"I guess we did it. We're here to stay," Carver said, double checking his blade had no residue blood, "at least for a while."
Hopefully we stay longer than we spent flying a dragon, Aveline thought.
Despite the many wealthy citizens, the sight of Hightown across the square was isolating, like the stretch of bodies decaying on winding paths outside Lothering. Nothing felt certain. The news that the Hawkes now had somewhere to stay meant little. It was another step to evading death, nothing more. The odour of taint lingered on her clothes. The noble the brothers had slain was almost a pleasant favour compared to all the darkspawn killed recently.
"Until the debt is paid, Carver," Garrett said, "I won't have you chicken out like you do playing Rithmomachia."
"I don't. I'm not good with numbers," Carver retorted, "and you cheat."
Lucky you, Hawkes. You'll get used to cheating, I suspect, Aveline thought, "With your new line of work that ethic might have some use, Garrett."
"Bethany…" Leandra lamented.
Aveline was sure she had mourned the loss of Wesley the same number of times Leeandra had her daughter to grieve, if not more family– except she had the decency not to say it out loud.
"What would she say of us if she was here?"
"She'd agree that Garrett was a cheat," Carver blurted out, before his brother could interrupt.
"I think she'd be pleased we are not locked out of the city," Garrett said, and he turned to Leandra, "What now?"
The woman looked uncomfortable, "I suppose we go to Lowtown and..."
"Wait for Gamlen," Carver finished.
"What will you do, Aveline?" Garrett turned to her. Suddenly, more eyes were on her then since she'd had the darkspawn horde.
"Dear, don't put her under so much pressure," Leandra told her eldest, and most egotistical son. The mother turned to look at Aveline as she continued, "I will convince Gamlen to house you too even if I argue all night for it."
"Thank you for the thought," Aveline replied, though the emotional weight didn't feel lifted, "Your debt applies only to your family. The contacts only accepted you because of your uncle, so it would be better if I found other employment, so I don't incur more debt in your name."
An image of Wesley entered her mind. Could she be a Templar, like him? It would secure housing and income for herself. The Templars probably weren't as elite as the Chevaliers in Orlais, though it would still be an honourable position.
She frowned. With her husband gone, joining the Templars would be hitting too close to home, and having barely escaped the Blight, she didn't fancy joining the Grey Wardens or signing up to be a simple Knight either. This was a chance at a new life. A new work practice could be enlivening.
Aveline scanned the buildings again, the daunting cream towers with flat rooftops. Hightown was –she thought- the wealthy part of the city. Wouldn't the Viscount require someone to work in his service? Could he require more?
"There must be someone Aveline could talk to," Leeandra said, "Maker help us. I may be old, but I have not lost my senses yet."
Carver coughed loudly at his mother's words, making a sound awfully like 'Garrett'.
"Even if we have lost Bethany," Leandra continued, ignoring her son's antics.
Directing her vision to those in the square, Aveline watched the Guard Captain Ewald, who ushered away another group of refugees. Could she ask him about jobs for the Viscount?
"Wait there," she informed them, "I won't be long."
Without another glance at her companions, she sauntered to the Guard Captain's side and observed Gamlen return to the Hawkes' as she waited for the irate refugees to leave.
"Oh. You again." Ewald sighed, as he saw her, "Did you discover how to gain residence into the city or not?"
"It is resolved for my friends, though not for me." Grumpy tit, Aveline thought. Maybe some humour would cheer him up, "It isn't like I'm not used to it. As usual, the ginger was left behind to become a pile of bones."
Ewald took another glance at the Hawkes, as though double checking they indeed didn't have red hair, "Trying to be clever. It won't work at this precise time in the afternoon. What can I help you with?"
"My name is Aveline Vallen. I used to work as a soldier in service to King Cailan's armies," she explained, "Big words for a fleeing Fereldan to admit, I know. I encourage you to check with the Viscount, if you can. Ser Cauthrien, second in command to General Mac Tir, will be capable of confirming my story. Is there any job in Kirkwall with a similar position?"
"Confirming tales of that magnitude will take weeks in this anarchy," Ewald noted, and though his expression was the same flatness and his focus was still on scanning what lay in front, Aveline could tell she had gotten his attention, "It might have been useful to open with that line when you got here."
"I didn't think about it," Aveline replied honestly, "Not with so much other chaos going on."
"Unfortunately, all positions within the Viscount's office are already taken" Ewald replied. Looked bored, he peered over to a family of refugees, caught eyes with some other guards and pointed over to them. "Not with what I would call competent types, but there you are. Assuming your story isn't just that…I take it you have proficient combat and diplomacy skills?"
"That's correct, Guard Captain."
"What do you think about the City Guard?" Ewald inquired, "I have someone leaving in a few days. We'll keep you in a spare room, and I can interview you in the morning. Too busy tonight, and I can assure you I am more irritated about it than you are."
