tried to hide, but they hadn’t exactly been physically affectionate. Not in public, anyway. Not in front of their friends.
His fellow players didn’t seem to know what reaction to have either. Isabela’s mouth hung open in what looked like a combination of surprise and delight while Varric and Donnic expressed their surprise mostly with raised eyebrows. Only Anders seemed relatively unaffected and Fenris wondered how much of that was him pretending not to care because he had bigger things to worry about.
Fenris cleared his throat, reaching for the pile of cards, hoping to move on quickly and with only minimal fuss.
“Looks like our Hawkey can’t keep his hands off you,” Isabela said, her tone even more delighted than her expression. “Don’t expect us to go easy on you just so you can treat your lover to that fancy dinner though. Not unless you’re willing to let me come too.”
“Isabela,” Anders chastised her softly.
“What! I won’t turn down the opportunity for free food,” Isabela said indignantly as Fenris shuffled the cards, hoping to move on quickly from Hawke’s public display of physical affection. He didn’t want his relationship to be the focus or to remain the centre of attention.
“I’m happy for you both,” Donnic said. “I’m glad you could work that out.”
Fenris distributed the cards to the remaining players, not answering.
“Although, I notice your paramour has disappeared and left you here with us,” Isabela added. “You aren’t tempted to disappear off into the night after him? Sweep him off his feet in a show of passion? Give him a kiss back? Maybe more than a kiss.”
The next card hit the table harder than Fenris meant to.
“I’ll bet double if we start right now,” he said loudly, pushing the piles of cards towards their new owners and placing a coin directly in the middle of the table.
“Alright, hint taken,” Donnic said, reaching for his cards. “We’ll move on.”
“We can get the details later,” Isabela whispered to Varric, a dramatic whisper clearly not even meant to be slightly hidden. “Or make some more exciting ones up if needed.”
Fenris just rolled his eyes, shaking his head as the others took their cards too, the game beginning again.
But once his friends were busy, focused once again on their luck and on outmaneuvering each other, Fenris found himself gently touching the place on his forehead where Hawke’s lips had been, trying to hide the tiny smile on his face.
A fic I wrote a few weeks ago based on this Act 1 interaction between Isabela and Carver <3
Carver: So, Isabela. You captained a ship? That's a lot of men to handle. For you to command.
Isabela: Well aren't you just adorable fumbling for a topic.
Carver: You say that like I'm harmless.
Isabela: As harmless as a pup that will someday grow into its fangs and sink them deep.
Carver: Sure, keep teasing. I'll show you how much of a pup I am.
Isabela: I know. That's why I do it.
Ao3 link
“Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room in there,” Hawke said, looking at the building that housed the office they were here for. It was definitely small, squashed in between two others, and the interior would undoubtedly be smaller. “We just need to ask a few questions, shouldn’t take long. Fenris, you come with me. Isabela, Carver… you two wait out here.”
With that, Hawke disappeared through the door, Fenris trailing behind. That left Carver alone with the pirate, something that didn’t often happen. And sure, they weren’t alone, the docks were still crawling with people, but… not people they knew. Nobody else to make the conversation flow, give them something to start with. No brother to take all the attention.
Carver cleared his throat, trying to think of a topic of conversation as Isabela made herself comfortable against a wall across the walkway from the office, gazing wistfully off toward the ships.
So, Isabela,” he said, not wanting to waste the opportunity while he had it. “You captained a ship? That's a lot of men to handle. For you to... command.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he was overthinking. He hadn’t really meant it to sound… well, suggestive. Although it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of it that way, at least a few times. Maybe more than a few. And wasn’t really what he’d meant, but now that the idea was in his head again…
Isabela giggled.
“Well aren't you just adorable fumbling for a topic,” she said, taking a step towards him. Carver resisted the urge to step back, to maintain the distance between them. Let her come close.
“You say that like I'm harmless,” he frowned, crossing his arms. And it was definitely just a coincidence that doing so also made his muscles flex.
