A/N: I don't own Dragon age.

The Ale?

Isabella ordered a round of drinks in perfect Antivian earning herself an impressed smile from Hawke and a disapproving one from Anders as a tray ladled with Antivian liquor were placed on the table. The bars in Antiva were a vast improvement from the ones in Kirkwall. Clean (by the Hanged Man standards) with blissful happy drunks and a band who actually knew how to play a lute.

"So broody, thoughts on the wine?" Varric asked Fenris. There was no answer from the elf. No one pushed it, the tight set of his face was more than enough for everyone to gain the impression that he'd prefer not to be spoken to. What was going on? First Fen' Harel went all hypersensitive and now Fenris looked as though he'd prefer to be dead.

"For courage?" Varric grinned at Carver as he downed another class.

"Is Baby Hawke all anxious about seeing his squeeze?" I winked.

Carver sputtered.

"She's not my squeeze!" he argued before mumbling, "far from it."
"In fact shouldn't she be here by now?" Varric said scanning the warm, intoxicated room for any sign of the Warden.

And as if summoned, the door was flung open the oval of bottle green glass at its head rattling disturbingly. A circle of golden Antivian light was cut into the wall where the door had been and streamed the floor. The profile of the Warden Commander seemed huge and impressive there, completely shadowed with light flooding in behind her.

"Carver!" she commanded in a heavily accented Orlesian voice.

"Yes?" Carver's voice became milder when faced with his god like image.

"Where is my pint?" she demanded.

"It's already here, Commander."

"Ah," the Commander slammed the door behind her, the two accompanying Wardens having to skitter and jump aside.

As Warden Commander Leonie strode forward she became less and less intimidating. She was tiny especially for a human with the strong, stable body of warrior only in miniature. Both traits lost their benefits when combined together. She couldn't appear dainty and cute like Merrill when her arms were muscled and her face was rigid and unwavering but neither could she appear intimidating and impressive like Aveline with her pixie like stature.

Instead the Warden Commander belonged to a no mans land of both and neither which tended to leave people with a loss for words. Leonie had an arrow shaped nose, large full lips that seemed puckered constantly and two sharp silver eyes like little coins. Her hair was a lion's mane of fifthly blonde and added to the resemblance of those small wild animals that take on prey three sizes bigger than themselves.

"Carver," she said appalled, her voice was booming, it resonated through the Tavern like a breath of wind, "are you gaining weight?"

She prodded his stomach.

"That flab will not do! You are lose it immediately," she tutted.

"Er, Warden Commander?" Hawke hesitantly offered a hand. It was immediately snatched up by a tiny but sturdy hand and shaken vigorously and strongly. Hawke had to rub his arm once the Commander had returned her hostage.

"You must be Garrett. It's a pleasure," she beamed, "Ah but I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news. You see I believe I may have been followed."

...

Anders stood. He made tea. He sat down. He stared at said tea. He got up. He looked out the window. He sat down. He got up again sighing with frustration.

He wondered what Hawke was doing out there without him to guard his back. He wondered if he were safe. And it was these thoughts that refused to allow Anders to settle. Hawke would only gently scold him for worrying later. Not that Anders minded Hawke's scoldings or where they lead to. But he wondered how Hawke could ask him not to worry because asking him not to worry was akin to asking him not to care.

"Was Hawke still after all these years so blind to how much he meant to me?" Anders wondered. Then he wondered where Hawke was and if he were safe.

These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing opposite his room. The sound seemed so loud in the now silence of the halted ship. Curiosity piqued and with the need for a distraction, Anders opened the door and peered round to see Fen' Harel slip into Merrill's room.

Those of Hawke's companions who'd been left behind were all collected in that room; Anders wanted the company now if only to serve as a distraction. But the thought of facing Fen' Harel after yesterday was daunting. How did someone deal with the news of their imminent death? But Fen' Harel was tough, always bouncing back or so he had believed. It was only when she was tucked away in a corner and folded against Fenris' chest in Hanged Man that he noticed it, the vulnerability, and the pain in her eyes when she smiled and joked away concerns.

It was these thoughts that caused Anders to linger in the doorway. It was clear by Fen' Harel's unguarded posture that she wasn't yet aware of his presence. Despite a constant tired expression Anders unlike the others believed that pregnancy made Fen' Harel more beautiful. The bump was soft not bloated, her body delicate not weak. She was reading to Merrill again. She was a couple of pages through when she sighed and let the book slip lazily to the floor.

"Do you really want me to read this again?" she asked. For a moment Anders froze in surprise that she was addressing him. But Fen' Harel only leaned forward and continued to speak to the unconscious Merrill.

