It All Comes Tumbling Down

Title: It All Comes Tumbling Down

Series: Dragon Age

Characters: Alistair Theirin, F!Brosca, Carver Hawke, Nathaniel Howe, Zevran Arainai

Words: 4,163

Summary: It began as a wonderful day for Carina Brosca and it seemed like it would be just like any other at the Vigil with her doing paperwork and then helping Alistair train some of their recruits. Then her two Wardens that had gone off to Kirkwall returned with a surprise guest in tow and news that brings her world crashing down.

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“Rise and shine, recruits! It’s a beautiful morning for training!”

Carina Brosca smiled as she lifted the cup of hot tea to her lips, able to hear the groans drifting up from the Warden recruit barracks a few floors below her balcony. She was certain they and every batch before them would agree with Oghren’s statement that her lover was mad to have them all up at the ass-crack of dawn.

Alistair had a reason to be overly exuberant in his training though. Now, six years past the defeat of the Architect and the Mother, the Wardens had the numbers that Duncan had always wanted but had never been able to achieve. The Vigil was packed full of Wardens, which had forced them to start the task of readying Soldier’s Peak for being inhabited again. And with their number of recruits and Wardens, they had the opportunity to properly test them and cull the numbers before the Joining. Better to discover in training that one of their recruits was likely to go crazy or do something foolish than after they had drunk from the chalice.

Like Anders.

She sat her cup down on the wall surrounding her balcony at the thought of the apostate mage she’d stumbled across the day of her bloody arrival at the Keep. He had been a comfort during the months she’d known him as Alistair had been in Weisshaupt trying to explain how they’d survived without mentioning Morrigan (which consisted of a lot of nodding and looking stupid as he put it later). With his similar appearance and timbre of voice that matched her lover’s and vein of flirting that reminded her of Zevran, she’d felt like she had had both of them back with him by her side.

Then, after the darkspawn were dead and the Vigil in the process of rebuilding, she’d taken Oghren as well as two of their latest recruits to go on her first official recruitment trip around Ferelden. Only when she’d returned months later to find her Wardens harried and lost looking as well as the sight of over a dozen new pendants hanging on the wall that had become reserved for their dead in the main hall. An even more somber than usual Nathaniel had then informed her that Anders had disappeared after he’d killed – killed – several fellow Wardens, including the templar they’d been forced to take in by a mix of Anora and the Chantry. Kristoff’s body had been found not far from the site of the massacre days later and the rapid decomposition showed Justice had been gone for some time.

Having been witness to the closeness of the mage and spirit as well as recalling the spirit that was still keeping Wynne alive, she’d had a sickening suspicion as to what they’d done. Her thoughts then – and still – were that if only she had been there and not gallivanting around Ferelden, she could have stopped him. Could have pointed out that he had too much anger in him to not avoid corrupting the spirit into something closer to a demon. Could have…oh, there were so many could haves and should haves.

Careful messages sent out to her neighboring Warden-Commanders in Orlais and the Free Marches had revealed that he was in the city of Kirkwall. A bit of pressing inquiry on the Commander there had gotten her the information that he was running a free clinic in the area under the city called Darktown, helping refugees and the poor. While that warmed her heart to know he was helping, there were darker rumors about him that had been sent on with that news. He was still one of her Wardens in her heart and she felt responsible for him.

She also felt like she had failed him.

Three years ago, Alistair had told him just that when he’d run into the mage in Kirkwall. Part of her wished that she had been there but she would have insisted on dragging Anders back to Ferelden, intent on having him home. She knew though – better than anyone thanks to Anora and the Grand Cleric’s yearly reminders – that he could never come back to the Vigil to stay.

Sighing, Carina stepped up onto a footstool positioned in front of one of the two chairs always positioned out on the balcony. Alistair had once suggested getting her a ‘proper’ chair more suitable to her height and she’d offered to cut him down to her size so they could keep matching chairs. He’d laughed merrily at that – having long ago grown accustomed to her threats – and had spent the next few hours reminding her why she’d fallen in love with him.