“As harmless as a pup that will someday grow into its fangs and sink them deep,” Isabela said, taking another step closer, her hand placed flat on his chest, sliding up the outside of his shirt, all the way up to his neck. Despite his best intentions to stand still, trying to convince her he was unphased by her words, her actions, he tilted his head away, chin raised. His breath caught slightly as she curled her fingers back down his throat, nails scraping gently across his skin. He was confident that she wasn’t leaving a mark but it was definitely enough to feel.
“Sure, keep teasing,” he said, hoping it wasn’t obvious how dry his mouth had gone. He tried to push away the thoughts of those fingers, those nails, on other parts of his body. He swallowed deeply. “I'll show you how much of a pup I am.”
Isabela gave him a sly smile, moving her hand to brush something - possibly nothing - off his shoulder.
“I know,” she said, leaning toward him. Without even meaning to, Carver leaned closer to her as well, forcing himself to take a breath as he realised he was holding it. “That's why I do it.”
She stepped back again, just as Hawke exited the office, beckoning them over. Carver just watched as Isabela flounced her way back across to Hawke.
“Come on, Carver,” Hawke called impatiently. “If you get left behind, we’re not waiting for you.”
Carver coughed again, trying to clear his throat and remember how to make his legs move again. It wasn’t how he’d expected the interaction to go down but… well, he didn’t really mind. Really really didn’t mind.
As he started forward, Isabela spun back to face him, snapping her teeth towards him twice, following the movement with a wink.
Carver sighed.
He just wondered when he’d next get a moment alone with Isabela.
The Hawke family has been forced to flee their home, overrun with Darkspawn. When Bethany is badly injured in an ogre attack on the road, her brothers do their best to look after her and keep their family moving to safety. Written for the (now very late) DAtober prompt "what if"
AO3 link, 1,371 words
They heard the ogre coming before they saw it, felt the ground shaking before the horns loomed through the fog. But even with the warning, the size of the thing was still a shock as the creature stormed into view.
It looked bigger than the ones Carver had seen at Ostagar, though maybe it just seemed that way as it rushed towards his family.
His sword was already drawn, prepared, warned by the approaching noise, but it made a line for the other side of the clearing. The wrong side.
The side where his mother and sister stood.
“Maker give me strength,” he heard Bethany say, his sister’s words clear despite how far away from him she felt and Carver twisted toward her in alarm as she swung her staff towards it. He barely managed one step towards them before the creature roared in anger, her fireball hitting it directly in the face.
He watched in horror as it grabbed his sister in its horrible claws with speed he wouldn’t have thought possible, speed that somehow seemed both too fast and too slow, lifting her high into the air. She didn’t stay there long, hitting the ground with one of the most sickening sounds Carver had ever heard in his life, a sound he knew would be burned into his brain forever.
“Bethany,” he yelled, every nerve in his body screaming at him to drop what he was doing, run to his sister’s side. But the ogre was still there, still a threat to Bethany, to the rest of his family, and he had a job to do, a family to protect.
The rest of the fight passed in a blur. Some part of him was aware of what he was doing as he fought, the blood splattering across his face. The pain from the only partially healed wound from Ostagar began to burn all over again as he pushed himself harder than he probably should have, but his only real focus, the only thing he could really think about, was the need to keep his family safe.
When the ogre’s body hit the ground, Carver paused only long enough to be confident it wasn’t going to come after him or his family again before scrambling to his sister’s side. He didn’t even care if it was dead, only that he had the time to reach his twin, praying harder than he’d ever prayed before that she was ok, that she would be ok.
His brother was already there, that familiar light already coating his hands, the healing spell weaving its way around Bethany’s limp body. Their mother sobbed beside them, begging Bethany to open her eyes up as she squeezed her daughter’s hand.
There was some hope, her shallow, ragged breaths better than none, but the breaths were strained and there was so much blood. The ogre was so big, had thrown her so far.
Silently, trying to swallow down the awful feeling stuck in his throat, Carver grabbed for the first aid kit. It wasn’t much, hastily thrown together in the chaos when the whole family had fled home, but he was desperate to do something, anything that might help his sister. He needed to do something that might help drown out the numbness trying to spread through him, the fear, the feeling that if he’d been quicker, got to that ogre first, maybe he could have stopped this.