"I must have gone over this chapter at least six times in the last week," she smirked, "It's no surprise you won't wake. If you did you might actually have to listen to this crap."

She studied Merrill's sleeping face.

"I wish I could just go to sleep for months and not wake up," she grumbled.

"You haven't heard have you? No I suspect you wouldn't have unless Hawke and Anders have been giggling and gossiping away in the corner," she sighed before adjusting Merrill's sheets carefully and plopping herself on the bed next to her.

"What's it like?" she asked, "being stuck their in your head all the time?"

"I suppose it's alot like being awake," Anders interjected.

Fen' Harel spun around, a look of displeasure on her face.

"Sneaking up on people is very suspicious behaviour," she frowned, "what if you'd heard all mine and Merrill's bitching and gossiping? It could have really damaged your ego."

"I was just wondering how your doing," I moved into the room. It was still musky with sickness and stale lint laden air. I pulled up a chair on the other side of Merrill's bed, the cushion giving a soft 'poof' as I seated myself.

"I'm fine," she smiled rubbing at her eyes with her balled fists.

"Wait!" she straightened, ears visibly straining like an alert Mabari, "can you hear that?"

I paused. There was the continuous screaming of the gulls and the sound of the three people collected in the room breathing but nothing else. Still Fen' Harel sat as if she were being pulled upwards by an invisible rope. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for this unknown disruption.

She struggled up and pulled the curtain from the small circular window.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Anders do you know where the lifeboats are?"

...

Warden Commander Leonie downed her ale in one brutish slug.

"Are you all armed?" she asked in her booming voice.

"Of course we're armed," Carver whispered furiously leaning in towards his commander from across the table, "why? Who is it?"

"I'm unsure at the moment," she mused, lips screwing up, "at first I thought Templars but Templars actually managing stealth? PAH!"

The Warden Commander had a fifthly laugh and now exercised it, her Grey Warden Amor clipping and clashing as her tiny body shook with it.

"What do you suggest?" Hawke asked.

"Nothing much to do but walk out of here," Leonie cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms.

"Walk out of here?" Hawke asked.

Leonie looked across with a beastly grin at the stoic male Warden over her shoulder. He nodded once.

"You all better grab your balls and follow me," Leonie grinned her Orlesian accent sounding richer than before with the promise of battle singing through her veins.

She stood, placed a great sack of money on the table and smiled at the rat faced man at the bar. Before a wave of force magic was pulsed through the wall, timber and brick ripping away in a desperate burst of noise. Warden Commander Leonie walked out, over the rubble and broken glass and into the smoke bombs that had denoted in the rapidly empting street.

A hail of arrows came pouring down from the roofs of the surrounding buildings. Another pulse from the mage Warden and the arrows splintered mid-journey and it was tiny shards of wood that assailed the Commanders still striding form.

"C'mon out, you dogs," she bellowed into the empty street.

Hawke and his companions were now pouring out behind her.

Leonie waited a moment in the heavy silence.

"Grow some balls and show yourselves," she commanded.

"No need," a voice slipped out from the smoke, "you'll all be sleeping peacefully before you can draw your weapons."

"The ale?" Varric suggested.

"Bollocks," Leonie spat before her body went limp and slipped onto the pile of rubble.

...

"Grab Merrill," Fen' Harel instructed, whipping around the room.

She left as I pulled Merrill's unconscious form from the bed and pulled her bridal style into my arms (she was lighter than I expected). Fen' Harel returned; arms stuffed full of her armour and weapons, Merrill's staff and bags full of gold.

"Off we go," she smiled lop-sided.

Fen' Harel flung the door open for me and hobbled furiously onto the deck. Roughly shoving tarp and rope aside she dumped the equipment into the little boat before shoving me roughly in.

"What are you doing?" I asked crossly as her hands pushed my butt into the tiny craft.

"Saving your life again it seems," she winked.

Muttering angrily to myself I watched as she slumped Merrill in behind me and began to work on freeing our tiny boat from the ship. She kicked and shoved the boat to the edge of the deck before hauling herself in.

I cringed as she pushed us free using Merrill's staff and the boat dropped into the clear Antivian sea with the sensation of my stomach leaving my body.

Merrill's body juddered, her head limply slapping the side of the boat.

"Ow," Merrill groaned, eyes cracking open for the first time in months. She was ignored however as glass bottles broke against the sides of the ship spewing fire in great opening flowers of heat and flame. As the ship sank and broke under the weight of the fire's brutality only one thought registered in my brain.

Isabella was going to be pissed.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter =) I thought we needed abit more action even though I'm not entirely sure how Anders, a pregnant elf and a blood mage recovering from a coma is going to save everyone :/

THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING :D