Just a little character piece I've had in my head for a while. No immediate plans to continue it, but maybe I will if the mood takes me.
Marian sat forward on the couch, staring into the crackling flames of the fireplace in her library. The warm glow illuminated the shadowy, darker corners of the room, but her home felt no warmer, fuller for it. In fact, Marian didn't feel much of anything at all.
The letter that had arrived from the Gallows lay on the arm of the couch, beside her.
She clenched, and unclenched her hands, gripping them hard one minute, till they were white, then releasing, letting the blood tingle and flow again.
The estate could be so…so empty, sometimes. And these moments of weakness would sneak up on her, washing over her like a tidal wave of…dread, of quiet, of being alone, feeling nothing.
"I didn't want any of this." Marian mumbled, watching the dancing flames with unseeing eyes.
Father gone, mother gone, Carver gone, Bethany…Bethany locked up in the Circle, for all intents and purposes, gone as well.
They'd come to Kirkwall to start over, to try and survive, to try and keep their family together.
A few stray tears slipped down her already dried, stained cheeks. She sniffed, clenching her hands tighter again.
Losing Bethany hurt her the most. Did that make her cruel? She missed her father, and Carver, and her mother. She'd loved them all. But Bethany…
Bethany had understood her. In a way mother hadn't. And she didn't try to fight her, in everything, like Carver had. She didn't have anything she felt she needed to prove. Their affection, their love was…unconditional.
She didn't like to admit that she needed somebody to lean on, sometimes. Ever since father passed, Marian had carried their family, as best she could. Then she'd come to Kirkwall, and met others, like Merrill, Varric, Fenris and the rest, and she carried them too.
After the defeating the Arishok, and thwarting the Qunari invasion of the city, Marian felt like she was carrying all of Kirkwall now, too. She was its Champion, for whatever that was worth, and whatever it meant.
But the weight was so…so damnably heavy, now.
Mages and Templars at each other's throats. Getting worse every day. The tension in the city was so thick you could cut it with a-
There was a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in." She called, not looking up from the fire.
"You have a visitor, Lady Hawke." Bodahn announced softly, from the door. "I could…tell them to come back later, if…" He offered, sympathetically.
"Who is it?" She asked, closing her eyes.
In her mind she could see her, Bethany, as clearly as if she were in the room with her. Soft, where she was hard. Smooth, where she was ragged. Gentle, where she was rough. Pale, almost glowing skin, where hers was marked, scarred, particularly the large, mottled, dark old scar across her nose, and under her eyes.
"Varric Tethras, Messere." Bodahn replied.
Hawke nodded slowly, trailing a finger idly across the bumpy, stained skin.
A lingering gift, from a time she'd picked a fight with the wrong boy, the blacksmith's son in Lothering. But then he'd been picking on Bethany, and he'd already hit Carver for trying to help his twin sister out.
"Let him in, Bodahn." Hawke said, eventually.
She waited until she heard Bodahn leave before opening her eyes and staring into the crackling flames again, watching the shadows dance over the deep red carpet under her feet, and the elegant stone-work floor.
Of course, the boy hadn't bothered Bethany, or Carver again, after she'd finished teaching him a lesson. But she'd learned a couple of her own, that day.
One, some scars never heal.
Two, Marian was prepared to do absolutely anything in the world for her sister.
They'd always been close. Closer to each other than to either Carver or mother. Closer certainly than most sisters perhaps should have been, even back then. Marian felt like some little, niggling part of her had known, but that was probably just her trying to…to rationalise what happened as the years went on, to take responsibility, or blame, for things that just weren't entirely her fault, or at least, decisions that she shared the blame for.
Marian raised her hands to her chin and rested her elbows on her knees, frowning as she chewed over the word 'blame'. It didn't seem quite right, not when she didn't really regret any of it, what she and Bethany had done, or become to each other. And why should she? She loved her sister, and Bethany loved her.
In a world where they'd had only each other and the…the struggling idea of their family…
"Thought I'd find you sulking in here, Hawke." Varric entered the library, waiting by the door.
"I'm not sulking, I'm brooding." Marian half-smiled, turning toward her dwarven friend. She softly patted the sofa beside her, before leaning on resting her chin on her hands again.
"Don't try to wordplay a wordsmith, you're smarter than that." Varric crossed the room, dropping onto the sofa beside her. He leaned back, crossing his legs and staring into the fire with her. "Rivaini's been missing you. I wonder why?" He grinned.
"Don't be lewd." Marian replied, trying to be serious, but smiling anyway.
"Would you have me stop being myself entirely, my lady?" Varric gasped, mock-appalled.
"It's Hawke to you, you know that." Marian sighed. "None of that "my lady" nonsense."
