Author s Note: I don t own anything but the fic , characters etc. all belong to Bioware or whoever s got the copyrights.
Also, to those who actually LIKE reading my stuff (I m surprised if you do also touched) this is just something to dish out while I m looking for inspiration on the Void of Locke.
The night it was so calming, so serene. A deceptive shroud, masking the crime, the cruelty and the violence that took place in the darkest corners of Kirkwall. But to Marian Hawke, the Champion of this city, it was these hours that she could truly find peace with herself. Lately, not even the quiet of the night could calm her aching heart. Her heart was torn, wounded far too many times to heal. She was huddled on the balcony of her estate, sitting with her back against the cold stone wall, her knees hugged tight to her chest. She was crying, and she couldn t help it, her sobs muffled, her tears wiped, but they would not relent. There was simply too much for her to bear. The visage of carelessness, her non-chalant demeanor where all meant to hide what pained her day and night. Something grim was coming, she felt. Something that would shake Thedas down to it s very foundations. She felt so afraid, like she would lose even more of what little she had left. No, a feeling would not describe what ran through her being - a certainty, more like. She knew something would be taken from her once again.
Carver...her little brother the young boy she would tease day-in, day-out, the one sibling she rarely told just how much she loved. She regretted, and she blamed herself for his death, for so many words, unspoken. She had felt it, back then. The near hostility with which he held himself, the strain of his jaw and the grit of his teeth when she was near. She knew she had spurred much ambition within him. She was always the eldest, and strongest. She wielded a blade better than him and she would always best him in their jibes, always the one coming on top when exchanging witty remarks. He wanted to be better than her, he wanted to show her he wasn't "Stunty Carver" anymore. The grieving woman struck the wall behind her, gritting her teeth and crying out in pain. Pain jolting through her, it s beginnings: at her heart. Carver never had to prove anything to her, she already knew he would become better than her if only he had lived. She had only once ever told him that she loved him, a mistake that she did not do it often, a grave one as she saw it. He had gotten into a fight with a bigger lad, and had come out on top, he was covered in bruises and his nose hurt. He had won, but he was crying, he was in pain. That was a rare moment, when she would not tease him, nor would she jest. She would simply hold him tightly and whisper "I love you, brother, please don t cry".
Bethany when she was first taken to the Gallows, the worry she felt was unbearable. She wanted nothing more than to storm the heart of the Templars' power in Kirkwall and free her by force, but she wouldn t want that, would she? The danger of her being made tranquil, or framed of using Blood Magic, or even something as simple as an accident with a spell from one of her apprentices, it all made her heartstrings twist. She longed to see her sister again, to chatter and giggle about courtship and would-be suitors. Alas, she feared with the coming storm, mayhap those moments would never again lighten up her day.
Mother...the loss of her mother kept her awake, crying through many a night. How could one person bare this alone, how could she retain her sanity without her loved ones. She was the Champion: she had faced dragons, bested the qunari s greatest warrior: The Arishok and had vanquished demons of all shapes and sizes but everyone failed to realize that she was, in the end, only human. Mostly everyone. However she found sympathy in surprising places. Cullen, the knight-captain of the templars, for instance. From what little time she would have to speak with him, she would find much wisdom in him, and much compassion. He was a good man, she thought, and he understood her. Mayhap, he had felt such pain himself? It would explain the fear and anger in his eyes in the presence of mages, a sight not so strange for Kirkwaller-templars, though his she knew something much worse than Meredith's regime had spurred this emotion.
Her companions...they all had something hidden underneath the surface, and they all understood just what she was going through right now. Even Fenris had lowered his broody demeanor to offer his sympathies, even if they where clumsily worded. It touched her to know that even despite how much she tried to oppose and convince him there was a better way to handle mages, he would still see her as a friend.
Her musing was interrupted by a knock on the front door. She wondered, for a moment who it could be at this hour, in the middle of the night. She sighed in exhaustion, as sleep clawed at her half-lidded eyes, but would remain just out of reach, no matter how hard she tried to find rest. She slowly pushed herself up to her feet and felt a sudden jolt of warmth run through her as her blood began flowing faster again. How long had she been sitting here, she pondered, whilst heading into the second floor, then down the stairwell with the vulgar "art" , courtesy of Isabela. She looked to the side at Bodahn's sacks and chests, and Sandal's little box, she smiled, hearing the huffing and panting of the last member of her family still with her. Her ever-faithful mabari: Duncan. She smiled briefly at him, as his legs kicked this way and that in his sleep.
