All Mabari Go to The Maker

Yes, the title is a reference to All Dogs Go to Heaven, but this is not a crossover story. It's a Dragon Age story that ties Origins, Dragon Age 2, and Inquisition together through late night nostalgic storytelling among a few of the characters. I wrote it sometime in the first year after Inquisition was released. 

I've got some notes about references to things that come up during the conversation, and I'll put those after the story. 

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"It's no Hanged Man. Then again, Skyhold's no Kirkwall."

"Thank the Maker for small favors."

Cullen almost walked right back out of the tavern. He had hoped to find the place empty at such a late hour. As empty as it ever was, anyway. Iron Bull was likely to be in there, but he and Cullen usually just nodded to each other and each continued to mind their own business. Hearing the voices of Varric Tethras and the Champion of Kikrwall as soon as he opened the door, though, didn't bode well for a quiet evening.

Of course, as one of the Inquisitor's closest advisors, Cullen knew the Champion was at Skyhold even if she was keeping to the shadows. There were good reasons not to let her presence become common knowledge. Knowing she was there and coming face-to-face with her were two different things, though, and Cullen wasn't sure he was prepared for a meeting. He didn't pretend that he didn't carry past troubles with him. He didn't necessarily want his face pushed into them, either. It had taken time after being recruited into Cassandra's fledgling Inquisiton before he could truly handle having part of himself thrown back into the Circle Tower of Ferelden every time he saw Leliana. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he was glad to have Varric along just to know he wasn't the only person here who had experienced what happened in Kirkwall. But to hear the familiar laughter between the dwarf and the Champion? It unsettled him.

"Come have a drink with us, Curly!" Varric's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once and Cullen wondered briefly how long he had been standing in the doorway. Herald's Rest was an almost empty tavern at the moment, and Varric's voice carried when the dwarf wanted to be heard. 

Pretty sure he always wants to be heard, Cullen thought to himself.

Cullen approached the table nearest the fireplace, where Varric and the Champion were seated across from each other. "Varric. Cham..uh... Serah Hawke. I was...uh..."

"Sit down, Curly. You were going to drink alone. Now you're going to drink with us."

Sometimes it just wasn't worth it to argue with Varric. A few moments of social obligation would then allow Cullen to make his apologies and leave for the rest of the night. The Champion had gestured to the seat next to her, so Cullen perched himself there in a way he hoped didn't look nearly as awkward as it felt.

"I was just telling Hawke she should join us for Wicked Grace this week. Everybody who shows up knows she's here."

Cullen nodded. "I couldn't help but overhear you mention your former, uh... What was the place to you? Did you actually live in a bar in Lowtown?"

Varric smiled in an almost genuinely happy way. That wasn't as common from him these days as it had once been. "The fact that you even ask tells me you already know. Whatever property I do or do not own in Kirkwall, it's the Hanged Man that is home."

"It always sounded like a terribly morbid name for a tavern."

"You know Lowtown, Templar, " Hawke spoke in a gently teasing tone. "Sunshine and pony parades. Twice on elven holidays in the alienage."

Cullen was about to protest and explain himself when Varric spoke up. "Did I ever tell you what Rivaini told me about the meaning of a 'hanged man'?"

Hawke snickered. "Do you think I couldn't possibly imagine what Isabela would say about that? Really, Varric?"

"Now, now... nothing like that! She was much more likely to use weapon euphemisms. No, this was something she learned from one of the Rivaini seers. She said there's a meaning for a 'hanged man' in some forms of divination. Poor sod's pretty much strung up like the sign outside, except he's still alive and the branch he's hanging from is sprouting leaves and flowers, baby nugs in springtime, I don't know. The point is, he's not about death at all. He's about everything fairly literally hanging in the balance. That place in time that everything could become anything and you're just waiting for something to tip it all in one direction or another."

Hawke stood up and went to find more drinks for them behind the bar. "Reminds me of something Flemeth said to me," she called out. " Something about, 'We stand upon the precipice of change and the world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss.' Something like that."

"Did you really meet Flemeth?" Cullen asked as he took his drink from Hawke. "The Flemeth?"

"Twice, actually," Hawke replied. "Kind of carried her around in my pocket for a year. I didn't know it at the time."

"And you think I tell crazy stories," Varric chuckled.

"That was because of the first time I met her, though. She saved us from a darkspawn attack. Most of us. Aveline's husband was still with us, but the taint had him bad. Carver had just been killed by an ogre. My mother never got over seeing her only son die that way."

