peopleofthedas | These Ties That Bind Us - Dragon Age 2 : Chapter 4

Title: These Ties That Bind Us
Chapter: Four - Caged
Author:

silentstephi
Rating: T to start, M in later chapters for themes and violence
Warnings: None for this chapter
Word Count: 2109 out of 9058
Pairing: Sorcha Hawke/Sebastian, hints of F!Hawke/Anders
Summary: It's been four months since the events at Kirkwall and the world is changing at a rapid rate. Sebastian, last of his line, is determined to get Starkhaven back but Sorcha Hawke isn't going to make it easy. The abomination haunts them still.

Note: Super awesome mega thanks to

drakontion for being a fantastic beta. Much <3!

Caged:

The spring rains did nothing to alleviate her foul mood. Fergus was in the small courtyard below, barking at the rain. Just this morning, she had been finally allowed to get her hands on her armor. It was a mess. A rag in one hand, she wiped dried blood and dirt from the links and plates, needing something to occupy her. She had been bedridden since showing up two weeks earlier. Her mabari was being treated like her weapons. More's the pity. She missed the company.

Her botched escape attempt and the fury she had seen in Sebastian's eyes did nothing to quell the feeling that she should not stay here. Every time he came to see her it was always to ask about Anders. She refused to tell him what she knew. It was pure thick headed stubbornness on her part; she knew nothing. She had no idea where the mage was. But she wasn't about to tell Sebastian that.

She had looked for another opportunity to escape, but Sebastian was a wily one, more so than he had ever hinted at. She was unable to find an opening to escape.

Her fingers were restless, tapping absently on the Hawke herald on her breastplate. She couldn't stop thinking about the last thing Sebastian had said to her. He was going to send for the Seekers. She felt caged, with no way out; it was a foreign feeling for the Champion of Kirkwall. Like being in the Circle, only without the benefits of magic. Or was that the curse of magic? Thinking of mages made her think of her sister and how Bethany was still out there somewhere.

She frowned absently. Maybe they could hunt him down for her. He was, after all, on the run from the Chantry and the Wardens and every other bloody authority on the planet. She placed a hand on her belly, knowing above all else she could not let the Templars get their hands on this child.

As if thinking about it woke it up, her belly cramped. Sometimes she thought she felt flutters, but she wasn't sure. Thoughts of the baby in her womb made her chest ache. Was she truly ready to be a mother? Alone? With no help? How was she going to take care of an infant while on the run? Mother, I wish you were here. I could really use one of your insufferable lectures right about now.

These thoughts plagued her nightly. She would wake in a cold sweat, her limbs tangled in the sheets, her cuts stinging as they healed, her abdomen aching with the child inside. One dream seemed to stick with her. It was a nightmare she had been having since she had run from Kirkwall.

Gentle, loving hands caress her face and sides as labor pains take her. She is naked, exposed and shivering, but she is home, in the bed they made love in. The bed they made this child in. Her back arches, and she can see Anders, blond hair held back tight, amber eyes looking concerned but full of love. Her heart aches seeing him like this, but then there's another contraction and he's there, helping her, easing her body along its natural rhythms to bring their child into this world.

An intense wave of pain washes over her, forcing her eyes closed and Anders' warm presence is gone. She opens her eyes and in his place is a stark, sunken, bald husk of a man. Glowing blue eyes stare at her as he plunges hands into her womb and rips the child from her body. The pain is excruciating. There is blood everywhere and he turns his back to her as blood and birth fluids pour out of her. She can feel her life dripping away a drop at a time. He's leaving her behind. He's taking the child and she can't even muster a broken sob of defiance…

Goosebumps sprang up on her arms. Even with the layer of consciousness to lessen the blow of the film of dream she can't shake that last bit of phantom pain. Lost in thought, she barely heard the scratch at the door. She cleared her throat when the door opened and a blond woman with a tray came in. She did not nod her head, but something tugged at Sorcha's mind. She felt as if she should know the woman's face, but could not place it.

The stranger placed the tray by the fireplace and turned to get a full look at Sorcha. She placed her hand on her hip and studied her.

Sorcha sighed at the scrutiny and studied the woman in return. She was slight but had that wiry look of someone dangerous. The way she canted her hips and planted her feet, Sorcha figured the woman was armed to the teeth with hidden weapons. Sebastian kept interesting company. Finally she looked at the woman's face where icy blue eyes seem to have finished their own inspection. "What?"

"I'm trying to figure out how you bested five heavily armed men in such a sorry state," the woman replied.

Sorcha shrugged and her bruises and cuts decided at that moment to remind her of the folly of that encounter. "They didn't really give me much choice. But here I am, subdued and awaiting the executioner's noose."

The woman raised a brow at that and then shrugged. "That might be some time in coming. I hope you're ready to move because we're leaving tomorrow." She had a neutral tone of voice, almost like she was making it bland on purpose. Sorcha found it odd.

Then it was Sorcha's turn to raise her brow. "Are we in danger here? I thought this was his base of operations, the 'Taking Back Starkhaven' Headquarters, as it were."