The Ferelden held back a sigh. While she had managed worse on the way here, and having spent the past three days on the street, she hoped this meant she wouldn't be on the floor.
"That would be very much appreciated, Guard Captain," Aveline said, with a smile.
"Great," Ewald said, not appearing like he thought it was pleasant at all, "I'll get one of the boys to walk you there – Broden!" he waved his arms, like trying to hit his subordinate over the head, "Yes, you. Get over, yes, walk… use your damned legs. MOVE."
Not sure whether to roll her eyes or smile at the Guard Captain delegating instructions to someone too far away to hear them, she stepped away.
"While you wait for your colleague's legs to work, I need to have a quick word with my friends. Thank you."
"Fantastic. Get them out of my peripheral vision," Ewald muttered, still looking impatiently over at one of the other guards.
Hopeful, she felt the warmth of the sun for the first time since leaving Ostagar.
"Is everything alright, Aveline?" Leandra hushed, looking very worried, "The Guard looks like he has a bit of a temper."
"Guard Captain, mother," Garrett corrected.
"He didn't show his temper to me. If it isn't alright, you'll be the first to know," Aveline said, ignoring Garrett, "If I'm lucky you might see me as a member of the City Guard soon. My interview's tomorrow."
"Damn it," Carver cursed. Was he jealous?
"Maker help you, big girl. With the interview, I mean. Bloody interviews," Gamlen said, who wasn't really paying attention, "You got a better deal than the rest of us."
"As long as my luck holds up," Aveline said. It all depended on whether she got through the interview stage, but at least this was a start, "And if I do get the position, thank you, and…" don't be stupid and get yourself caught, "be careful."
They had only known each other during this journey, and while they'd shared many conversations within that time, she wasn't expecting to feel so empty at the thought of being parted from them.
The embraces of goodbye from her new friends were… surreal. When Carver hugged her, the lack of beard made her think of Wesley for a moment. His absence was what made it strange. She wasn't a physically affectionate person to anyone, even Wesley, and she hadn't been completely on her own for a few years, at least. She hoped she'd survive the trial.
I hope you are proud of me for getting here, she thought, absently thinking of her fallen husband.
Broden was not a welcoming sort. His eyebrows were as stern as his tone. Behind the visor he looked older than the Guard Captain himself. Silence endured between them as houses and businesses turned into squares of distance.
When Hightown's landscape turned into another stretch of tiles, Aveline tried to make conversation. "How long have you worked with the Guard?"
Shouting down an alleyway caught their attention and Broden ignored her as he rushed ahead.
"Kids, I don't want to see your broken noses on my way back!" Broden barked at some adolescents in a play fist fight, who quickly ran out of the way, then he turned to Aveline, leaning away from the rukus.
"Years," he said.
For a moment, Aveline was stunned, having forgotten her question in the light of the fighting, then she remembered.
From the disengagement in eye contact, Aveline suspected this man was not one for small talk. "Do you have any advice for a job interview?"
"No."
Maker help Kirkwall, Aveline thought, I wonder if the other Guards will share two words of advice.
The quiet between them lasted until they reached the Viscount's Keep. The architecture was impressive and somewhat daunting, probably the Tevinter influence, Aveline thought. Pillars lined the path on the left and right like an aisle, with black drapes posted to them. The tallest building she'd witnessed so far lay beyond a very steep staircase.
"Don't make any jokes when Ewald's tired," Broden said eventually, "he doesn't like it…."
"I'll keep that in mind," Aveline said sternly, her eyes on the top of the skyscraper.
"…And neither do I," Broden finished.
Was he trying to imply she had been trying to be funny?
"Is it hard to believe that I know when I take a stab at humour?" Aveline said, "Unless I am so stupid that I succeed in making jokes without opening my mouth."
"No comment," Broden said.
Who says such a bloody thing these days?
"Thank you for trying to reassure me," Aveline said. It may not have been serious, though at least it wasn't a joke.
The Keep had a magnificent interior, not far removed from Cailan's main hall in Denerim Castle, with the high ceiling and gigantic walking space. Shortly after climbing the stairs, Broden requested on Ewald's orders that a letter be written to Ser Cauthrien to confirm Aveline's previous job history.
"You're making us go through a lot of effort if you're lying," Broden remarked, as they head back the other way across the top floor.
"If I don't pass the job interview tomorrow, it won't matter anyway," Aveline said.
"That's true," Broden admitted, thoughtfully. He stopped, "I need to go back to the Docks. I was told you can use one of the spare bed rolls."
"Where can I find them?"
The Guard pointed, "Go over there – there," he redirected Aveline's unsure gaze. "Turn right, then ask someone else."
"Uh, I appreciate it," Aveline replied. She sounded polite, yes, though deep down, she was very distrusting of the tenuous instruction.
