What once was ours…
Chapter 1. Aren't you dead?
AN: This was a response to a Valentine's Day prompt. It ended up going a completely different direction than it was meant to. The plot bunnies made me do it! Huge thank you to my beta Shakespira!
The original prompt was from Epiphany sola Gatia:
"Our Warden or Hawke or (insert preferred character here) is beckoned by the bony finger of an old Rivanni woman who is passing by as a peddler. She offers a vial of a curious pink liquid to our hero, who examines it quizzically.
"A key to your heart's deepest desire," the woman promised with a wheezy chuckle.
Our hero examines it a moment longer, but feels almost compelled to cross the woman's palm with a single gold sovereign.
Before walking away the hero pockets the vial in his/her belt pouch, certain that it is no better than some colored water and does not seem to notice the warmth radiating tantalizingly from the vial..."
Valentina (Val) Hawke had been Viscountess of Kirkwall for two, very long, years. Her days were a full frenzy of activity and the frenetic pace meant that her nights were spent eating supper and going to bed. Occasionally, she would stop by the Hanged Man to visit Varric, Merrill, Aveline and Donnic. Isabella and Fenris had taken to the seas and had been gone for months; Sebastian went on to successfully reclaim Starkhaven. She tried never to think about Anders.
Bodahn and Orana had gone to Orlais, leaving Val to feel quite overwhelmed by such a large empty house, especially one that held so many painful memories. There were living quarters at the Keep for the Viscount, but she didn't want to simply abandon her family home. When Aveline announced she was pregnant, Val knew what she needed to do.
She asked Donnic and Aveline over for supper. She made lamb stew, a Fereldan favorite, as well as biscuits and fresh fruit. Sitting by the fire in the living room, her guests contentedly full. Val looked at them, her expression one of uncertainty. "Aveline, Donnic, I have…a favor to ask you."
Donnic laughed. "First you stuff us full of good food. Good tactic."
Val chuckled. "Hey, I don't make Fereldan Lamb Stew every day."
"What's the favor, Hawke?" Trust Aveline to get us back on track.
"I can't…live in this house anymore, but I can't abandon it either. Would you be willing to live here?"
"You want us to be care takers of your home until you are no longer Viscountess?" Clearly, Donnic was not warm to the idea.
"No, I was thinking of a more permanent arrangement."
"We cannot afford a house like this, Hawke."
"Donnic, who's to say? You haven't heard my price."
"Aveline and I don't except charity."
"Charity? No! You misunderstand me. You are the ones who would be helping me. I'm so overwhelmed by the memories that I just can't live here. It's killing me, but I can't let this place go to strangers. You have a child on the way, probably the first of several." Val grinned. "This house deserves a family. It needs to feel little feet walking across its floors; its walls need to echo with the sound of laughter. There is no one else I would have live here. Trust me, I'm not offering this out of charity." Hawke stood up. "I'll bring out dessert."
She could hear the couple murmur and whisper. Hawke waited until it stopped before she brought out the dessert. Just as she put down the tray, Donnic cleared his throat. Hawke took the hint and sat down waiting patiently for Donnic to speak.
"We thought we would need time to talk it over, but we really didn't need to."
Shit, they're going to turn me down.
"If we can reach a reasonable price, we'll buy the estate."
Hawke could only squeak out a thank you before she put her head in her hands and cried tears of relief. Aveline put her arms around Hawke. Finally her tears stopped and she looked at Donnic and Aveline. "Make me an offer."
~oOOo~
Aveline and Donnic were settled into the estate just before Aveline gave birth. A baby girl they named Bethany. When Val came to visit Aveline and meet baby Bethany, she could feel the joy and happiness that radiated throughout the house. They were using Leandra's room as the nursery and Donnic and Aveline were using Val's room as the master bedroom, which made sense; it was the largest room. The Hendyr family had given the house what it had always needed, and she told as much to Donnic and Aveline before she left.
Val had settled into the Viscount's quarters, but her life was no less hectic. Living in the Keep simply meant she went to bed even later. It was one crisis after another and there was really no one who she could talk to, no one who would listen and understand. Seneschal Bran was not the warmest man she had ever met, and Val was quite certain he would never like her, but he didn't let that interfere with his ability to perform his job, until one afternoon.
