Author's note: I recently finished reading The Journal of Marian Hawke ( s/6854148/1/The-Journal-of-Marian-Hawke) by user lotusflwr. It has been left unfinished since 2011 and I was so wrapped up in it, it was a profound disappointment to not know how it ends. I decided to pick it up myself and see where I can take it - more for me than for anyone, but I hope others out there find it enjoyable as well. The original author has a style already similar to my own, so I made my best effort to try to keep the flow and make it feel like the same story.
This picks up right where the original story left off (Chapter 38). My plan is to finish this story, taking it to the end of the first act of the game, and then follow up with sequels for acts two and three.
Feedback is very much welcome! Thanks so much for your work, lotusflwr, and if you ever return to finish the original, it can't be soon enough!
Update 3/20/15: Fixed a few formatting and grammatical errors; nothing of substance has changed.
Hawke wandered slowly through the open cavern in the Deep Roads, the glow of lyrium veins far in the distance. Her steps felt heavy. Forced. The camp was empty, the tents were gone, and where there were once fires now lay piles of cold ashes. The blackness was crushing down on her as she tried to quicken her pace, reaching toward the orange glow of a side passage that seemed years away.
A sudden noise behind her made her skin crawl. Slowly turning she saw dozens – no, hundreds – of yellow glowing eyes in the darkness behind her. A slow, steady hissing noise began to rise, along with the loud skittering sounds of far too many feet, as the eyes grew larger, nearer. Hawke tried to cry out but couldn't catch her voice. Her throat was parched and her tongue was like sandpaper. The most she could manage was a soft gasp as she turned to run, her feet heavier than ever. Her long, slow strides barely carrying her ahead of the unknown creatures behind her. Suddenly a soft bluish-white glow appeared ahead of her; the silhouette of a man. Fenris. Her heart raced. Thank the Maker.
Again she tried to cry out, to call his name. "Fenris…" she whispered hoarsely. She knew he could not hear her. The silhouette turned and began running away from her – from the creatures behind her. No! He can't see me. He doesn't know I'm here. Her heart raced even quicker as the sounds behind her grew louder.
Then she heard him, calling down each side passage that he passed. "Marian?...MARIAN!" She tried to cry out again but suddenly felt pressure on her shoulder. They had reached her. She was paralyzed. "Fenris…" she whispered again as darkness begin closing in.
"Marian…" She could barely hear him now. She glanced up and saw only the glow of yellow eyes…
"Marian." Fenris quietly spoke her name again, pushing gently against her shoulder. How anyone can sleep this deeply…
"Fenris," she gasped as she shot up on the bedroll, drenched in sweat, her heart still racing as she took large, heaving breaths of air. Fenris jumped back a little, resting on his heels, thoroughly startled. Hawke caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over. The realization of what had really occurred flooded her body with relief.
"Are you…are you all right?" he ventured cautiously, unsure of himself.
She slowly caught her breath as her heartrate began to drop. "Yes." Her voice was hoarse, as it had been in her dream. Instinctively he reached for her waterskin and handed it to her. A whispered "thanks" was all she could manage.
His brow furrowed as he searched her face for the truth. She does not look all right to me. I've never seen her like this before, so…shaken.
A few moments passed soundlessly when Hawke finally spoke up, her voice clearer now and her confidence returning as the last memories of her nightmare faded.
"I suppose it's my turn to take watch." It was a statement rather than a question; Fenris didn't respond, still confused by the state she'd been in only minutes before. She pulled herself up off the bedroll momentarily forgetting that she was wearing only her under padding. Her back was to Fenris and she squeezed her eyes closed as she realized her mistake. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to…the last thing I need is to make him even more upset with me or my attempts to push him further than he's ready to go. She quickly composed herself and moved toward her armor.
Fenris had indeed taken notice of her attire and his thoughts spun even further into confusion. He glanced up and could see only the backs of her bare legs, rising up to meet the start of her ample bottom that, from his angle, was just barely exposed by her short under armor. His throat felt suddenly parched and he turned his gaze away to pick up the waterskin that Hawke had just used. I know her decision was one of practicality alone, but this is not helping my resolve.