They can't all be this bad, she thought, as she cautiously wandered toward the entrance on the other side of the corridor. She turned right, only to be presented with a corridor with many doors on either side.
"Rubbish," she muttered to herself. Feeling like she was breaking in, she continued her walk, listening carefully for signs of anyone who was more accommodating than she'd encountered within the Guard so far.
Finding someone didn't take long, she thought.
A guardswoman with a remarkably thin face, long nose and pointed ears was reading some papers stuck to a board.
"Oui. Malereusement, il y a des erreurs. Pour le troisieme fois cette semaine," she muttered to herself. She made a face, looking angry.
From the limited understanding of Orleasian from her father, Aveline managed to catch – Yes… mistakes… and week, despite that not being the entirety.
What was she reading?
"I don't mean to bother you," Aveline said, slowing, "Guard Captain Ewald said I could use one of the cots and stay here until my interview tomorrow morning. My name is Aveline Vallen, previously of Ostagar."
Even mentioning her full name made her sad. Wesley's loss was far more painful than the lack of a job or housing situation. She had not yet found any comfort to ease her pain.
The woman rotated, displaying near opal black eyes, "Yes? Similar to the Knight of Aveline who was left to starve in the woods by her father?"
The accent was not the strongest Aveline had heard, as the Orlesian was only accentuated on certain sounds.
"My father wasn't the one who left me to starve, but you have the idea," Aveline admitted, wryly.
The woman gave a brisk nod, "Good evening. I have questions, Aveline."
"Yes?"
"Did you find the Barracks on your own?" she queried.
"No. Guardsman Broden walked me here," Aveline said.
"But he didn't," the woman snapped. Despite the blunt tone, her posture and hands remained lax, "He is not here with you."
I've finally found someone who agrees with my opinion on his selfish attitude, Aveline thought, somewhat confidently, "I was under the impression he was busy."
"No," the woman barked. With a hateful glare, she moved close to Aveline, side stepping the message board, "There is a difference between the busy and lazy. Guardsman Broden was lazy – an unmotivated fool."
"I," Aveline tried very hard not to sound biased, "I'm sorry your team mate was taking short cuts."
"He is no mate of mine, Ser Aveline," the woman said in an undertone, "at least, not when he is a disgrace to the Barracks itself."
"Right," Aveline said, forcing neutrality. Before she could stop herself, "Are they all like that here?"
"Come with me," the Guardswoman instructed, pushing past, "We will find where you can rest tonight. My name is Nathara, by the way. Nathara Versaux. You may call me Nath as well, if you so wish. Allez."
They passed three doors before Nathara found the one she wanted. When she did – Aveline waited patiently and awkwardly behind – she cursed at the contents of drawers.
"All disappeared," she hissed, "Ewald is so forgetful, at times. The last of the bed rolls were given to the Chantry yesterday, if I am not mistaken."
"I doubt you are, Nathara," Aveline assured her, deciding not to correct the mistakes in the elf's English.
"Thank you, Ser Aveline," she said, closing and opening the draws again as though this would make bed rolls appear, "That's the mistake with this city. The people want Kirkwall protected. They want Guards swarming like ants, taking up every inch, though is that possible? No. It will never happen, not until we get more sleeping quarters!"
"Or bed rolls, apparently," Aveline said.
"Yes," Nathara agreed darkly, "There are few choices left, I am sorry to say."
"What would you suggest?"
"You are not sleeping on the floor," the elf growled, "I do not trust the boys with you."
"Are they that bad?"
"No, but they are boys and therefore idiotic by nature," Nathara said, "To have one give up his bed to lay with another-"
"I don't think you meant what you just said."
"Probably not," Nathara said, "sleep in the same bed. This aside, the woman's quarters is much smaller. You may share my bed, if it does not disgust you."
Aveline wasn't going to complain. She'd rather get squished on a bed with an elf than with some man – which likely, would remind her of how Wesley was missing, "Thank you. I'll take you up on your offer."
Not having anything else to do in the meantime, Aveline followed and watched while Nathara wrote a note for Ewald on his desk.
Ewald,
There are no more bed rolls.
You wrote Paige's name in twice on Thursday.
Wright is on the overnight patrol for Saturday and then the following morning. Are you torturing him on purpose? (if so, I approve.)
Regards
N
Aveline couldn't help but forget about her own problems when she spotted the message. Nathara and Ewald seemed to have a lot of rapport. She would be a perfect person to ask about the interview. Also, given Nathara was an elf – it showed that perhaps elves were treated differently in Kirkwall. Not desiring to be insensitive, she asked, "Have you been with the Guard long?"
"Nine years, Ser Aveline," Nathara replied, taking extra care to colour in the o's and a's on the note.
"Do you like Kirkwall?"
"At the moment, the refugee crisis is infuriating," Nathara explained, abandoning the quill, "though not because I despise them. I used to be a refugee myself. I know Ewald doesn't mean to reject so many, since he accepted me. It is taxing work."
Aveline wasn't sure what follow up question to ask first¸ "Is it not normal for refugees to be accepted in the Guard?"
Nathara snorted, and gestured to her ears, "No. When I arrived, many wanted to place me in the Blooming Rose or the alienage. I approached the Guard instead, despite having few fighting skills from my travels. Ewald directed me to a contact who trained Knights while I helped him with administration duties. I was hard working and was accepted full time as a Guard within two years."
"He must have really seen something in you," Aveline remarked.
"Yes, my resilience and my passion for fairness. The fight against discrimination is what allured Ewald to this work, so I think he sympathized with my story."
"How do you suggest I prepare for the job interview?" Aveline requested.
"The interview is not the difficult part," Nathara said, "Ewald likes to give chances for a person to prove themselves, and so, the interviews are not as intensive as they could be. The challenge will be keeping the job once you have been allowed in."
"Why is that?"
"Either the boredom or the stress," Nathara continued, "In both, a poor attitude can destroy a person. Sometimes, I help Ewald determine when a person should be given another chance, as in the past his generosity has caused problems," she left the note alone, "I suggest reading –there are books in the dining hall- and consider how you manage situations where your values are tested."
"Thank you, Nathara," Aveline said with a smile.
For the hours leading up to dinner, Aveline read the books in the dining hall. It was welcome reading after being without for so long. Feeling out of place, Aveline didn't start conversation with anyone when they grouped at the table, not until others talked to her. Reluctantly putting the book away, she focused on the cabbage and duck pottage she'd been provided. The bread soaked it up nicely.
"The morning is a bizarre time for an interview," a woman opposite said.
"He's trying to bring himself to an early grave. I keep telling you," a lively brunette next to her countered. Catching Aveline's eye, she asked. "So what brings you here?"
Aveline noticed this one had a large bruise on her neck. The two women and a man who'd hardly said anything, peered over.
"I found myself in need of a job and hoped to find a post that kept me within the city.'
"I heard you'll be sharing Nath's bed tonight," the brunette said, "Urg, she kicks in her sleep sometimes."
"I don't think a bed roll is much better, to be honest." Aveline shrugged this idea away, "Is it normal for the Guard Captain to let interviewees sleep on the ground?"
"Not in the least." the blonde said.
This is it Wesley, Aveline thought, I am spending my fourth night in Kirkwall with a woman who might give me bruises in her sleep.
Sleeping didn't turn out to be a one sided fight. In fact, there were only two bruises on Aveline's shins from the unconscious assault. Apparently, it was one of Nathara's better nights sleeping.
When she opened the door to the Guard Captain's office the next day, he was skimming over some papers, and took a moment to notice her. "Morning… um…"
"Aveline."
Ewald appeared forlorn from behind his desk, "Look, I knew it was in there somewhere."
The Guard Captain's office was what King Cailan's studying quarters looked like if it had been four times smaller. The desk smelled as though it had been oiled with what had been used on Ostagar barracks tables. Yet, Aveline smiled, the variety of books in the many bookshelves appeared to be pertaining slightly more interesting topics than the King had kept.
"It's not the first time someone's forgotten my name, probably closer to the hundredth, actually. I can help you feel better and get your name wrong if you like."
"Perhaps you can tell me," he said with a small smile, "With all these refugees arriving at Kirkwall's gates- what inspired you to approach Kirkwall for housing, rather than other cities?"
Assuming it wasn't a trick question, Aveline made up a quick story about the Tevinter roots being her interest.
The Captain seemed amused, "Really? I suppose expanding cultural knowledge makes it easier to grease important elbows."
Before she could respond, the Captain changed subjects, "The Guard wasn't your first choice of employment. I practically suggested it to you. What do you like about pursuing social justice?"
Some time later, Aveline watched as Ewald clearly wrapped up the interview, as he stacked a few parchments in a pile on his desk
"Lastly," Ewald said, looking up at her, "Imagine you're on patrol, and you encounter your friends not abiding by the law." Aveline kept straight faced, having wondered whether Ewald had considered the Hawke family's fate. "What do you do?"
Aveline took a deep breath. Before answering, she prayed the Maker her friends were not as stupid as to choose too many morally depraved jobs. At least, not while she was on patrol, "I would be incredibly disappointed in them, but I would do what is required and bring them in here. The law is more important than my personal stance on a dilemma like that."
By Ewald's silence, it wasn't immediately apparent whether he approved of her answer. But then Ewald pulled a parchment from the stack and turned it to face her
"This is the roster," he said, "for reference- what are your preferred shifts?"
Three weeks later, Aveline found herself growing comfortable with her patrolled routes. She'd spent almost a month working and training with the other guards on her detail.
"Excuse me, Guardswoman," a man's voice carried over from her right as she rounded a corner.
