Mizuki: Thank God! I've taken care of most of my stories so I get to do the stupidest thing ever. MAKE ANOTHER ONE!
Fenris: Are you sure that's the best idea?
Hawke: Never ask her that question. I've been talking to the others, and she's battier than Meredith.
Mizuki: Woah, woah! Let's not go over board here!
Varric: Yes, let's not accuse the crazy fangirl who kidnapped us all in the middle of the night even after we've been hiding from the chantry for so long of being insane.
Mizuki: -.- You obviously weren't hiding well. You got caught and blabbed your guts out to some crazy chantry lady.
Everyone :YOU WHAT?
Mizuki: While they chase Varric, let me announce that I own nothing.
I never told anyone about where my tattoos came from, those intricate green markings that wove themselves just below my emerald eyes. I just appeared with them one day. Out of the blue. Mother was furious, but Father . . . said nothing. He merely looked at them and questioned. "Where have you been this week?"
I opened my mouth to answer, only to realize that I had no idea. In fact, many of my more minor memories for the entire year had completely blurred themselves beyond recognition. "It's official," Father said, taking in the markings. "Those aren't tattoos, their markings. Someone's cursed you into forgetting something." He took my chin in his hand and made me look him in the eye. "Perhaps it has something to do with that friend you've been meeting?" His tone made it obvious that, though he knew of this friend, I had told him nothing.
Usually, I'd have made a quirky remark. Probably something about my snooping getting me into more trouble than I could handle . . . again, but something felt wrong. "I don't . . . I can't remember anyone." Without warning, tears began to fall from my eyes, surprising both my father and mother, as I hadn't cried since I was a babe. The minute Carver and Bethany had been born, I'd stopped myself mid-cry. Father said it was scary, like I automatically knew I didn't have the courtesy of crying anymore.
I felt like something was very wrong. There was something I was supposed to do, something I was supposed to say, but I simply couldn't pull the task out of my mind. My hand unconsciously reached out for another's, but that hand wasn't there. I heard a voice shriek in my mind he's not here but couldn't remember who he was.
The next year, Father never mentioned what had happened. He said that such a spell could only be broken by two people: the caster and the victim. Either I would have to find the caster of the spell (unlikely, considering that I didn't remember them either) or I would have to force my memories to the surface through intense meditation, but that would take years.
That was how my companions found me one day. Sitting in front of the fire, my armor and staff hidden away, my eyes closed, my hair lose from its usual bun, humming my own mantra.
"I never took you for one to meditate," Varric commented, setting Bianca down to sit on my sofa as they all took their own seats, Isabela and Aveline sitting on opposite ends of another sofa, poor Merril stuck between them, while Anders went next to Varric and Fenris took the only chair.
"Yes, I find it comforting to sit in completely boring silence to stare at the inside of my eyelids until my nose bleeds." I rolled my eyes as Orana came into the room.
"Mistress! Did you get another nose-bleed!" She was a constant worry wort and quickly rushed over to make sure I was fine.
"No, Orana. I was merely joking with the others. If I did, I would have asked for another towel. Do not worry yourself so much."
"Do not tell me not to worry myself Mistress, " she said sternly. "The last time you went into your little 'meditating state' you stayed there for three days!" she shook her head. "Your mother was worried sick about you!" Looking to the others, she pleaded with them. "Please stay longer than normal. As long as there are others around, perhaps she'll keep the meditation to a minimum." With that, she left us to our conversations.
"She's become much bolder," Aveline noted. "I remember when we found her, all scared and feeble. Now she's scolding you!"
"After she had to take care of my first nose bleed, I think she started getting frustrated with my complete inability to take care of myself."
"What's that about?" Anders asked, curious. "You're not trying to learn a new spell or something are you? There are easier ways."
"Not learn a spell," I replied. "I want to break one. The one someone used to erase my memories when I was sixteen."
I instantly saw Fenris stiffen, as he always did when someone mentioned magic used in such a way. This time, however, I saw a flash of anger cross over his face. "You don't seem to angry over this," he mused. "You seem almost content."