After having spent the entire morning mediating a dispute between two nobles for a tract of land that was barely big enough for a small cottage, Hawke had had enough. She asked Bran to cancel her afternoon appointments. Bran was about to object, but her expression brooked no argument.
She wanted to be far away from Hightown, so she went to the venders in Lowtown. She was looking at their wares, then began to wander over to the docks where her face was less known. On her way out of the market, she saw the bony finger of an old Rivani woman beckoning her. She offered Hawke a vial filled with curious pink liquid. Hawke felt compelled to at least look at what the woman was selling. She examined it, quizzically, and looked at the old woman.
"A key to your heart's deepest desire," the woman promised, with a wheezy chuckle.
Hawke looked at it a moment longer, and once again felt compelled to cross the woman's palm with a single gold sovereign.
Before walking away Hawke pocketed the vial, certain that it was no better than some colored water; she didn't seem to notice the warmth radiating tantalizingly from the vial.
She got back to the Keep just before nightfall. Bran was quick to point to a stack of urgent correspondence that needed to be read and responded to by the following morning.
"Bran, you're trying to punish me for making you cancel my afternoon appointments?"
Bran said nothing, but his eyes betrayed him.
"Fine, I'll have them to you by tomorrow morning."
"Thank you. Good evening, Viscountess."
Hawke merely muttered at him as she walked into her office.
She was up well into the night, reading and answering the stack of letters. About halfway through, she realized that Bran had been saving some of them for several weeks, which was why they were now 'urgent.' He stored them up on purpose to ambush me. Little shit, now he's crossed the line.
Taking out a new piece of parchment, Hawke wrote one last letter.
15 Haring 9:39 Dragon
Bran Caven, Seneschal
Viscount's Keep
Kirkwall
Dear Seneschal Caven:
Below, you will find the completed correspondence, as "requested." After reviewing everything, I have some specific tasks for you to complete and put on my desk no later than the morning of the 17 Haring.
1. Cancel all of my appointments for today (16th) and reschedule them. Present me with a draft schedule in the afternoon for my review and approval before finalizing my calendar.
2. Review all of the correspondence from the last year of Viscount Dumar's tenure, and provide me with a summary of each item and organize the correspondence by category.
3. Provide me with a full description of your job.
Again, I expect these tasks to be completed by the morning of 17 Haring, 9:39 Dragon.
Sincerely,
Valentina Hawke
Viscountess of Kirkwall
Hawke put all the correspondence on Bran's desk, and placed the letter on top. Smiling she went to her quarters. As she disrobed, the vial of pink liquid fell out of her pocket and rolled on the floor. Amazed that it hadn't broken, she picked it up.
"I completely forgot about this." She swirled the pinkish liquid around then uncorked the vial. The scent of Gwaren strawberries wafted up and Val's thoughts were suddenly transported back to Lothering. It had been a quiet afternoon and she'd had a rare moment to herself, so she'd taken some of the money she had been saving and purchased fresh strawberries. Not just any strawberries, but the ones that grew only in Gwaren. Big, luscious, red, velvet-looking strawberries with juice that was the perfect mixture of sweet and tart, and plentiful enough that some would always run down your chin.
Coming back to the present, Hawke looked at the vial; the liquid was now the same color as the strawberry's juice. Her mouth watering from the memory, she drank the contents of the vial, pleased that it tasted just like she remembered. She tried to drink all of it, but there was about of finger's width worth of liquid that would not come out and resisted all Val 's efforts to remove it.
Shrugging her shoulders, she corked the vial, placed it on her nightstand and looked at it. My heart's deepest desire is Gwaren strawberries? I don't think so. I just want peace and quiet or at least have someone to talk to, who understands. Someone I don't have to lead. Maker, what would it be like to have someone else take the reins?
"If wishes were fishes..." Yawning, Val got into bed, pulled the covers over her and quickly fell asleep.
She woke up feeling very refreshed. When she realized that the bed felt far more comfortable than her own, she opened her eyes and quickly sat up. This isn't my room! Where am I?