"Yes?" Aveline stopped walking and observed the speaker, doing her best to listen to his concerns as she took in his details. He was her age, possibly older, with pasty complexion. The fabric of his garb was too familiar to be of Free Marcher origin.
"I am curious. Have the Guard heard the rumours about the illegal entrants to Kirkwall?"
"They're more than just rumours," Aveline said, darkly, "There's a handful of refugees whom have already been thrown back out. Why do you ask?"
"I think I know a person who may be one," he replied.
"Excellent. If you would lead me to them, I can have a talk with them to confirm your concerns," Aveline said. She looked around, and gave a purposeful look in her colleague's direction, "Evander, come here."
While they crossed the Hightown market square, Guardsman Evander –a man who spent all his coin on his appearance to conceal the fact he didn't have personality to offer- took a moment to grasp the situation, "What would your name be, sir?"
"Nathaniel Howe," he said, "of Amaranthine."
"I wondered if you were Ferelden," Aveline remarked, somewhat comforted by the thought of home.
"Amaranthine is in Ferelden?" Evander blurted out.
"The Northern part," Nathaniel replied.
"What led you to believe this person is a refugee without permitted entry?" Evander continued.
"I met a woman in my neighbourhood who has changed the story about her home town now four times,"
Evander smirked, "Thoughtless as a brush."
"She could be ill, or hiding something else," Aveline admitted.
The woman Nathaniel had described, it turned out, did not appear to be ill or dysfunctional. She was wiping crumbs from the counter of a quaint shop selling biscuits and cakes. The shutters didn't allow much light in, although the tabletops were covered with wicker baskets lined with cotton.
"That butter smell," Evander remarked, stepping up to the counter and running his fingers in the air a few inches over the treats, as though this would help him absorb the taste, "Want one, Aveline?"
"No, thank you," Aveline said. It would be a number of months at least, until she felt like buying anyone presents, or splurging on a sweet of any description. The stranger had a number of earrings in her ears and many freckles.
"Be there in a moment," the woman called out.
By her voice, she couldn't be much older than seventeen, Aveline thought.
"If you are feeling so generous, Guardsman, I will have one," Nathaniel said with a grin.
Evander frowned, and Aveline knew this was testing his position as the alpha male, "I will buy three, just in case Aveline changes her mind."
"Hello!" the girl said, stepping up to them and folding a cloth over her arm, "and Guardsmen, good afternoon. Boss is on his break right now. We had an entire wedding order over lunch – took ages! Do you want anything?"
"Three of the…" Evander began.
"The ones with almonds is the best choice," Nathaniel interjected.
"With butter, please lovely lady," Evander purred.
"It's Tasmin," she replied, "and we have three varieties of butter biscuits."
"Such a difficult choice – this marks the biggest incident of the day, no question," Evander muttered.
"The second," Nathaniel answered Tasmin.
Aveline sighed, "I'll ask Ewald to take the pay out of your wage if it gets you two to shut up."
The treats were wrapped in a –admittedly, charming- silk napkin, and Nathaniel departed, Aveline felt just a little sad that she hadn't forced a better choice of buiscuit on her work colleague. Evander wasn't that bad of a conversationalist, as far as the Guards went, but he left a lot to be desired.
"Do you mind if we ask you some questions, Tasmin?" Aveline said. Deep down, she hoped this woman wasn't an illegal refugee so the worst didn't have to happen.
"Not at all." Tasmin tied the napkin with some string. "What's the problem?"
"Do you know about anyone who may be in Kirkwall illegally?" Aveline inquired, "It's our job to find such people and any help you could give us would be appreciated."
"How long have you worked here?" Evander interjected.
"Um…" the woman appeared to lose her voice for a moment, "Which one should I answer first? It…its 10 silver for that."
Evander tried to find ten silver out from his coin purse, "We are interested in the answers to both."
"I've been here for over a year," Tasmin said, "and…"
"Can your boss confirm that?" Evander said.
"Stop it," Aveline hissed in his ear, not approving of the intimidating approach, "Like I said, any information you can spare…."
Tasmin looked upset, "I know… okay- I know some – but what good is it to say? They are doing nothing wrong. They should be allowed to live here. You have all these criminals – even they get to live here –just in prison! It's better than being overwrought by demons."
"It's the law," Evander said, placing the coin down, "No need for tears before bedtime. Out of the country is better than the Gallows, isn't it?"
"It's a stupid law when you consider it from that perspective," Aveline agreed with Tasmin, "but it is still the law."
She always felt so uncomfortable with managing the refugees, for she could easily imagine how frustrating that situation was. It made her sometimes wonder if others had noticed her bias. What was important was that it didn't get in the way of doing what was right.
Tasmin scraped the coin across the countertop toward her, bitterly, as though she was losing coin after a poorly played game, "I don't want to tell you who they are, but I can tell you who helped sneak them into the city."