Seating herself, she picked up her cup and looked over the balcony as their latest recruits stumbled sleepily into the training yard. Some were still buckling on armor and one of the mages was still in his smallclothes, robes hastily gathered in his arms. The sight brought a lump into her throat, recalling Anders’ total lack of propriety.

Then every sad thought vanished at the tall form striding along behind their raw recruits, reddish-blond hair standing out from the dragonbone splintmail he wore. From where they were now, she couldn’t make out the exact words but the boisterous grin on Alistair’s face told her that he was informing them of how ‘fun’ their lessons were going to be. And she could clearly hear the recruits groan in unison.

Looking down at him now from her vantage point over the Vigil, Carina was once again filled with pride in her ‘prince’. He absolutely loathed the title and anyone that came calling at the Vigil asking for the ‘prince’ was turned away immediately. The callings had become more frequent in the last few years as Anora still hadn’t remarried and Arl Eamon had written several times insisting that Alistair do his duty for the kingdom. She had watched every one of those letters burn from where she curled up in her lover’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around her and his jaw tense with anger. When the last one had come a year ago, he had finally written back with three sentences: if you want a child of Theirin blood on the throne, it will be Carina’s or no one else’s. If you wish me to do otherwise, then let it be known that breeding a new King for you isn’t my duty. I am a Grey Warden, not a King, and I will do my duty to them and the woman I love before all else, Eamon.

From the letter Bann Teagan had sent them after that one had arrived in Redcliffe, the Arl had turned a marvelous shade of purple. Teagan had also promised to stop any more letters from coming to them before either of them saw the need to personally make a visit. Carina had warmly written back saying that she could kiss him for keeping them from any more of Eamon’s pestering and had laughed when Alistair had grabbed the piece of vellum to add that a kiss was all his almost uncle was going to get from his lady.

So ‘prince’ Alistair may have hated being called but she thought of him that way in her own mind. She never called him that, of course, not even in the confines of their room because she knew better than anyone that he didn’t want to claim his blood right to the throne. She had never dreamed of being a noble hunter and rising above her caste in Orzammar – never wanted to after watching what Rica went through – but she’d always dreamed of it happening by accident. There had been a story Rica had told her when she was small, about a dwarven prince who found love with a casteless warrior and made her his wife, that she had always loved. The dwarf had never become King since he was the second son but he had loved his wife and Carina had been in love with the idea of someone saving her from the dark for a long time. Even when she and Leske had done things she’d hated, things that had stained her hands forever, she had held on to the sliver of hope that someone would save her.

Alistair had done just that from the moment they’d met with his brand of humor and whatever had told him there was something more behind the masks she had carried with her out of Dust Town.

Laughing a little at herself, Carina finished her tea and watched the recruits for a moment before she slid down from her chair. As she tugged her leathers on and settled a dagger at either hip, there was a sudden cheer from outside. Rushing back to the balcony, she peered over the edge to see a pair of dark haired men and several others striding in through the gate, Alistair moving to greet them with a wide grin. As soon as he noticed some of his recruits were trying to escape, he waved them on and began barking orders that had them come sprinting back without hesitation.

Oh, yes, he would have made a good King but no matter how noble her heart could be, she was still a duster. That made her selfish and on what would have been their last night together with his large body curled protectively around hers, she’d made the split second decision to keep him. He was the best thing that had come into her miserable life and she’d said just that when he’d fallen to his knees as soon as everything was done at the Landsmeet and asked why. Alistair had thanked her many times that night with his hands and lips, making her certain that she had made the right choice.

Even later, that decision with Morrigan, to ask him to do that with her friend, her sister…that had been because she was selfish too.