Eventually, she would reach the door and rubbing her eyes she would grasp the handle and push. With a subtle squeak the etched and reinforced wooden door would swing open. Outside, however, no one stood. She peeked outside and glanced about, the streets where empty, naught but a black cat slowly slinking into an alley. She remained there for a while longer, lost in thought again, before she felt a chill wind on her face. She shivered, just now being reminded how cold it is outside. She pulled the door back and shut it gently, so as not to wake the others. She walked back, and her eyes rested on Duncan, a joyful memory creeping into her mind as she would recall the day her father would carry the little pup home and present it to her.
"Happy birthday, sunshine." He said in his deep, compassionate voice. She recalled what a kind man he was."Lets see if he ll imprint on you." And as luck would have it, the pup would take a liking to his new owner quite quickly. She recalled fondly the nights after when she would sleep, curled up next to her loyal hound. "We'll call him Duncan. I met a great man by that name once, this one has greatness written on his nose, I'd say, don t you boy?" She felt her eyes water again as she remembered her father, she wiped away the moisture, and on a whim, she simply walked over to Duncan s rug and lied down, curling up next to him. She felt stupid for a moment, but few things could shake her jaded mind, now. She fell asleep soon after, exhaustion finally making way for slumber.
The next day, she would awake to a jolly mabari's horrible breath and loud barking. She would squint her eyes and struggle to focus before she would see him hopping about her, wagging his stubby tail to and fro. She chuckled lightly and rose to her feet, straightening out the finery she wore, and arching her back to hear a few pops. Sleeping on the ground was not as good an idea as one would think. She petted her dog and sauntered off to the kitchen with him hot on her heels. He had been her savior from yet another sleepless night, which warranted a treat. She got his favorite: a double-baked mabari crunch with a nice addition of a slice of dried meat. She considered that would occupy him for a few moments. She left them in his engraved bowl, and soon he would lose attention from his beloved owner, to dedicate himself to the consumption of his well-deserved treat.
Marian glanced at the various plates and padding that lay scattered about the mats in the foyer. She had returned long after Bodahn had went to sleep and she had dispensed of them there. She sighed simply, she wouldn t bother. Today she was not going to adventure. She made her way toward the former viscount s gardens. Off-limits as they still were, with even more guards, now that Meredith had tightened her defenses even further. Still, they would move aside, she knew. She was the Champion, after all. As she expected the guards bowed and spoke their praise, then stepped away. She smiled at them and passed through and was met with the sound of birds chirping cheerfully from the treetops. The garden was well-taken care of, even after Dumar's death. Her mind was drawn to the tragedy of Marlowe, grieving father and bearer of a heavy crown, of how his son was slain. She shook her head, she didn t want to think on it as her mind was strained enough with her own problems. She simply found a patch of grass, under an old oak and simply laid down. She closed her eyes and simply listened to the birds song. She hummed along to their cheerful tune, her voice untrained, but just as gentle.
She simply added to the melody and found herself smiling contentedly, even happily as she slowly opened her eyes. The bushes shuffled close by "Curious...", she thought as she turned her head to see the noisy bush. It made a decent attempt at staying still, but the constant shuffling and the quiet, frantic murmurs emanating from the shrub gave it an air of suspiciousness that simply could not be overlooked.
The Champion slowly rose to her feet again and with measured steps, she approached the twitchy shrub. Not two steps away, with a gasp and a tumble, an elf would pop out of the shrub at her feet. It was a familiar elf, even though the familiarity was covered in leafy circlets adorned with flowers and matching bracelets and many other naturistic jewelry, she could not mistake the intricate tattoos that swirled over the elf s visage, nor could she ever mistake those eyes. Large, green eyes that looked as if they have nothing but compassion for the world. The elf was blushing, and had stood up half-way onto her hands and knees.
"Merrill..?" Marian started and blinked a few times, pondering how to continue. "Fancy meeting you here." She smiled, something that came easily to her with this particular elf around.