"If you could assist, we would be grateful," Aveline said.
The door opened with a tinkle of the bell, and three middle aged men entered.
"Can we finish this when my boss comes back from his lunch break?" Tasmin asked, "I swear I'll tell you then."
While they waited, Evander insisted on asking the boss to confirm how long Tasmin had been working there, in order to investigate her. Aveline suggested that they at least waited until they got information on the person smuggling the refugees inside. Usually, Aveline and Evander didn't disagree on the choices made, so the argument was vicious, though they eventually came to a compromise.
They spoke to Tasmin just outside the shop. In this light it was apparent how skinny she was.
"A man about his late twenties, I think?" she used hands to demonstrate, "This height. He had a big beard like this, blue eyes, and was very muscled. He's Fereldan, I think, he definitely sounded like it. Speaks in a voice like this," Tasmin imitated a man, "my friends pointed him out to me."
Evander took the wrong moment to loudly bite off a chunk of his biscuit, because it emphasized the temporary halt of Aveline's breath. That description sounded a great deal like Garrett Hawke. "Thank you, Tasmin."
The investigation had to end here, she thought.
With trepidation, Aveline decided she would visit the Hawke residence in the evening and get to the bottom of this. But first, she waited outside the shop while Evander spoke to Tasmin's boss.
Maker, let the girl be allowed to stay…
Aveline didn't want to be the one to arrest the girl, even if that was what her job required to do. What would she do if Hawke had been the catalyst? Angrily, she simply wished that he wasn't. Despite what she had told Guard Captain Ewald all those weeks ago, the disappointment of bringing Hawke to jail for letting kind refugees into the city was not her idea of a pleasant dinner conversation.
Later that evening, when she arrived at the Gamlen house, Garrett had been preparing for bed, she finally gathered the courage to talk to him.
"Hawke," Aveline started, finally out of that heavy armour, "I had something come up at work today that I'm not happy about."
"Did you finally get a tan, Aveline?" Garrett suggested with a grin, leaning back into the sofa and perching his feet on the small table.
"You know that will never happen," she said, dismissing the comment quickly, "Did you meet a girl named Tasmin in the past few weeks?"
"Tasmin…" Garrett repeated, looking absent minded, "She… is she the one with like ten earrings? A freckle on one eyelid?"
"She had four in today," Aveline acknowledged, "and yes. My colleague arrested her today. Ewald should have figured out what to do with her by now."
Aveline paused to gather her thoughts, knowing she was rambling.
"Are you saying you are the one who smuggled her into the city?"
"Her and a few others," Garrett said, "It wasn't just me. I only did a few. Meeran had nothing else for me to do at the time. And I feel like it was a decent job, compared to others."
"It won't be like that for long, Hawke," Aveline disagreed sternly, "illegal activity disguised as something good doesn't mean it is excusable."
Garrett laughed, "You won't arrest me, Aveline. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here by yourself."
Aveline groused, knowing he was right, but she couldn't let him know that, "I have it in the back of my mind."
"I know you won't."
Aveline grumbled and took a deep breath, "I haven't yet. But…"
"You won't."
His voice was taunting now.
Aveline tried to hide her discomfort by avoiding Garrett's gaze.
No. This wasn't right. Not arresting him was turning her into a criminal. She'd already broken the rules. Yet, she couldn't ignore the facts. Hawke was only doing this temporarily, he was one of her only friends in this city, and… she did agree with what Tasmin said about the law. Maybe there was a middle ground she could take.
"I will arrest you if I track you down as part of my duty, or catch you doing anything you shouldn't be again," Aveline attested firmly.
"Especially this," she said, gathering her courage to continue. "So do a lot more thinking about what you're doing when you're being stupid. And-"she hated to say it, "Maybe we should keep our distance while your debt is getting repaid."
Garrett frowned. He looked into her eyes for a long while before speaking, "You're one of the only friends I have here. I'm not allowed to keep friends in the Red Iron as it is. There's so much I'm already not permitted to do. Just having my family for company doesn't brighten my day."
His words mirrored her thoughts.
"I know," Aveline said, sounding upset. "I'm sorry, but this just won't work otherwise. We have to do it for our own good. For your own good. After the debt is out of the way we can…we can…." She paused, barely believing what she was about to say. "Think about how often I can visit."
"If you hadn't gotten a job in the guard, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Garrett remarked, bitterly.
"What, should I have taken a job as a Templar, and be forced to take you into the Circle instead?" Aveline tested, "I don't want anything that will remind me of Ferelden. I want to find my place here, even if it means I can't talk to you, or your family, for a little while."
Not being reminded of Wesley was the more important detail, but it didn't have to be said. Everyone in the Hawke household knew how she mourned while no one in the Guard did. She hadn't convinced herself to talk about it yet. There never seemed a right moment in a conversation to mention that, 'Oh, my spouse recently died.'