Carina shook herself from the memory and turned away from the balcony to leave the room. She knew every shortcut through the Vigil by now so, despite her shorter stature, she still ended up beating Nathaniel Howe, Carver Hawke, and the other Wardens in their party to the main hall. “Commander,” greeted the young man and she noticed that his blue eyes were shadowed by something other than exhaustion. A glance at Nathaniel showed the same in his and she knew something was wrong.

Then she looked behind them and there, amongst her Wardens, was a certain blond elf. “Zevran!” she exclaimed and when she earned only a tired smile instead of the over-the-top exclamation she’d expected, her breath caught in her throat.

For something to stop Zevran from flirting…

“You all go eat in the kitchens,” she ordered the other Wardens and then crooked a finger at the trio. “You three. My office. Now.”

Technically the breakfast waiting in her office and hers and Alistair’s but he’d have grabbed something from the kitchens since it was a first training day. After seeing the exhausted group arrive, he wouldn’t mind giving up his food despite whatever token complaints he might make later.

Her Wardens dug in with the fierce gusto of a recruit fresh from the Joining and the assassin wasn’t far behind them. Carina managed to pluck a biscuit and a few slices of bacon from a plate for herself and munched on them quietly as she regarded the three men in front of her.

Nathaniel looked even more somber than ever, which was a feat for the Howe. Given that his sister Delilah, her merchant husband, and his nephew had gone to Kirkwall with the expedition to help settle a deal for Amaranthine that would, in turn, help the Vigil, she’d have expected him to be less so.

There was something haunted hanging around Carver Hawke and she had the sickening feeling that whatever had happened involved his brother, Nicolas. The look in his blue eyes was an expression of loss she found all too familiar. She could remember seeing it in the mirror after she’d had to kill Leske, in Zevran’s when he’d revealed the sordid tale of being tricked into killing his lover, and in Alistair’s when she’d come back after seeking Morrigan to tell him nothing more than that he had a son and he was safe.

As Carina shifted her gaze to Zevran, she found the assassin looking at her. It had been a long time since she’d seen her friend and he looked a lot leaner, with harsher angles to his face, than he had years before. What sent a jolt of terror lancing down her spine was that he wasn’t hiding. He was watching her with his defenses open, letting her see his confusion and trauma from whatever had went on in Kirkwall.

Tearing her attention away from the elf, she focused on the more senior of her two Wardens.

“Nathaniel. What happened?”

He frowned for a long moment then answered, “We found the thaig easily enough. Carver remembered the way quite well considering how long it’s been since he was down there.”

Blue eyes darted up and Carina forced herself not to flinch at the emotion in them. She knew that emotion even after the long years away from Orzammar and Dust Town. That was knowing you’ve escaped death once only to stumble into another and part of her wanted to hug the young man.

Instead she focused back on Nathaniel and pressed, “And?”

“I got separated from the others. Thought I was going to go to my Calling early and then here comes this mad-cap group around a corner.” He turned his head towards Carver and the young Warden shook his head without looking up. Nathaniel nodded and continued, “The man leading them introduced himself as Hawke only but I’d already guessed who he was as Anders was with him.”

Her senior Warden shook his head then met her gaze across the desk. “He recognized me but he seemed…distracted. Looked like he had been through that nightmare with the Architect again only with much less sleep than we got getting out of that mine.”

Carina bowed her head at that, her fingers clenching into fists. “You think the rumors of his madness are true.”

It wasn’t really a question and Nathaniel knew it. He simply leaned back in his chair as Carver lifted his head, haunted blue eyes seeming to look somewhere beyond her.

“We know they are now,” he rasped. “News probably hasn’t come yet from Kirkwall.”

“News?” repeated Carina, looking between the three of them. “What news?” When none of them answered, she leaned forward and slapped a hand down on her desk. “I’m the commander of two of you and good friend to the other. Tell me!”

Zevran shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders with that languid grace of his, and answered, “Your wayward soul destroyed a Chantry, mí amiga.”