"Oh, trust me, I'm pissed. When I find the blighter who did this, I'll be sure to set him on fire before I kill him. I lost an entire year, and father thought he knew why."
"Care to share?" Isabela asked.
"There was a boy," I answered. Before Isabela opened her moth again, I cut her off, "Not like that." Her face fell at the fact that she didn't get to mess with my head anymore. "I don't remember him clearly, but I do remember that he was my friend. Father said I'd been going out to visit him almost every day for the whole year. Sometimes . . . I'd take healing potions and herbs with me. He must have gotten hurt a lot, but I can't remember. The only things I can recall from that entire year are a quiet field I've never been able to find, a song I've never heard before or since, and cutting someone's black hair.
"Frustrated as I was with the whole thing, I'm sure Father was more frustrated. I once heard him tell mother that he was more angry over the fact that someone got close enough to his little girl to mark her without any of his spells going off, which means he must have been old and powerful.
"Ever since I've made a habit of going into meditation at least once a day, trying to figure out what happened. Every day it's something new. A face, or a lyric to the song I mentioned. Last year I got all the memories of my family back, along with some of the ones with the other people in Lothering, but when it comes to that boy . . . I can't see anything."
"What an awful thing to do to a person. The Keeper told me about such spells. They're forbidden, as memories are a precious thing. To place one on a mage before her adulthood is . . . cruel."
"Is there any way to get your memories back faster?" Aveline asked. "Surely the way things are now, you'll never find this boy."
"The only way to break the spell is for me to force my memories to the surface or for the caster to lift it. I've got no idea who did it, so I'm going to have to figure it out on my own." The crest fallen looks on their faces pushed me to put an end to such a somber conversation. "So, who thinks they can beat me at speed?" smiles breaking out on their faces, a flurry of people came to challenge me at one of the only three games I ever beat any of them at.
As such, no one but I noticed that Fenris, probably still frustrated with my lack of action, stayed in his seat, silently watching me win.
It was that night that I had the dream. I laid to bed and for no reason at all, whispered the words I'd only just remembered. (A.N. This song is actually called Aimo from the anime Macross Froteir. It was too beautiful not to put in a story.)
Aimo Aimo
Ne de ru rushe
Noina meria
Ende protea
Fontomi
Koko wa attaka na
Umietao
Ru rei rureia
Sora oba hirbari
Wan na ita
Ru rei rureia
Hoba iwa a
Shashni to rikono
Aimo Aimo
Ne de ru rushe
Noina meria
Ende protea
Fontomi
Koko wa attaka na
Mumeno okuri ne muru
Ookina ookite
Itsuku shimiwa
Tsunabu he no
He na no
Oun da de
Shizukari
Maya sabashe o
Koko wa attaka na
Umietao
Aimo Aimo
Ne de ru rushe
Mukashi mina
Hito tsudata
Sekae ohite
Attaka na sola ta yo
The quiet lullaby slipped through my lips thoughtlessly, lulling my into a sleep that revealed more than those three years of meditation.
I run through the trees as quickly as I can, the sound of footsteps quickly behind me. Once again, my stupid need to know everything about everyone had gotten me in a big mess, letting me be witness to a bunch of robbers setting up camp not too far from our cottage at the edge of town.
As if the Maker wanted to punish me for nosing around where I shouldn't, I tripped over a root, my ankle twisting painfully. Before I can get back up, a hand grabs my wrist and yanks me forward. Fearing it's a thief, I prepare a mental blast, only to be met with the face of an elf I'd never met before.
He was quite handsome. His hair is a thick black that spiked at certain spots and fell in front of his eyes. Those eyes! People told me my eyes were captivating, but they obviously hadn't met this boy. His are a green so beautiful, I find myself staring into them before shaking my head and reminding myself that this certainly is neither the time or place.
With out a word, he pulls me forward. Staring at him, I see that he surely isn't from Lothering, as no one there has a tan as golden as his. A sharp pain in my ankle stops my thoughts and, despite my attempt to smother it, he hears my tiny whimper of protest at the movement of my leg.