Standing quickly, Fenris cleared his throat, "The camp has been unguarded too long. I'll step outside and keep watch until you're ready." Silently, he slipped out through the tent flaps before Hawke had a chance to respond. Too tired to run through what had just happened, Hawke methodically dressed in her armor and pulled on her boots. She brushed through her hair quickly with her fingers, not really caring how it appeared at that point.
She grabbed up her waterskin and sheathed her daggers, stepping out of the tent. Fenris was standing a few yards away, back to her. He turned around at the familiar jingle of her armor, unable to make out her expression in the dark.
"I'm all set," she said, forcing a smile. "You can get some sleep now." He nodded and moved toward the tent as she stepped out of his way, giving him a wide berth. He had noticed and a lump formed in his throat. She's giving me space. But that's what I asked for, I suppose. Regret began to creep in but then he recalled the events of the morning and clenched his fists, entering the tent with a fresh determination to concentrate on the expedition and nothing else.
The rustle of hirelings awakening and the sound of pots and pans clattering from within the mess tent signaled to Hawke that the night was finally over. She sighed in relief, exhaustion taking over her. I've never wanted sleep more in my life. She groaned to herself, knowing it would be more than twelve hours until she would have the opportunity. At least I know I'll be able to quickly fall asleep tonight. It was a cold comfort. She made one last loop around the camp as she headed toward the mess, her stomach suddenly reminding her how hungry she was.
The increase in ambient sound woke Fenris from his sleep. He absentmindedly squeezed his outstretched hand, his heart dropping as he remembered she was not there. Despite how little sleep he'd gotten, he was quickly awake and alert, falling into his morning routine – without Hawke.
Back at the mess, Hawke was devouring her second bowl of porridge, surprised at her appetite. The sudden bellow of Bartrand's voice from across the camp caused her to jump, "VARRIC. Get your lazy arse out of bed; we're ready to move in one hour or you lose your cut." His voice had become so grating recently that it made her stomach immediately feel ill and she gave up the rest of her breakfast, pushing the bowl as far away from her as she could manage. This expedition can't end soon enough. I honestly don't know how Varric hasn't killed his brother with his bare hands yet…
Fighting her exhaustion, she headed back to her tent to wash, struggling with her nerves at the thought of encountering Fenris. She didn't need to worry, however; he was nowhere in sight. She was about to go hunt down a bucket when she noticed one already sitting outside the tent, filled with fresh water. She smiled to herself, though she felt more sad than happy.
The camp was a-bustle that morning as Bartrand was somehow even more on edge than the previous day. His behavior was becoming erratic and it was beginning to cause Hawke concern. Something was clearly wrong but she was in no position to inquire. When she had asked Varric earlier that morning, he shrugged, muttering something about stone up his ass. Hawke had noticed Fenris at one point heading to the mess tent, but that was her only sight of him that morning until the caravan was ready to move forward.
Bartrand had the group position themselves at the front and rear of the caravan again, given his fears from the previous day. Hawke and Fenris were to take up the lead, with Varric and Anders watching the flank. Fenris kept himself always several yards ahead of Hawke and she was too tired to attempt to do anything about it.
The day was largely uneventful, other than a few encounters with more giant spiders. Hawke did notice that Fenris continued to use his powers during these fights which gave her a little hope – but not much. Between those few encounters, her concentration was on her bedroll. Despite the hard ground and the hot air, she could think of little else. Just a few more hours, Marian. Then you can sleep. I pray to Andraste that last night's dreams will not come again…nor the previous night's, for that matter. She shuddered involuntarily, noticing Fenris glance back in concern.
She looked up and briefly caught his gaze, "Tired." She smiled weakly. He nodded, "You should get to bed early tonight." And with that brief suggestion he was marching ahead again. Though his words were short, there was still a warmness them, which helped her feel a little more relaxed.
Again the group did not stop for lunch but walked and ate. Everyone was silent, only the creaking and groaning of wagons and the occasional snort from the oxen could be heard with the shuffling of feet echoing in the cavern.