There was nothing lighthearted about the death of a loved one, and Cullen felt almost responsible for making Hawke think of it now. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"You met my sister, though."

Cullen flinched. It had never been easy to take a mage away from their family. Bethany Hawke hadn't fought, but her mother began grieving the loss of her daughter as soon as Cullen entered the shack they were living in.

Hawke's tone softened. "You don't have to say it... I know. You were doing your job. Truth is, I sometimes thought Bethany was safer in the Circle. Some of you templars weren't complete brutes, I was doing my best to keep tabs on her, and the rest of Kirkwall couldn't get her there."

Varric set his drink back on the table and stretched. "I'm not sure what we would have done with more Hawkes, anyway. And just imagine if your brother had become a templar!"

Hawke laughed. "Maker preserve us! I can see it, too. Carver might have taken to templar life well, if he could have stopped complaining for five minutes."

Cullen fidgeted uncomfortably. Ask about the mabari, he thought. That's a safe subject. "How is your mabari? I always rather liked him." He knew it was the wrong question when Varric started shaking his head.

"He died a few months ago." Hawke's voice was nearly a whisper.

Cullen felt like his stomach was attempting to slide down into his boots. "Maker's breath! I am so sorry! I..uh.." This would have been an excellent moment to leave if it weren't for the fact that it would look like he was running away. He very much wanted to run away. "Truly, I always admired that dog. His loyalty to you... I just... Words cannot..."

One thing Varric Tethras had great command of was his own timing. It was infuriating when he allowed one to stew in trouble they'd made for themself. It was a blessing when he decided to save one from that same trouble. "Curly's probably more native Ferelden than you are, Hawke. His family wasn't outcasts from the Free Marches. Probably has a fondness for mabari bred into him."

The door on the upper floor of the tavern that led outside creaked open. There was no sound of footsteps. "Sounds like Nightingale's here," Varric muttered.

Leliana, the Inquisition's spymaster, descended the stairs. "You know who is opening a door based on the sound, Varric?"

"To be fair, it's the lack of sound. Cole wouldn't have to open the door at all. Anybody else, I'd hear their feet stomping all over the place once they came in."

Leliana raised an eyebrow as she looked down at him from where she stood at the end of the table. "Let me know if you ever tire of gambling and gossiping with Scout Harding. I'm sure I could find work for you." She nodded to Hawke and Cullen. "I wondered why I saw lights inside so late. Would anyone mind if I joined you?"

Varric gestured to the seat next to him, directly opposite Cullen. Hawke handed over a bottle from the armful she had brought back to the table earlier. "A friend of Varric's is... well, I guess you didn't really say you were his friend."

"Come on, Hawke... we're clearly all friends here. No one's tried to kill me or lock me in a dungeon."

"Not this week, anyway." Leliana didn't smile, but she didn't look angry as she took her seat, either. It was a safe bet that she was joking.

"We were talking about Hawke's mabari. It turns out he was the only one of us Curly didn't have it in for back in Kirkwall."

"I never 'had it in' for any of you. I simply..." Varric was just dangling bait in front of him, and Cullen knew it. He felt like a fool for going for it every time. "I liked the dog. He was strong, loyal. I think a good templar is like a good mabari, in some ways."

"How many times have you bit someone on the ass before begging them to rub your belly?" Hawke asked.

"Is someone keeping him for you?" Leliana asked. "I have a few animal friends, too. I miss them dearly."

Varric rolled his eyes. "She thinks nugs are pets."

Hawke took a drink and smiled. "I wouldn't have one as a pet, but I wouldn't eat one, either. No, my mabari died a few months ago. Cullen didn't know that, and we were...I guess you could say we're catching up on gossip."

"I am so sorry to hear that. I knew a fine mabari once."

"You knew the Hero of Ferelden's mabari!" Varric exclaimed. "Why don't you ever tell the good stories? You've got enough of them."

Leliana looked at her drink. "I... don't tell stories anymore."

"I'll tell one." The other three turned to look at Hawke. She finished her drink, opened another bottle, and started pouring it into her tankard. "Right after my mother was... my mother was murdered. He had sent her flowers. The man who killed her did. It was maybe a week after that, and..."