He stops to look at me. Seeing that I'm favoring my leg, he quietly whispers, afraid to alert the robbers. "Are you hurt?" I nod silently, not wanting to speak, not for my pursuers, but because I know it would shake it I did. His low, smooth voice had an effect on me no one's ever had, despite the attempts of some of the farm boys in town.
Not waiting for another answer, he scoops me up and begins to run with me in his arms like it's nothing. I press my face to his chest to hide my scarlet face. Bollocks! Since when I had started acting a . . . teenager? I had shared perverted innuendo with the whores in the city, out cursed sailors, and even gone skinny dipping in a river once! A single boy picks me up and suddenly I'm acting like I can't handle myself.
A voice calls out from behind us. "Stop right there, kiddo." Looking over his shoulder, I see the leader, sweating from the chase and breathing heavily. "I don't care 'bout no slave, but that girl seen too much. Just put 'er down and we won't even beat ya like we do e'erone else."
My anger flares at his words. So what if he was an elf? So what if I was a girl? It doesn't give them a right to treat us like this. "Put me down," I whisper in his ear, as I mentally chant the new spell Father taught me. "I'll be alright," I say, as he stiffened at my request. "Just promise me you won't hate me."
I feel him nod slightly before gently setting me on my feet, though he keeps a firm grip on my arm. Smirking widely, I look at the group as they come together. Perfect. "You wanted easy prey right?" I ask. "Shouldn't have judged me so poorly." Without warning, a blast of fire shoots out from the middle of their herd, taking out over half of them. The rest rush at me only to realize that I'd recently perfected my new favorite spell: Cone of Cold.
Staring at their frozen faces, the boy turns to me with a look of shock on his face. "You're an apostate." He says. His tone, shocked and scared, makes me rush to fix it all.
"Please don't tell the templars!" I plead. "I don't care about what happens to me, but they'll take Father and my little sister! Please don't turn me in!" He opens his mouth to speak, but I don't notice. "I promise I'll pay you for what you've done. I've little money, but I get paid for my hunts in two days! If you'll just wait until then –" He puts his hand over my mouth, stoping the flood of words from continuing to spill out.
"You owe me nothing," he says. "I promise I won't tell the templars you're here." He looks at me. "My master, a magister from Tevinter, would beat me to the ground if I did."
Taking his hand off my mouth I glare, not at him in particular, but in some unknown magister I've never met. "I would rather you turned me in than keep my secret for so horrible a reason." A look of confusion falls over his face. "I hate slavers, slave owners, and people who agree with them. No person has the right to own another, race be damned."
A smirk falls over his face. "Perhaps, but I've learned not to question my fate." Seeing I was not happy with that answer, he quickly added, "But, I am grateful for your words. Let them be my payment."
I open my mouth to answer when I notice the mark on his shoulder. "Oh Maker! You're bleeding!" Without thinking, I ghost my fingers over what little of the mark shows before he brushes me off.
"It is nothing," he says. "Just a scratch."
"Just-a-scratch my ass! That's a wound!" I see him open his mouth the correct me, but cut him off. "Oh no," I say, sitting him underneath a tree. "You're staying right here until I get my things from home. It's not too far from here. If I see that you've moved, I'll hunt you down and tie you to the tree. That needs to be looked at."
Whether it is the slave in him, or I'm really that scary, he sits and I find that he's there when I return from the house with the first aid basket. "Alright, let me see it." I see him thinking over his choices and say, "If you don't take the shirt off yourself, I'll do it for you." A moment goes by before the blush sets in and I realize just what I've said. "That . . . did not come out as threatening as I wanted it to."
He chuckles as he lifts that shirt and I'm glad I'm already blushing. His torso is tight and covered in muscle. It's no wonder he was able to carry me so easily! He turns his back and I see that the scratch is far too long to be from an accident. It reaches from his left shoulder to his right hip, the angle and depth intentional as someone meant to hurt him.