As the hours passed Hawke found it more and more difficult to push herself. At long last she heard Bartrand announce to the hirelings that it was time to start setting up camp again. For once, she welcomed the sound of his voice.
She and Fenris set up the tent in silence, both too tired and too uncertain of the other to try to start any kind of conversation. Fenris gathered the buckets for washing and indicated to her that she could wash up first. She uttered a brief "thanks" and didn't even try to argue with him. She wanted to simply fall asleep right then and there but knew it would be unwise to skip a meal. She also knew she wouldn't want to miss her tea again that night unless she wanted to have to deal with even more problems during the expedition. The men have no idea how easy they have it. She frowned to herself.
She didn't even bother making an effort to conceal her actions as she prepared the tea and brought it to the dinner table – she was too irritable from a lack of sleep to care. She gingerly set the cup on the table, having caught her second wind at last, and sat down. Varric, Anders, and Fenris were already seated – Fenris on his second helping of stew. Anders glanced at the cup and gave her a stern and knowing nod, assuming that it was his lecture that resulted in her decision to drink her tea again. She rolled her eyes and he turned away.
Varric leaned forward and gave it a sniff, crinkling his nose, "Andraste's ass, Hawke – what is that foul-smelling shit you drink every night?" Not missing a beat, she responded curtly, "It's to prevent me from bleeding out." Anders, in the middle of a swig of ale, nearly choked as he burst out laughing at her sudden frankness. Varric shook his head as her meaning sunk in, "Too much information, Hawke." She shrugged, continuing to maintain a straight face. "You asked."
Fenris was silent and Hawke was afraid to glance up to see if he had been paying attention to the conversation – she was beginning to regret her remark. Finally she mustered the courage to peak at him from under her eyelashes. He was still looking down at his meal, but there was an unmistakable smirk on his face as Varric continued to mumble in disgust at Hawke's pronouncement. At least he still enjoys my awful sense of humor. The thought made her nearly giddy, but she knew it was just the lack of sleep that caused the sudden surge of elation. Things had not yet improved between them.
She continued to eat in silence, listening to Anders and Varric bicker over who would get to take first watch that night. Fenris finished his third helping just as Sandal ran up to gather his bowls, staring again at his markings. He was too tired to notice or respond to his impertinent questions about "enchantment" and "shinies." He left the table so quickly and quietly that Hawke didn't notice until she had finished eating. Her heart sunk. She hoped maybe a little light-hearted conversation would help ease the tension from yesterday morning. I can't believe that was only yesterday. It seems like years ago. Maker's balls I need sleep… Her second wind was fading fast.
Varric quickly shifted Bianca out of the way as Hawke stood and squeezed past him. Her head felt light and her feet felt heavy as she dragged herself toward the tent. She pulled back the tent flaps cautiously, but realized she didn't need to – Fenris was fast asleep. She was too tired to even revel in the fact that he had his shirt off again. She didn't blame him, actually. The cavern had grown very hot as they drew closer to the lava flows. She had a quick mental battle with herself as she glanced down at her normal nightwear, already feeling sweaty under the fabric. If I sleep in my smallclothes…Fenris will definitely wake up first. I don't want to complicate things more. She grew agitated. This is unfair. I should be able to be comfortable. That's when she noticed his black silk shirt folded neatly in the corner of the tent. He did say I could wear it if I wanted to…dammit. I want to get sleep tonight. She hurriedly stripped down to her underthings, removing her breast band. She snatched up his shirt and pulled it over her head. Hawke paused for a moment as his scent filled her nostrils. No, Marian. Stop. She shook her head and began buttoning the shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone.
The shirt fell down to her mid-thigh and she had to roll the sleeves up quite a bit, but it was far cooler than her normal attire – and certainly more modest than her smallclothes. She haphazardly tossed her clothing into a pile in the corner and stretched herself out on her bedroll, shifting onto her side with her back to Fenris. Her cloak was folded next to her in case she grew cold during the night – something she greatly doubted as sweat began beading on the back of her neck under her thick hair. She reached back and twisted her hair up and away from her neck to rest on the bedroll behind her head, sighing contentedly as her neck began to cool. It was only moments later that she surrendered to a long-awaited sleep.