For a moment she wasn’t certain than she had heard correctly and blinked at him. When he leaned forward and laid his hand over hers with a sad smile on his face, Carina sank back into her chair.

“A Chantry,” she repeated. Then she bowed her head and covered her eyes with one hand as she muttered, “Oh, Anders. Why would you do that? Why would Justice convince you to do that?”

“Freedom for mages,” came Carver’s voice and she lowered her hand to find him looking at her now. “That was his excuse because the Grand Cleric wouldn’t take a side between the templars and the mages.”

He bared his teeth then and a wild look came into his eyes as he growled, “And Nicolas let him live. After all he did, all the blood that was shed, Nicolas let him live. The templars killed nearly every mage in the Gallows, Commander, because of what Anders did and my brother just let him walk away!”

“He won’t walk away,” said Carina, her eyes focused on the ceiling as she recalled all the terrible decisions she’d made in her life. “Not from himself. You can’t ever get away from yourself, Carver. You always – always – remember what you’ve done.”

“Rina,” breathed Zevran and she focused on her friend, forcing a smile.

“You know all too well that I’ve made terrible decisions, Zev. What else happened?”

“The Knight-Commander as well as the First Enchanter went mad,” answered Nathaniel. “We were there for the last but only heard about Orsino. He apparently used blood magic and turned himself into a monstrosity down in the depths of the Gallows.”

Carver cut in then, saying, “Meredith had the idol from the thaig and forged a sword with it. It…it made her powerful. She brought the Gallows statues to life with it before she turned into one herself.”

Carina just blinked at that, wondering how exactly the lyrium idol the younger Warden had nearly died for had done that, but shoved it aside. Finding out what had happened to her former Warden and after the battle was more important.

“What about after the battle?”

The three of them looked at each other then Carver growled, “They left.”

“Just like that?” asked Carina, looking to Nathaniel and Zevran for confirmation. At their nods, she continued, “Without supplies or anything? All of your brother’s companions?”

“Aveline stayed,” answered the young man. “She married one of the Guardsmen and she’s Captain. Said without anyone else to lead the city, she said she needed to stay, to keep order. I think Varric and Fenris may have stayed too.”

He shrugged one shoulder and continued, “Everyone else left with Nicolas. He barely even said goodbye or thanks for helping save our asses before he was off.”

Carina sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, then said, “That’s enough for now. Go get some sleep or, if you can’t, go bother Finn for one of his knockout potions. You all look fit to collapse and I’m not picking anyone up off my floor.” Looking at Zevran, she added, “We don’t have any spare rooms at the moment but there’s a cot set up behind that curtain that you can bunk on.”

She gestured at the heavy, Warden blue fabric hanging behind them and the elf nodded, silently making his way over and disappearing behind the curtain without another word. As she leaned back and laced her fingers across her belly, Nathaniel and Carver rose to leave but the younger man paused in the door, looking back at her uncertainly.

“He asked me to come with him,” he blurted suddenly and she arched her eyebrows in silent question. “Nicolas. Said he wanted to maybe try being brothers again.”

Carina waited for the span of a heartbeat then said, “You told him no.”

Carver smiled bitterly and nodded. “Too little, too late, more like it. I’m a Warden now…he made me a Warden.”

“I would have understood if you’d gone, Carver.”

“I know,” he said as he turned to go, “but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for leaving the only home I’d got left. Atrast tunsha, Commander.”

“Atrast tunsha.” Carina waited until the door had closed then she called out, “Zev?”

“I am still awake, mí amiga,” came the elf’s disembodied voice from the behind the curtain, low enough for her to know that while the other two were leaving, he had gotten out of his gear and collapsed. Or merely collapsed, who knew.

“How long do you think we have, before the repercussions hit us from what happened in Kirkwall?”

There was a long paused then Zevran answered, “Months. Perhaps a year if we are lucky. You believe the Circle will revolt despite what the Queen has done.”