That was his job.
It was the least he could do but he’d failed that again, failed yet again to save anybody. He’d failed at Ostagar, he’d failed his home and now maybe he’d failed his sister, his family.
He didn’t know how he’d live without her.
“Don’t leave me, Bethany,” he whispered, tears pricking in his eyes as he wiped some of the blood from her, trying desperately to work out the extent of her injuries, what might be the most useful for his brother to see.
He couldn’t lose anything else. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.
“Get the healing potion,” Garrett said, the glow around his hands fading momentarily and Carver scrambled for the other bag, hoping his frantic searching wouldn’t break anything.
“I’m sorry, mistress, your daughter is gone,” the warrior woman, Aveline, said from behind them as Carver’s fingers finally closed around the bottle he needed.
“Shut up,” Carver snapped at her at the same time their mother wailed “I won’t let them, I won’t let these things take my daughter.” He didn’t wait for her reaction, turning back to his sister, digging the cork free.
“Come on, Bethy,” he whispered, pressing the bottle to her lips as carefully as possible, mindful not to let her choke on the green liquid. Beside him, he could sense Garrett’s movements, though what he was doing was beyond Carver. “I can’t do this without you.”
“That’s all I can do,” Garrett said after a moment, sitting back on his heels, concern still clear on his face.
“What do you mean, that’s all you can do?” Carver snapped. “Is she ok? You can’t just let her die.”
“I’m not a healer, Carver,” Garrett snapped right back at him. “I can heal but my abilities are limited, especially after...” He paused, glancing back the way they had come, where smoke still coloured the sky. “After… today. After everything.”
Carver’s shoulders dropped. He knew it was true. Garrett would do anything possible in his power to protect their sister, but she was still hurt and that desperate urge to do more was still there. What if they hadn’t done enough?
He’d do whatever it took, take on the whole Darkspawn army again, all by himself, travel to the end of the earth, rip open the sky itself if it would guarantee his sister would be ok or let him go back to just a moment before she rushed forward, as determined and stubborn and passionate as she always was.
He’d never wished more that he had magic of his own, like his twin, his brother, his father. Maybe then he’d be able to do more to help her.
“Can we move her?” he asked instead, and Garrett hesitated, worry written clear across his face.
“I think so,” he said. “But I can’t… I don’t know Carver. I healed what I can but I don’t know what I can’t see.”
Carver glanced back, the sun coloured red through the smoke of the destruction behind them, knowing the road behind them was littered with the darkspawn that wouldn’t stop coming.
“We can’t leave her here,” he said. “We have to keep moving. We have to get her somewhere safe, her and mother.”
Beside him, Garrett just nodded, silent, their mother still sobbing as the woman Aveline and her templar husband did their best to awkwardly comfort her. Carver moved to slip his arm under his sister, praying to the Maker the movement didn’t hurt her, but Garrett’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“I’ll take her,” he said quietly and Carver shook his head, defensive feelings flaring. Bethany was his twin. He could look after her. “There’s a reason you were the one at Ostagar,” Garrett pointed out. “There’ll be more of them. She needs you to be able to fight. We all need you.”
Carver hesitated for a moment but he sighed, knowing his brother was right. Gently, as gently as he possibly could, he moved his arms from his sister. He squeezed her hand, their fingers locked together.
“You’re not leaving me like this, Bethy,” he whispered. “I love you. You’ll be ok.”
“Love you too,” she mumbled, cradled in Garrett’s arms as Carver stood, stepping towards their mother, wrapping his arm reassuringly around her shoulders.
“We’ll all be ok,” Garrett said, though Carver could tell their eyes met that neither of them were completely convinced of that. “We just need to keep moving. We have to get to Kirkwall.”
“Follow up the rear,” Carver told Aveline, drawing his sword in preparation for more Darkspawn ahead as he led the way down the path.
And as they walked, his sister cradled in their brother’s arms, he prayed that he hadn’t let go of her hand for the last time.