Varric reached across the table and laid a hand on Hawke's arm for just a second. His voice was low and gentle. "I think I know which one you're going to tell. We both know I tell it better." Despite his wording, Hawke's friend was clearly offering her lifeline if she needed it.

Hawke nodded in a very relieved way, and Varric picked up the story. "The flowers were the killer's calling card. You have to understand the man was sick in the head. He had been kidnapping women and trying to use some kind of necromancy to bring back his dead wife. In a manner of speaking. He was trying to rebuild her from women who looked just like her. Hawke's mother was a lovely woman, and apparently this guy's wife had a lovely face. You can put enough of the pieces together yourself."

Cullen glanced at Hawke. He had known Leandra Hawke was gruesomely murdered, but it had been difficult at the time to discern between fact and rumor. If Varric's story was true, most of what he had heard was fact.

"It was a busy time in Kirkwall. The qunari were getting restless. One of our friends was secretly planning to blow up the Chantry. Another friend was secretly part of the reason the qunari were getting restless. Someone in the Chantry was part of the reason the qunari were getting restless. I think Hawke can be forgiven for not keeping the old family estate tidy for a while. But the flowers are still there a week or so later. Now, Hawke's got this guy named Bodhan and his son working for her, and.."

"Bodhan?!" Leliana interrupted. "It couldn't be!"

Hawke and Varric exchanged glances. "I'm usually pretty good at remembering names, Nightingale. Bodhan Feddic and his.."

"... son Sandal! Really?!" Leliana's face suddenly lit up with joy.

"Hold on." Hawke held up a hand. "Bodhan told me more than once that he and Sandal knew the Hero of Ferelden. He wasn't just bragging?"

"Not at all! Bodhan and Sandal traveled with us. Sandal was very gifted at enchanting items. Oh, and he did love that mabari."

Hawke nodded. "That's Sandal, alright. Please, Varric... go on."

"Well, Hawke's got Bohan working as a sort of butler. He felt like he owed her for tracking Sandal down when he got lost in the Deep Roads. He started spreading himself a bit thin around the place, trying too hard to make everything 'just right'. Some folks do that when they grieve. He's not watching the dog. So Hawke comes home one day and the whole place smells like somebody's been burning the wrong herbs."

"My first thought was that this had to be the stupidest attempt at a spell to enter the Fade anyone had ever heard of. It stank! I thought about asking Varric if I could stay with him at the Hanged Man until the smell cleared out."

"But who was burning things?" Cullen asked.

"Hawke's dog! The damn dog managed to get the flowers out of the vase without knocking the whole thing over and threw them into the fireplace! Hawke finds the poor animal curled up on one of her mother's skirts, just glaring at the fire like he hated those flowers."

"I think he did hate them, "Hawke said. "Mabari are very smart. I think he knew where they came from. We just sat there together in front of the fire for a while. I was crying too hard to be bothered by the smell right then. I fell asleep on him. I woke up and he just licked... well, I think he was going for my nose, but a mabari tongue gets your whole face."

Silence settled over them all for a moment. Cullen eventually spoke directly to Hawke. "He was a fine beast. I know you and I often found ourselves on opposite sides of things, but there was never any question that dog was a friend anyone could have been proud to have."

"You know," Leliana spoke up, "the Hero of Ferelden... the Warden... was once saved by her mabari before she became a Grey Warden." In spite of the fact that she had not been drinking from the bottle Hawke gave to her when she joined them, the spy was feeling more relaxed than she usually allowed herself to be. "They had to be seperated from each other briefly at Ostagar. She told me once she thought it may have been that the dog would never have allowed her to go through the Joining."

"I asked Blondie about the Joining once." A frown crossed Varric's face. It was the way he frowned when something truly disturbed him. "He wouldn't or couldn't tell me what they do, but I know this... if it's not blood magic, it's close enough."

"I imagine it may be a variation of the ritual one goes through to become a full-fledged templar." As soon as everyone turned to look at him, Cullen felt embarrassed. The history of the Grey Wardens wasn't something anyone outside of their order was very knowledgeable about and Cullen felt self-concious when speaking about any subject that he wasn't sure he knew the facts. "It's just a guess."

"You're not helping me feel any more comfortable about templars, Curly."

Cullen chuckled sadly. "Believe me, Varric, any doubts have crossed my mind, as well. Plus a million more." He took a drink, then looked off across the tavern as if lost in thought. "Can you imagine being a templar with a mabari? How would you get the dog to drink the lyrium? Does the Maker take mabari to his side?"