"A year is more than a little while," Garrett said, "but I suppose that's what getting old does to you, as mother would say."
"I'm not that old,"Aveline said with a frown.
"Insult my appearance," Garrett advised her, calming himself, "Then we're even."
"I can do that, Hawke," Aveline denoted smoothly, "If you want to be more invisible in this city, I suggest you do something about your beard."
Hawke smirked. "It is a good beard, isn't it?"
"Yes- which shouldn't be taken as a compliment. It makes you stick out, as Free Marchers don't usually sport them." then Aveline realized she hadn't insulted him yet, "You have the foulest toenails I have ever seen. I swear they have been fostering an infection your entire life and one day it will kill you without your notice."
"I will pretend you'll die before me for how old you are, Aveline," Garrett said with a grin. Then at Aveline rolling her eyes, "Alright. We're done. We're even."
"Good riddance for that," Aveline acknowledged. She sighed, "It won't be the same, Hawke."
"We will all miss each other," Garrett said, "but I'll let you know when my year of reckless stupidity is over."
"You assume I'll forget," Aveline pointed out, "Maybe I'll send you some biscuits when I feel generous."
"Biscuits?" Hawke repeated, bewildered.
"Yes," Aveline said, "The butter ones are very nice, you know."
When Aveline made her way to the Barracks later that night, every step transported her further away from reality, from the comforts of life. The Hawke family had been an emotional crutch for her with Wesley gone. Now she had… work colleagues –ones she didn't know very well-, and that was all. She wiped the tears from her eyes as they formed. She could not allow anyone to see her cry, none of the terrible guards anyway.
Guardsman Dirt noticed her first, guarding the entrance to the Barracks, but he lacked the emotional capacity to notice she was upset.
"Hello Aveline," he said, nearly shouting.
She ignored him.
Once she entered the corridor, Paige, another of the guards, waved, "Aveline! Oh…" her voice softened as Aveline got closer, "you look upset. So upset, no, no. I was earlier. Sad, not upset. I mean… do you want to talk about it?"
This guard was a nice girl, despite her social awkwardness, "I'm alright, Paige. I just…" she tried to think of how to explain it, "I think I'm just a little lonely."
Loneliness rarely bothered her, the feeling was far from being an unusual experience; but she'd never experienced it like this. Inescapable isolation, rather than loneliness felt more accurate of a description.
"Did your patrol make you feel under the weather?" Paige asked, "Sometimes the heat takes it out of me."
Feeling guilty for going against the law, even if it was more bending the law, she replied, "I suppose a little."
Refusing to expand on this, she continued to walk. Then she stopped, and considered knocking on Ewald's office door.
She was curious to know what happened to Tasmin, and perhaps the Guard Captain would answer her concerns.
"Ser Aveline."
No one else addresses me that way, turning to face the elf. It was Nathara.
"I heard you spoke to a refugee today," she said, "That is unfortunate."
Nathara was an impatient a person at times, 'unfortunate' was her means of giving her condolences.
"Thank you," Aveline said, trying to look away in case the tears were visible. Perhaps the elf already understood.
"You did well," Nathara said, "Ewald is pleased that you were there to offset Evander's temperament. Tasmin admitted you were the only reason she agreed to come to the Barracks quietly."
This wasn't what Aveline expected to hear, "I don't feel like the compliment is deserved. I didn't do anything."
Really, even without having told Hawke to stop being so obvious, she still hadn't done anything. She hadn't arrested Hawke, when that would have really impressed the Guard Captain. Though she felt even more despair at the thought. Perhaps social justice wasn't what she was doing this job for. What else was it for, if not to follow the law? Unintentional it may have been, she had lied to the Guard Captain in her interview. She didn't deserve this job.
"Yes, you did," Nathara said, "because the girl told us about who was involved in the smuggling, the Guard Captain promised to write to others in the Free Marches to ensure she has safe access to another city before he lets her out of Kirkwall. She then told us who else had been allowed inside illegally."
Wait, Aveline thought, the other guards words halting her thoughts. Nathara had intimated that Tasmin's fate wasn't nearly as bad as she'd expected.
"I'm relieved," Aveline said, "but I don't understand how Captain Ewald has the time."
"He doesn't," Nathara replied, "Why do you think he is such a forgetful fool? But he is dedicated to what he does- this job introduces one to wrong, and the right people. That is what makes him a good Captain."
"Tell him thank you," Aveline told her, "Nath…" she paused, feeling ashamed for admitting it, "It is really difficult working with the refugees, and I feel terrible for even saying that. I mean, I'm grateful that Ewald doesn't roster me for those shifts at the Docks unless there's no other choice, but…."
