Dreams of the Insomniac
Notes: Playing with words and form. Working on my dialogue. Constructive criticism welcome. I think it goes without saying that Dragon Age and its characters do not belong to me but to Bioware.
Edits: I'm going through and cleaning up the chronology, just a little bit, so that the story is slightly less fractured. I'm also going to change the Deep Roads section. That section was rushed and it shows. Thanks to everyone who has sent me comments and reviews, and is following the story. I appreciate it!
Edit 7-20: Rating has been changed to an M. The overtly sexual stuff will be contained in its own chapter(s). I'm pretty new at that kind of writing, so I wanted to make it easy to skip over if it's not very good. :)
Summary: Marian Hawke has never been a good sleeper. But insomnia allows her to watch the shadows and learn about others. What can you learn in the dark that you cannot see in the light? Here is what happens in the holes and shadows. . . . Rated M for some adult language and sexual situations. F!Hawke/Isabela for now, probably other pairings later.
Lothering
I. Dreams of the past
Because I have never been a good sleeper, I hate sleeping alone. Wait. Perhaps I am not a good sleeper because I have rarely slept alone? Not that I've never had any choice about either.
When I was a child. . . well, many things happened as a child, besides growing older, more attractive, and charming. We moved a lot, because of Father and Bethany. We had to stay one step ahead of noisy neighbors and threatening Templars. We kept our household small, for easy transport. We kept our houses small, to keep inconspicuous. The upshot was that I always shared a room with Bethany, and sometimes both twins. If I was unlucky, our house would have just one room for sleeping (or just one room) and the whole family would share. One year, we had to share with the animals too.
Of course, I suppose it was really Father and Bethany who were unlucky. I didn't have to hide who I was or forever keep one eye trained over my shoulder.
There was always someone around, another restless dreamer, or a sigh, a groan, a soft bark or loud purr. When I was very young, I slept through it. Something about childhood days is quite exhausting. All the running around (for fun! not for fear) and fresh air is tiring. Clapping games are just exhausting. Braiding and unbraiding and rebraiding hair takes the mental energy.
One summer, I took sick, and that is when everything changed. (Or so I thought. I've been having nothing but "and then everything changed" moments ever since.) Something was wrong with my stomach, which led to terrible pain. It was awful for Mother, I'm sure. Suddenly she had a normal person to worry about, not just a couple of on-the-run mages. Father was a kind man, a helpful man, but he hadn't known much about healing. While he took the time to teach Bethany, he certainly kept his magic under wraps. He had to venture out to see if he could heal me, since Mother's herbal remedies (Maker bless her!) did little to help.
Due to the pain, I was often awake at night and slept during the day. If I could sleep, the pain caused terrible nightmares. As the others slept, I learned to watch. I traced the moon and stars through the windows. Learned the rise and fall of breathing, the different cycles of dreaming and sleep. I saw the mice, when they felt it was safe enough to creep out. I learned to read the shadows. All helpful skills for my later life, dealing as I do with daggers.
After much risk (I mean, study), Father felt ready. He was secretly happy whenever an animal was sick or injured, for he would practice on it, first. (Father was the kindest man in the world, so please don't think he ever did anything untoward to the animals!) But after he'd felt enough knitted bones and enough infections had been fenced in and enough seamless skin, he was ready for me.
I'm not a mage, so I cannot speak to the kinds of spells my father used. I know he dealt with no demons. But whether he drew from the Fade or from his own strength, I cannot say. He laid his hands on me, and for a brief moment, all of the pain gathered at one point, and it felt as if I was experiencing an explosion of stars in my gut. I say a brief moment, but it might have been many minutes, an hour. Just bright stars. And then it was over. I was returned to Mother's care and her herbals, and I was repaired.
My body was repaired, but my mind was gone, given over to the night. Even though no pain kept me awake, still I would lurk in the corners long after everyone else was asleep. I knew the risks Father had taken, and I now saw it was my duty to protect him, to keep watch while he slumbered.
Even as I have honed this skill, it has not helped me much. Ostagar. Ostagar was a night battle, and I was at my prime. But the enemy seemed to draw its strength from the darkness, or some black evil. And instead of using my skill to fight, I had to flee, and to keep fleeing. . . .