"Um...Hawke!" the elf stumbled and quickly got all the way back up, brushing herself off and shuffling her feet, appearing quite bashful. "I was just passing through on my way back home and I just wanted to see these gardens again, even though Aveline told me not to, but I really like it here so I just had to come by and...oh, sorry, I'm doing it again, aren t I?" Merrill would chuckle sheepishly as she babbled for a moment, something Marian found even more endearing than usual.
"That s fine...though I would like to know why you where in the bushes. Spying on me now? I wonder who paid you to do so.." Marian tapped her chin in mock-pondering, though she couldn't help but smirk to herself somewhat.
Merrill on the other hand started waving her arms about."No, no! I would never spy on you!"she stammered then blushed for a moment as it occurred to her that her friend was jesting yet again. "Well not because someone paid me for it, anyway."The blush on her cheeks would redden for a moment, adding to her bashful appearance.
Marian laughed then, a contented laughter that was heard on rarer and rarer occasions recently."Oh, Merrill." She said simply with warmth in her voice "Well, the guards let me in here, though I am certain they had their heads bowed close enough to the ground to see only one pair of feet. And those had shoes on." She mused and simply let her eyes roam over Merrill s face, which became more and more red with every moment.
"Is...is there something on my face?" she raised a slender hand up to her face, touching her cheek. She was surprised by the warmth she felt there, the light-hearted chuckle she earned from her friend just made it a touch warmer still.
"No, no, you silly girl." Marian began with a playful tone, though her voice grew less jovial as she continued. "Say, Merrill how about you come over to the estate? We could just have a drink, or a bite to eat, if you like. I could use the company, with all that's happened lately..." she found herself allowing the sadness in her voice be heard "It's been terribly quiet there." Her eyes had fallen downcast, but she soon felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a soothing voice replying:
"Sure, Hawke let's go."It came and the weary Champion would look up to see the warm smile of her friend greeting her. It seemed to be contagious as she soon felt herself smiling as well.
Neither of them realized they had simply been standing like that for a few minutes, though the call of a guard and his heavy footsteps approaching broke their concentration. They both looked to the side at the marching man, and he did not look too pleased.
"Messere, is this pleb bothering you? I thank you for finding this street-rat, at your leave I will have her thrown into the brig!" he stated, standing to attention before the Champion.
Marian did not know just why his statement had sparked that much aggression within her, but for some reason, she felt the need to settle this with less grace. "Listen carefully, soldier." she started, taking a step toward him and turning to face him fully, she leaned forward somewhat and the sunlight fell on her face between the branches of the nearby trees, illuminating the scar over her nose. "Should you ever feel the need to call one of my friends a pleb or a street-rat again, I advise you strongly to pray to whatever god you can dream up that I'm not in the mood for cutting out your squishy bits and feeding them to my hound." She snarled at the man taking a challenging step toward him, she even surprised herself it even worried her how certain she sounded of her own words. "Is that clear?"
The soldier's eyes where wide-open and full of shock, he stuttered and fumbled for words and simply muttered out a "yes" , soon after turning about and hurrying back to his post. Marian rubbed her forehead in frustration and the elf looked no-less convinced than the guardsman for a short instant, long enough, however which sadly did nothing to soften the frown forming on Marian s lips.
"That that was...Hawke, I didn't know you could sound so scary." She murmured, her head tilted to one side and looking incredulously at the Champion.
The weariness and hurt crept their way into Marian's face and she simply began walking forth, making a gesture for Merrill to follow with her hand and slowly made her way. The slightly confused Merrill followed close behind, countless questions in her mind, not daring to break the odd silence that accompanied them all the way through the street, past the corridors and halls and into the kitchen of the Amell estate. There , the Champion swiftly found a bottle of old wine and pressed her thumb onto the cork stopper, forcing it down into the wine with a few swift pushes. She took a generous swig, sighing softly and holding out the bottle to Merrill. The elf slowly took it, looking at her rather flatly all the time, whilst slowly tipping the bottle back, though the question that followed almost sent the wine back into the bottle and onto the floor:
"Merrill, are you afraid of me?"
And what may follow? Who can say, though my muse may choose not to be predictable this time.