"Je comprends," Nathara said, "When I departed my home city, I lost contact with the only person I cared about. I hate knowing that people who have had to do that, become further rejected when they try to make something new for themselves. So who did you lose?'
She wasn't asking what Aveline had left behind, but who. As if that was the only definite answer, the only inescapable fact of fleeing a city. Finally, with the direct question, she didn't feel so frightened to admit the truth, "M-my husband."
The words opened a wound, as if she had turned the blade on herself, not Wesley.
"Horrid," Nathara admitted, "absolutely horrid. The Maker may only be a bastard to those who are still alive, but I assure you the Maker is taking good care of him. Until we perish, we are here to fight back against the Maker's Grand Game."
Aveline let her gaze drop to the ground, knowing that if she spoke, her voice would be croaky and she'd probably cry. Nathara patted Aveline's on the shoulder.
"This is… surprising," said a male Guard, who passed them in the corridor, "Is everything alright?"
"No," Nathara answered bluntly, "We don't need your help, Donnic. It is women's business. Terrifying."
"I'll take your word for it."
Aveline hadn't brought the Guard's name to memory, though she glanced into his eyes as he turned away, and couldn't help feeling grateful that he had asked.
Aveline wasn't sure what precisely eroded her enthusiasm for the City Guard as the weeks passed, though she had some idea.
It was partially the refugees she felt propelled to sometimes reject and the fact she missed Wesley, wanting to never let him go.
She'd taken up the habit of sending anonymous cookies to Gamlen's place, yet it was a reminder of the memory that she was no longer the perfect employee.
Sometimes she considered what Leandra cooked in the evening, how much her sons helped her, or how many piles of coin Gamlen had gambled away, or how often Carver went about trying to impress his mother. She missed the Hawke Family, yes.
Months later, the staffing of the Barracks changed. She knew Guard Captain Ewald's departure was one major influence on her mood even before he walked out the doors to the Viscount Keep. On his final morning she approached his office to say goodbye. It was strange to see Ewald without his armour on, but a blue shirt and trousers instead.
"Ser," Aveline paused. She had to say something. It was now, or never. "I thought I should let you know. I found one of my friends not abiding by the law early in my time here. I made sure he stopped the activity but didn't bring him in here. I went against what I promised. I wanted to apologize for not telling you at the time, and being so cowardly I am only telling you now."
Ewald sighed, and double checked the papers on the desk, before turning his eyes up to her, "Aveline, I really don't care."
Nonchalance was not the reaction she had expected, he'd given her the same apathetic look he had when she met him. "What?"
"The laws aren't perfect. If I could, I'd change a good half a dozen of them," Ewald said, "They are supposed to protect Kirkwall's best interests, and some of them don't. I don't choose people to work here solely because of their ability to be law abiding, but under what circumstances they would break a law, and how they would justify it."
Again, her shock endured. "I don't know what to say."
"I trust your judgement, Aveline. That's all I'm saying," Ewald said, like her mistake didn't bother him at all, "Remember to hold onto that."
"I… yes, Captain," Aveline said, mostly out of habit, "Where are you going to work next?"
Ewald gave a grim smile, "I have barely a hundred coppers to my name and don't have the slightest idea. I'm going to spend time at a friend's place. I just needed to get out of here."
"I didn't think it was that bad," Aveline said.
"It isn't," Ewald said, with a foreboding look, "The people I have to answer to are."
He leaned over to double check the belongings in his satchel without dismissing her.
"But you're the Guard Captain," Aveline protested, "Do they not understand what that position means? Or even what the Guard means? Whoever else is in the chain of command; they should be answering to you."
Ewald grinned, "I'm glad someone thinks so." he approached the door. "Goodbye Aveline. I hope to see you around some day."
She stood in the empty office for a long time after the door clicked shut, pondering on why she hadn't been fired.
Her disenchantment with the guard quickly turned to burnout from that point on, even once the refugee problem was gone. Whenever she considered leaving, she had no idea what would be a better alternative.
Was it because Ewald's replacement never shared the same warmth and decency as Ewald did, how Nathara had almost stormed out on a meeting (until she realized how impulsive and stupid that would be), the fact that Nathara did actually leave two weeks after the fact… or that her shifts had changed in a direction that was not interesting?
Whatever it was, she was grateful for Hawke's unnecessary letter reminding that the year of servitude was over. Aveline had been counting the months…. and by the time Hawke's letter had arrived, she had been down to counting the days.
Authors Notes: This was written for I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins on AO3 as part of the DA Fanfic Writer's Group Secret Santa challenge. Happy early Christmas! I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry I couldn't write a whole Nathaniel story. I never played Awakening so I'm not confident with any of the characters from that. This is my first time writing Aveline though. A number of the OCs in here cross over with my main Samson story.
Credits: My beta, Europolarist on AO3.
Schattenriss and Alexasnow for ideas for the main conflict in this story. And Schattenriss for the title idea!
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