The mystery woman shrugged again. "Prince Vael feels it's time to move on. The city is still having outbursts of apostate attacks, though they've dropped in frequency. Templars are fighting amongst each other and just a few blocks south of here there was a clash between the two factions. There's too much attention being called to this corner of the city. We should leave before they catch on that the exiled prince is in residence."

Softly Sorcha said, "Is it really that bad out there? Are all the Circles rebelling?"

At that, the woman laughed. It was a husky sound, guttural. "There is no Circle in Starkhaven. Not since it broke and the annulment was done six years ago. Whatever apostates the Templars have come across have been systematically wiped out. Common folk aren't taking it very well. The helpful magics as well as the harmful are being targeted. Healers are practically extinct in the city and surrounding farmsteads." She looked at Sorcha and a pang of sympathy seemed to cross her face. It surprised the warrior. "Otherwise we would have moved earlier. A healer could have at least patched you up enough for the trip."

Sorcha pondered this. If the situation was that bad here in Starkhaven, weeks travel from Kirkwall… Best not dwell too long.

"How goes Sebastian's bid for the throne then?"

"What I do to regain Starkhaven isn't really your concern." Both women jumped in their spots as Sebastian walked through the slightly open door. His face was screwed up in a scowl. Since she had woken up in Starkhaven she had yet see the man smile. She missed it. It bothered her that she missed it.

He didn't look at Sorcha, but instead at the mystery woman. "Noël, may I have a word with you outside please?"

A calm mask descended over Noël's face and she nodded once to Sorcha before leaving the room. Sorcha's face colored in anger since Sebastian didn't even give her a backwards glance as he followed the blond woman out of the room. She was about to yell at him for the rude dismissal when he slammed the door shut and locked it. The dark figure that moved from behind the shadow of the door into her view scared her speechless.

Her heart raced as the slender figure snaked its way across the open space between her seat at the window and the door. Anger flashed to alarm as she cried out "Sebastian!" Then the assassin was upon her. She sprang from her chair, her breastplate still in her hand so she used it as a shield.

A dagger with a frightening oily sheen came into her view moments before it was thrust at her side. She slammed the armor down on to it and the offending hand. A deep grunt came from under the mask covering her assailant's face and beady hazel eyes glared at her. The dark bushy brows, the low pitched grunt screamed male to her despite the wiry frame. Elf, maybe. Warrior instincts shrieked for a sword but her captors had confiscated all the weapons she had had.

She shouted in the assassin's face as she dodged under another blow and this time she lost her grip on the armor. Stumbling backwards towards the window, she couldn't do much else but dodge her assailant and throw whatever she had in reach at him to keep him off balance. Pieces of her armor, cleaning rags, the small stepping stool, anything to put space between them.

The door thudded and she could hear cries of alarm but they couldn't help her. The man was determined to stick that poisoned dagger in her person and she could not allow it.

Underused muscles protested as she leapt for the bed and tried to use it as a barrier between them. But she overestimated the distance and when she landed against the side board her knees cracked into the frame and her right leg gave out under her.

She cried out as the assassin grabbed her by the back of the head and made to slice the dagger across her throat. She clung to his wrist and through sheer force of will, shouting insults about his dubious parentage and other such invectives at her assailant, struggled to hold the dagger away from her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a dark symbol on the man's vest: a black sunburst with a grey eye. Her heart sank as she recognized the herald of the Seekers.

Then her attacker changed tactics and she felt more than saw it when he went to wrap his arm around her neck. It was the logical move to break their stalemate and so she was prepared for it. As soon as he shifted his weight she shoved with her good leg against the frame of the bed and slammed them both against the opposite wall.

His grip of the dagger never faltered, but she was able to wriggle loose from his grapple and she rolled away. At least, she tried to roll. Stiches popped and her not quite healed wounds burned as they split open. She couldn't stop the sob of pain as she crawled as fast as she could to the door, which was queerly silent.

For a split second the thought crossed her mind that Sebastian wasn't going to get to her in time, that maybe the assassin was here to take care of this mess on his orders. She didn't want to think he'd stoop this low. Blood pounded in her ears she shoved her back against the opposite wall in time to see her assailant regain his balance and stalk his way across the room to her.

The door next to her sprang open and three arrows zipped through, one after another, thunking into the man's chest and shoulder.

The assassin staggered backwards and hit the window sill. With a wet sucking sound another arrow shaft sprang from his mouth and he slumped to the floor.

Adrenaline sharpened everything but she didn't really see the concerned blue eyes until she felt Sebastian grab the side of her face. Sounds were coming from his mouth but they echoed dully in her ears. Vaguely, she knew that he was calling out her name. She couldn't respond, because everything hurt and something felt wrong. With shaking fingers she brought her arm up between them. There was a shallow slice from wrist to elbow.

She had not escaped the dagger's touch. Looking Sebastian in the eyes, she could only groan out, "Poison" before everything started to spin. For the second time in as many weeks, her world went dark.

LJ here and dreamwidth here
Chapter 1 here
Arcive Of Our Own link here

cross posted to swooping_is_bad, dragon_age, and muhrduhr

These Ties That Bind Us - Dragon Age 2 : Chapter 4

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