"I know they can tell right from wrong," Hawke said. "They celebrate, they grieve."

"Hell... Hawke's dog could actually play Wicked Grace! Beat me more often than I want to admit."

"They can be selfless and brave, just as any person can be. I do not think I understand anymore what the Maker does," Leliana looked uncomfortable, "but I cannot imagine He would leave them outside of whatever mercy He extends to the rest of us."

Some of Cullen's favorite words from the Chant came to mind. His voice was more confident this time as he spoke. "For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

Something broke inside Hawke at that moment. Something she had been pushing back so she could keep pushing forward. Tears rolled down her face and a couple of gasping sobs escaped her. "He died because he saved me! He just ran forward and... All I could think about was how Carver ran up like that when the ogre... Stupid dog! How can a creature so smart not know to save itself?!"

She was shaking and sobbing. Varric looked down at his drink and sighed heavily and sadly. Leliana looked away, facing the fireplace. Her face was hidden from the rest of them. Cullen felt awkward and out of place, but did not know what else to do, so he rested his hand on one of Hawke's shoulders. Even Varric looked surprised when this resulted in a grieving, sobbing woman leaning against the former templar and letting her pain wash over her. After a few seconds, Cullen was able to hold her the way one might hold a scared child.

Leliana began to softly hum. Varric recognized the tune, having learned the song from some of the Ferelden refugees in Kirkwall. He was more of a storyteller than a singer, though, so he let her hum on her own. He checked to make sure Hawke was really going to be okay as she got herself together and Cullen moved a few inches away from her. The dwarf nodded to him to reassure him that he'd done just fine by letting the Champion of Kirkwall fall apart all over him for a few minutes.

Surprisingly, it was Cullen who first started to sing. The alcohol, the fireplace, the stories... they all blended together with the familiar tune from his childhood. He may not have felt that he was among friends here, but the Inquisition was its own special sort of familiy at times. In this moment, he thought maybe he understood why Varric could live in a tavern.

"You know Andraste's old mabari,

He don't show up in the Chant.

And if you ask those holy sisters,

Well, they say Andraste can't

Have had some big ol' smelly wardog.

But all Ferelden knows it right:

Our sweet Lady needed someone

Who would warm her feet at night."

Hawke laughed and joined in.

"And there's Andraste's mabari

By the Holy Prophet's side!

In the fight against Tevinter,

That dog would never hide!

They say the Maker made him special,

Always loyal, without pride,

So he could be the sworn companion

of the Maker's Holy Bride."

Varric would never have admitted to anything, but the bass notes in the next verse certainly couldn't have come from Leliana.

"Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste

Without arrogance or fear,

Only asking of his mistress

Just a scratch behind the ears.

But then ol' Maf'rath gets to plotting,

Tries to lure that dog away.

But even as they trap the Prophet,

Her mabari never strays.

And there's Andraste's mabari

By the Holy Prophet's side!

In the fight against Tevinter,

That dog would never hide!

They say the Maker made him special,

Always loyal, without pride,

So he could be the sworn companion

of the Maker's Holy Bride.

Oh, they thought the wounds had killed him,

But then he limped out toward the fire.

And Hessarian, he shed a tear,

As that dog laid on the pyre."

The soft, lovely voice of the bard who no longer told stories joined the others just before the end. Wherever the Maker is, she thought, He must surely hear this.

"And there's Andraste's mabari

By the Holy Prophet's side!

In the fight against Tevinter,

That dog would never hide!

They say the Maker made him special,

Always loyal, without pride,

So he could be the sworn companion

of the Maker's Holy Bride.

Yes, that mabari's the companion

Of the Maker's Holy Bride!"

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A few notes on how things tie together:

It is possible that Leliana was in the player's party during the events at the Circle Tower in Origins. In that case, Cullen may remember her.

If Carver did not die on the way to Kirkwall, it was possible he could become a Templar.

If Bethany did not die and did not become a Grey Warden, Cullen was the one who took her to the Circle.

A Cousland Warden in Origins was saved by their mabari the night their family was killed.

Cullen quotes the Chant from the Canticle of Trials.

The lyrics to "Andraste's Mabari" are found in Haven in Inquisition.

Varric's explanation of divination and Hanged Man is about tarot cards. The conversation doesn't happen in the game, but I never spent much time with Isabella in my party and wanted a way to include some mention of her in this story.