"I'm guessing your master did this?" I ask, dipping a cloth in a potion before gently cleaning the wound.
"I was foolish. I ought to know better." His voice is void of emotion, but I can tell that, deep down, he doesn't believe that.
My hand acts on it's own, coming up to hit his head. It wasn't meant to hurt, or teas. Only a repremand I usually gave Carver when he got a little too sword happy and wound up hurting someone. "Don't lie. I don't care if you lie to yourself when I'm not around, but don't do it in front of me. We both know that nothing deserves this type of treatment." He is silent.
"Thank you," he says eventually, after I've finished dressing the wound. "That's the first time someone other than my sister has cleaned my wounds. Even Mother refuses."
"I'm deciding not to comment on that," I say as I put everything back in the basket. "I do believe I've gotten in enough trouble for one day."
Now he actually laughs. Not a chuckle like before, but a pure laugh. The sound bounces off the trees and makes me shiver in a way I never knew I could. "You are a strange girl. I'm glad to have met you." He looks around, and I see his face change from amused to determined. "If you do not mind, I would like to see you again some time. My master and family will be here for about a year. If you do not mind sharing you company with an elf."
I smile, glad that he trusts me enough to offer me the liberty to see him again, though I inwardly frown at my glee to have the option. "I would not mind." I turn to leave, but turn to shout back at him. "Oh, I forgot. I'm Hawke!"
He turns and smiles, the sight giving me chills. "Leto," he answers, before disappearing into the mist.
I shot up in bed, the memory fresh in my mind. "Leto," I whispered. The name sounded so familiar on my lips that I whispered it again. "Leto." This time, I noticed the tears in my eyes. Who was that boy? Who was he that I began to cry at the thought that I'd forgotten him? I had not cried since I found out about the spell. What was so important about this boy that he had me sobbing?
I didn't see the others that day. I was too afraid to. Most of them would notice right away that something is the matter. I loved them all like family, but I didn't think I could handle their remarks on this mysterious boy, so I went to the one person I knew wouldn't filter their thoughts to make me feel better: Carver.
After asking Knight-Captain Cullen, I learned that he was on his day off, spending it, big surprise, in the training center. When I got there, he was joking with some of his fellow templars, one of whom I recognized as Keran, the boy we'd saved from the mages.
Saddly, he notices me before Carver. "Serrah Hawke," he said, surprised. "It's good to see you again."
"Hello Keran," I answered. "Would you boys mind terribly if I kidnapped my brother for the day? Mother's been wailing for the past three days."
Carver automatically got ready to argue, but his fellow templars all but threw him at me with assurances that they didn't mind at all. "You can't let me live my life, can you?" He demanded hotly as we reached the gardens. "I try to get out of your shadow and you –"
"I remembered his name," I blurted out. "The friend from that year I lost my memory, his name was Leto."
Carver looks at me with this look of shock. "I remember you talking about a Leto once. You gave him my sword one day. It was old, so Dad didn't put up a fight, but I threw a fit."
"I barely remember that. All I remember is you getting mad at me for giving your sword away."
"Well," he said. "How'd you meet him?"
"You remember those bandits that were found in that clearing, frozen and burnt?"
"Of course I remember," he replied. "Dad threw a fit so big even I was scared. You swore you had nothing to do with it. He believed you because you'd been having a hard time with your ice spells back then."
"Yeah, well, apparently I was better than he thought. I ran into the bandits, but I got hurt when I was running. Out of nowhere, this guy picks me up and starts to help me run. They caught up with up and I just . . .acted. I didn't even think about it. After that I dressed this gash he had on his back and we promised to meet up the next day."
"Did you?" he asked.
"That's the problem," I answered. "I don't remember."
"So you came here because . . ."
"I wanted to see if I'd mentioned Leto before. Mother doesn't remember anything." I sigh. "Why did I keep him such a secret? What happened that I didn't trust any of you with him?"
"I don't know." He answered. "Honestly, I don't care either." Without another word, he stomped off, leaving me there alone.
"Nice to see you too."