"Whatever you say." Varric shrugged, as she turned to face him. "Hawke." He added, with a grin.
"Good." She smiled a little, turning back to the fire. "What brought you over then, Isabela couldn't stop by herself?"
"Be fair, Hawke. Aveline lets a lot slide with Rivaini, but even she had to ban her from Hightown after what she did to that statue of Andraste. You know, the last time we were all at the Hanged Man when-"
"Maker's Breath, I remember." Hawke groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Not that I relish being able to." She laughed, softly.
"I've know you for…what…five or six years now? But even I never knew you had it in you." Varric chuckled, along with her.
"Hasn't felt like it." Marian said quietly, staring back into the flames.
She could feel Varric watching her, carefully. He hadn't asked what was wrong, yet, and she thought perhaps she loved him for it, in a way. Varric was a friend, her closest, maybe. A friend in the truest sense, who'd stuck with her as she'd stuck with him through the years, no matter what.
Varric spun his stories, played the part of the gossip and rumour broker, at the heart of dozens of woven threads between contacts and informants among Kirkwall's denizens. But he classed his companions and friends as off-limits, unless he had good reason. And if Varric felt he had good reason, well, then you possibly had good reason to be concerned.
"You can ask." Marian shrugged, picking up the letter from the Gallows and passing it over. "Or you can read this."
"The last time I saw you like this Leandra had just…passed." He muttered, taking the letter. "Nothing happened to Sunshine, right?" He laughed, nervously.
Marian didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish reading it.
She listened as he murmured slightly, under his breath as he worked through it. Eventually she heard him fold the letter and she held out her hand, as he returned it.
"I'm sorry, Hawke." He said, quietly.
"It's all the trouble between the mages and the Templars. For every little incident or escape, or any perceived slight against her order," Marian grumbled, slowly. ", Knight-Commander Meredith squeezes tighter and tighter and tighter. Now she's forbidden all outside visitors to any mage in the Gallows without her personal permission. Whether they're friend, family or…or more."
"You don't think she'd bar you, do you?" Varric argued. "You're the Champion of Kirkwall, if word got around she refused to let you visit your sister-"
"My sympathetic leanings toward the mages are a bit of an open secret, Varric." Marian shrugged. "I've broken my share of laws and worked against the Templars more than a few times in the past. There's nothing Meredith has to publicly accuse me with, but she suspects, and that will be enough, I think. There's no way she'll let me see Bethany."
"She's turned every mage in the Gallows into…into a hostage?" Varric growled, in disbelief.
"It's a smart move." Marian scrunched up the letter, tossing it into the fire. She watched the flames lick at the edges, as it curled and blackened. "It'll make things worse. But maybe that's what she wants. Only one mage has to throw the first punch, and then she gets what she wants."
She was momentarily surprised when she felt Varric's hand on her shoulder. He'd never been much for contact before. Words were his gift, his skill.
But she wanted touch, now. Something tangible, solid, to feel. She placed her hand over his.
"Sunshine'll be alright, Hawke. She's smart." He grinned. "Smarter than you, anyway."
Marian smiled, squeezing his hand on her shoulder.
"I miss her so much."
The fire danced before them, the last of the letter little more than ashes, gone. Marian watched the flickering tips of the flames, imagining she could see Bethany, smiling, her palm upturned, gently teasing the embers of magical fire in her hand.
Smiling at her.
Holding her, in the night, when they were alone.
Kissing her, when-
"I love her so much." She whispered, her voice breaking.
Marian waited for Varric to say something. It was as good as an admission, in one way or another, that her feelings toward her sister weren't entirely purely familial. They'd always been careful, she thought. Mother had never suspected, she was sure of that. And Carver…Carver had never been able to see far beyond Carver.
"I did wonder sometimes, Hawke." Varric said, eventually. He didn't remove his hand. "I feel like this solves a piece of the 'Hawke puzzle' I've never quite been able to figure out for the last few years, really."
Marian turned sharply, worriedly.
"What? You never-"
"You're a pretty closed book, I'll admit. But Sunshine wore her heart on her sleeve, especially around you." Varric smiled, looking past her, into the fire. There was no judgement, or anger, or cynicism in his face, or tone. She allowed herself to relax. "I didn't ask because it wasn't my business, and we didn't know each other well back then. And when Bethany was found by the Templars, well…why open that wound?" He shrugged.
Marian sat back, letting herself sink into the couch, beside Varric.
"Bethany and I were…more to each other, than sisters." Marian said. It was the first time she'd said it aloud, it was an admission half to herself.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Varric asked. "You don't have to, we can always have a drink or twelve instead. You've gotta have something strong in your big fancy house." He smirked.
Hawke sighed, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Why not both, Varric?"
"Why not." Varric grinned back.