Taking in her surroundings, she saw the morning light stream into the bedroom window. Now fully awake, she quietly got out of bed. She was wearing the same nightgown she'd worn when she'd gone to bed. Looking around, she found her travel chest at the foot of the bed; the shoes she'd worn yesterday were sitting by a large comfortable looking chair. Her armor was on the armor stand, her sword and shield on the weapon rack. The bed, larger than hers, was a blonde wood, four-poster. The walls were light colored stone, adorned with several tapestries depicting flowers, or pastoral scenes. The curtains in the window were white and blowing in the breeze. The whole room felt light and airy. Oddly, I'm not afraid. Clearly this is a dream, a very real looking dream, but a dream
Opening her trunk she found her favorite tunic and trousers. Quickly dressing and slipping on her shoes, she took her dagger, in case it wasn't a dream, and crept towards the door. Finding it unlocked, she slowly opened it; using the door as a shield, she peaked out. Her room was at the end of one hall and in the middle of another. Like being at the top of a T. The halls were the same light stone as the bedroom, the hall carpets were a beautiful royal blue; portraits hung on the walls. She didn't see guards anywhere. In fact, she didn't see anyone.
Closing and locking the door, she went to the window. Carefully looking out, she saw that this room was on the second floor of a two-story estate. It appeared that the estate was set between beautiful green fields and the coast of a crystal blue lake. The air smelled like fresh grass.
Hmm…it smells wonderful, far better than Kirkwall, still it isn't Ferelden— I miss the smell of wet dog.
Sitting back on the bed, she took stock of her situation. Perhaps this is just an elaborate dream brought on by whatever was in that vial. Val looked at the bedside table where she saw the partially empty vial. Well, if this is a dream, at least I'm in a nice quite place where no one is pestering me.
"I might as well enjoy it." She went to the bath area, which held a huge bathtub with instant hot water that flowed from the spigot on the wall. After her bath, she bushed out her long black hair. She decided to wear it loose. She put on her tunic and trousers and looked in the mirror.
Maker! What happened? The circles under my eyes are gone!
She looked closer and noticed that the her blue eyes were no longer blood shot, the frown lines were gone, as well as the squint lines by her eyes. I look…I look ten years younger. I'm beginning to like this dream more and more.
Leaving her room, she walked straight down the long hall. Along the way, she saw a servant, not an elf, coming up from the lower floor.
"Good morning, Viscountess. Did you sleep well?"
It's a dream, just go with it. "Yes, I slept very well. The room is very comfortable."
"Breakfast is being served on the terrace. Please follow me."
"Thank you…what is your name?"
"Lyna, Messere"
"Thank you, Lyna."
While Val followed Lyna, she looked around; she felt that the décor was starting to get monotonous. Hmm, you would think I'd have a better sense of style in my own dream.
Then they entered the Great Room.
It was awash in beautiful colors. The way it was furnished looked very inviting... and very Ferelden. It was all wood with mabaris carved into it. The cushions were thick and looked so comfortable, you could get lost in them. The tapestries on the wall were vibrant. On closer look, all the tapestries were scenes and people from Ferelden.
One of them was of Lothering.
It took her breath away as it was a view she remembered well. If you stood on the hill of the Bann's estate, you could see the imperial highway, the lake, and the fields. It's almost like someone painted a picture while looking through my eyes.
Well, that would make sense, as it's my dream.
Lyna waited a little while as Val looked around. "Messere?"
"Oh, my apologies, Lyna. I was just lost in the tapestries. Do you know who made them?"
"Two of the women in the village sewed them, but they are from paintings of Ferelden. Breakfast, Messere?"
Val nodded and followed Lyna to the terrace. Val's idea of a terrace was like the one she had at the Keep and at her estate: modest, large enough for a small table and two chairs. She was not expecting this terrace to be the size of a small room. It overlooked the lake and the view was spectacular. She was so enraptured she almost failed to notice the man in the corner of the terrace, looking at the lake, leaning casually against the wall. All Val could tell was that he was tall, broad shouldered, and had shoulder-length blonde hair. He was wearing a dark leather jerkin and pants, and the man was very fit.
This dream is getting better and better.
He still had his back to her, but moved from the wall. "Welcome, Viscountess Hawke." His voice was not neither deep, nor high, but it was soothing to hear and he spoke with the Fereldan accent.
Considering the tapestries, that's no surprise.
"Thank you, Messere. Please, call me Val."
As the man turned around, she saw his piercing blue eyes and broad grin. "Please, call me Maric."