All Souls Day was promising to be the worst it had ever been this year. Marian set up the remembrance table in the library by herself for the first time in her life. They had managed to bring so little with them from Lothering thanks to Leandra's dithering and indecisiveness, but the little bits and bobs they had managed bring were priceless, and used only for this time of year now. She started by placing the scarf her mother had made on the table. The soft-spun yarn it was knit from had been their father's gift to Leandra one year, when the twins were two if she recalled correctly. Marian had gone to Amaranthine with him to purchase it. She remembered the snooty Orlesian merchant and the cloud-like rabbit he'd had on a leash with him to demonstrate where the yarn came from. Leandra had hand-dyed it deep red with swirls of blue, and finished knitting it in time to wear to the Wintersend Chantry service.
They had taken it from Bethany's neck before quickly stacking the stone cairn over her while fleeing Ferelden. The embroidered undershirt of Bethany's that had made the journey in a satchel was folded up and placed next to the scarf, and a bangle of carved whitewood that had been her 16th nameday present, transported in a pocket.
Next, she laid out Malcolm's wedding ring, which had been kept safe on a chain around her neck for many a year, and leaned his staff against the table. Oddly, their noble Amell grandparents had kept that stashed safely in a chest in their basement, perhaps their way of staying connected with the wayward daughter's family somehow?
If Carver showed up as he was supposed to, Leandra's wedding ring would join their father's on the table. The worn leather cuffs and belt that their father had handed down to Carver when he'd gotten big enough to wear them himself had been polished and repaired as soon as they could afford it. They only ever emerged for All Souls Day now, whereas before they were part of the only armor they could afford for Carver to wear.
Finally, Leandra's remembrances were laid out. The bottle of scent that had been from Kirkwall to Lothering and back, carefully unwrapped from the roll of fabric used to keep it from shattering, formerly hidden in the lining of a satchel. Supposedly the bottle itself had been her Great-Great Grandmother Walker's, and made it down to her mother. Her hairbrush, with a few threads of steely gray hair still caught in the bristles, one of the few items Gamlen hadn't gambled away before she had returned, and the first pair of gloves Leandra purchased with the newly restored Amell/Hawke fortune.
"Bodhan, has Orana unpacked the vases for me?" Marian called down to the entry hall. With the remembrances set out, vases were added with flowers to be refreshed every day as a reminder that life was delicate and temporary. "Bodhan, are you there?"
She left the library, and gasped when she spotted Carver at the top of the staircase, arms full of asphodels and willow. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm a Hawke too, you know. You're not the only one who misses Father, Mother, and Bethany," he snapped.
Marian jerked back as if Carver had slapped her. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "I brought flowers for the remembrance table, do you want them or not?"
"Of course I do. Just let me go and get the vases."
A quick trip down to the kitchen saw the vases just finished drying, and Marian gathered them close. When she got back to the library, Carver had the perfume bottle in his hands, the stopper pulled out the smallest fraction. He took in a deep breath and said, "This always reminds me of Father's birthday, and days Mother wanted to make it a special day for no reason."
"It was the only time she'd wear it, just a tiny drop, because we couldn't afford to get any imported by Father's contacts in Amaranthine."
"Remember when Bethy and I turned ten? All I wanted was a sword so I could practice with Father and spend time with him. All she wanted was to wear a drop herself for the day so she could be grown-up like Mother." Carver pressed a large hand to his face, covering his eyes. His jaw clenched, and he breathed out a hard breath. Trembling fingers pushed the stopper back into the bottle. With great care, he set it back into place, and then traced his fingers over the soft scarf and the carved bangle. He took one of the asphodels, broke the stem, and set it among her remembrances. "I miss Bethy so much."
"I miss her too." Marian set the vases on the table and started arranging the other asphodels and willow.
"You have a funny way of showing it. I don't think I've heard you breathe a word of her since we got to this damn city," Carver sniped.
"What was I supposed to do, brother? Spend every night wailing into my pillow like Mother? We were going to starve if you and I didn't drag ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn for Athenril, and after that year we had to keep doing it to get the money for the damn expedition. Somehow I always end up leader of whatever pack of people we're running around with, so I had to keep it together and act like it."
"Yeah, that expedition. The one I busted my arse to help get the money for, and big brave sister left me behind. Again. Because it's always got to be about her."
"That's not fair, Carver, and you know it!" She turned from the vases and strode up to him, realizing he was a full head taller than her now.
"Oh, so tell me how I'm supposed to see it, Marian!" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You were there! Mother was weeping and wailing about losing her another one of her babies. She didn't give a damn if I was lost on that bloody expedition, but if you had come along and gotten so much as a stubbed toe, she would have blistered me with her tongue! You say you want to stop living in my shadow? What makes you think I wanted to be put up on that pedestal in the first place? It was Mother the whole time, you know it was! Maker's bloody balls, when I got back she blamed me for you joining the Templars! Did you ever try to stop Mother from blaming you for something when she was dead-set on it? It's not that easy."
Carver's jaw worked, and he ground out, "I just wanted to be someone besides the nuisance younger brother."
"You are," Marian's voice cracked. "Carver, you're the only family I've got left, the one Templar in the whole of the Gallows that the mages can trust. How many times did you send me patrol schedules before I became Champion to keep me out of there? That is being someone. What would I do without you?"
"Only family? What about Uncle Gamlen?"
"Oh, I make sure he survives, and his rent is paid, but he's not family like you are. Want to know a secret?"
Carver raised a brow, "When don't I?"
"I always wished Mother would stop telling you to act more like me. I'm a mess."
He started laughing. "Did you ever say that to her?"
"Oh, constantly. Then she'd scold me and tell me I should know better because I needed to be an example for you," Marian paused, wringing her fingers together. She hesitated for another moment, then spoke softly, "Speaking of which, take your time with Merrill," He spluttered as she gave him a small, sad smile. "I think I ruined everything with Fenris."
Carver's arms dropped, and he frowned. "Did you, or is it him? He may be able to swing that sword around like a twig, but I bet I could still catch him and give him a proper thrashing like a Fereldan farm boy and defensive brother if you think it'll help."
"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe it was both of us. I just… Mother and I fought right before she died, and we never had a chance to make it right. What if I never get a chance to make it right with him?"
"You can't know what the future holds, sister. I may not have the best opinion of him, but I saw how he looked at you during Mother's funeral. He'll come around eventually, I think. I still won't say no to the chance to give him a thrashing."
"It's good to see that being around Knight-Commander Looney and Knight-Captain Uptight hasn't changed you too terribly much, Carver."
"I'm still a Hawke, Marian, no matter who I'm with or what I wear."