“Anora isn’t as favorable to mages as Alistair or I am.” Carina didn’t mention that Alistair had gotten a lot more favorable towards them when he’d found out his actual birth mother was one whilst in Weisshaupt. “Finn keeps in touch with people he knew in the Tower still so we hear about what’s happening. It isn’t enough change to keep them from revolting when that news hits.”

Dropping her head into her hands, she continued, “Damnit, Zev, what happened to my Warden? What happened to my friend?”

Warm, bare arms wrapped around her and she leaned towards him, tucking her head underneath his chin, not even bothered by his silent appearance next to her chair.

“He has made his choices, Rina, and now he must deal with them on his own or with those who will take him. You need to worry about your Wardens.”

“And you?” asked Carina with a slight smile.

“There is no need to worry about me, mí amiga. I am the best, remember?” As she prodded him in the ribs, Zevran swiped her hand away and added, “Take care of your Wardens, yourself, and that silly templar of yours. I will be where I always am, watching your back.”

“How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

“It is nothing but a part of my charm. Is it working? Would you care to join me behind your luxurious curtain?”

The flirt didn’t have the usual spark behind it but it still made Carina laugh. She pulled herself out of his arms and hugged his neck since, on his knees next to her chair it was at the perfect height. “You know better,” she murmured as she pulled away. “And you need sleep more than sex. That was a terrible effort at flirting.”

Zevran shrugged, flashing a shadow of his usual smile, then grasped her hand to press a kiss against her fingers. “I cannot help but try until you say yes, bella.”

“Zev. Sleep.”

“As the lady commands,” he whispered as he bowed slightly. She watched him as he rose fluidly and disappeared behind the curtain again. Waiting until he had settled onto the cot and she heard him honestly sleeping, not just pretending to, she crept out of her office and locked the door behind her.

Alistair found her hours later on the top-most tower of the Vigil after he’d finished with the recruits training and used his status as Second to grab one of the first baths. Dressed in one of his shirts and pants only, she sat with her feet dangling off the edge of the tower and as he slid in behind her, he commented, “You should be more careful.”

Carina merely hummed as he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning her head back against his shoulder as he bent over her, she asked, “Is the rumor mill running?”

“You mean do I know what Anders did? Yes. I told the recruits and staff to keep it to themselves because he was a Warden, which makes it Warden business until we say otherwise.”

“Thank you.”

She started stroking his arm and he twisted his hand to capture hers, bringing it up to his lips. “Rina,” he breathed, “what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I recruited him, Alistair. If I’d known…”

“You would have recruited him anyway to keep him from whatever those templars were going to do to him,” interrupted Alistair in a stern voice. She couldn’t argue against that because she would do it again in a heartbeat just to see the pissed off look on that woman’s face. Oh, and Anora’s look of annoyance.

Looking out towards the lands surrounding the Vigil, Carina said, “Part of me hopes he comes here for help.”

“Carver might just kill him. He’s…two mage siblings makes him sympathetic to mages even if he doesn’t show it much. Anders forcing the issue, letting all those mages get killed, has him in a bad way.”

“He came and talked to you,” she noted and he nodded before pressing a kiss against her temple. “He’s conflicted about his brother. I think he thinks he agrees with what Anders did.”

Alistair shrugged and said, “Part of me agrees with the freedom bit after what I’ve seen mages and read about mages going through. Anders’ needs a bit more subtlety in his methods though. I’ve been suspecting it has something to do with Justice and the city since I heard about it. Kirkwall…there was something wrong with it. You could feel it, taste it in the air.”

“Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now.” Carina shook her head and closed her eyes, savoring the soothing presence of his body behind hers. “The Chantry will want him dead now instead of whatever they wanted to do before. And I can’t protect him from that.”

“You never could, love,” breathed Alistair and the tears she’d been holding back since hearing what her friend had done spilled down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his chin on top of her head, there for her as she cried for the man she could no longer save.