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The Wardens had finally caught up with them. It had been three hours on the move since Anders first sensed them, but the rain had slowed them down.
It was a small group of Wardens, consisting of an Orlesian man named Stroud, Bethany, and an older man with dark black hair and tired blue eyes. The sight of the man made Agatha draw her bassrath-kata and snarl like a mabari with its hackles raised. Bethany’s soft pleading was the only thing that made her lower the blade. The man said nothing, even when Agatha spat in his direction and called him the Traitor Teyrn.
They wanted to speak with Hawke. Only Hawke. The three Wardens spoke to her in hushed whispers. Agatha was silent, her hand never leaving the pommel of the bassrath-kata. Fenris only caught a few words, but the words Red Lyrium made his ears flick. Whatever they want, Fenris thought, it will be nothing good.
The abomination was more than happy to stay out of the Warden nonsense. He sat next to Merrill by the fire. The blood mage was cooking stew. Both of them kept glancing over to the group of Wardens. Sometimes, Merill whispered something to the abomination, no doubt whatever she had heard the Wardens whisper.
Fenris leaned against the tree, its wood cold against his back. Evangeline played with her doll on his lap, his chin resting gently atop her black hair. The doll’s little red dress grew dirty with Harvestmere mud. He would have to wait until she was asleep to wash it. Fenris held the little girl tight in his arms. Hopefully, all they want is information and soon they will be on their way.
The Wardens finished talking. Agatha left without a word. She passed Merrill and Anders. Even from a distance Fenris could tell the look on her face was grim.
“Mama!” Eva wiggled out of Fenris’s arms. Her doll abandoned, she ran right to her mother and wrapped her arms around her legs.
Agatha smiled and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Go bother your Papa, Pumpkin.”
Eva nodded. She retrieved her doll, pressed a single kiss to Fenris’s cheek, then ran off in the direction of the abomination and Merrill. The abomination let out a loud groan as Evangeline crashed into his chest.
“Are they leaving?” Fenris didn’t bother to hide the bluntness of his tone. It was always good to see Bethany, but there was something… off with this group of Wardens. They are being far too secretive, even for Wardens. Like Janeka in that cursed prison.
“They’re not leaving.” Agatha settled next to him. She intertwined their fingers together and rested her head against his shoulder. She sighed as her eyes fluttered shut. “Something is brewing in the ranks of the Orlesian Wardens. Whispers of Red Lyrium and an Elder One, whatever that is.” Agatha’s face furrowed. “Fucking Maskers. They always fuck everything up.”
“What do they want?” Fenris ears flicked. She wasn’t wrong about the Orlesians.
Agatha stayed quiet for a few minutes. He waited for her to speak. Finally, she whispered, “They want me to come with them.”
Somehow, he managed not to sit up straight. Don’t move her. She needs all the rest she can get. At some point after they fled Kirkwall, a tiredness had seeped into Agatha’s bones. “Why?”
“I was the one to kill Meredith. They think I could help with the research, or something like that. And…” She hesitated. “There’s the whole thing with my Dad’s blood and that prison we found.”
It had been years since they delved into the depths of that cursed prison, but the mention of it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was filled with darkspawn, old ghosts, and whatever Corypheus was.
“When do we leave?” Fenris looked at her. She looked almost ragged. The years on the run from templars and the mobs hell-bent on pursuing their little group had not been kind.
She straightened. “No. We’re splitting up.” Her eyes were on Eva and the abomination. The abomination was in the midst of playing with the little girl and her doll. “Anders will take Evangeline somewhere safe, and Merrill can head up north, far away from this war and… whatever the Wardens are doing.”
“I will come with you.” Fenris squeezed her hand. He didn’t like the idea of Eva being left alone with the abomination, but he knew not to argue. I will always lose that battle, no matter what.
“No.” Agatha’s vibrant blue eyes flicked back to the Wardens. She opened her mouth, then shut it. “I have a bad feeling about this, Fenris.” Her voice was soft, almost unsure of herself.
“A… feeling?” His brows furrowed.
She nodded. “When Carver joined King Cailan, I got this… pit in my stomach. A feeling. That’s the best way I can describe it. So I went with him to Ostagar, and, well, you know how badly that went,” Agatha tugged at the strand of hair that covered her blind eye. “I had the same feeling the first time I saw those damn statues in Kirkwall’s harbor.”
“And you have one now?”
“I do.” She rested her head back on his shoulder. “Every time I have one of these feelings, someone I love dies. It goes bad. I can’t let any of you come with me. Not this time.” Her voice faltered. “I can’t lose you.”
Fenris was quiet. She squeezed his gauntleted hand. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Promise me you won’t die, Agatha. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.”
“I’ll do my best,” she whispered.
He pressed a kiss against her dark locks.