A/N: From this point on, it's going to be two Hawkes going on different missions. I think I want to play with the idea that all of Marian's friends are Garrett's rivals and vice versa, though that might be easier said than done. This picks up at year one as they meet companions. Because there were four Hawke kids, Carver and Marian went with Meeran while Garrett and Bethany went with Athenril.
If you are inclined to review, go ahead and cast your vote on which twin- Garrett or Marian- will be known as Hawke, and which one will be the Champion. Suggestions for a nickname for whichever one doesn't end up being Hawke are also welcome. I'm trying so hard to avoid having them be Hawke and Hawkette, even though it makes sense. Faugh on sense.
Garrett can't claim he likes the smell of the Hanged Man, all stale sweat and skunked beer, but he's smelled worse in college dorms and Gamlen's house. He and his siblings hadn't noticed it while they worked their way into the city, because he and Bethany were out all hours of the night with Athenril's smugglers, while Marian and Carver disappeared on long missions with the Red Iron for days on end.
Without steady employment, though, they find themselves stuck either at Gamlen's or the Hanged Man when they aren't out hunting for work. All four of them prefer the Hanged Man to their uncle's company or the festering stench of his home.
"I can't stand this," Carver groans beside him. Garrett shifts his dull eyes toward his younger brother, waiting to decide if he wants to strangle him until the teenager finishes speaking. "We can't afford enough drinks to make it tolerable here, and we can't find work enough to keep us out of here."
"It's a fucking paradox," Marian mutters from across the small table, blowing her dark bangs out of her eyes. She slumps with her forearms on the tabletop and her chin resting on them. After a year of blowing men up for money her cynical sense of humor has sharpened, concealing her more sensitive, empathic nature. If Carver hadn't told him about her vomiting after every job Garrett would believe the past year in this reality has left nothing of his sister but a raw, raucous joke.
Bethany glances at Marian and sighs, fiddling with the hem of her dress. At least one of his sisters doesn't pound cheap ale and pretend to be a medieval mercenary. Absent brown eyes gaze into her mug, more than half-full, and Beth twists the fabric without looking at it as Garrett watches his sisters, sitting side-by-side.
During their year of working with Athenril, Garrett's learned to like his new sister: her love of nature and poetry and pretty things, her ability to sew and even to weave a bit of magic into things like his gauntlets, and the way she yelped and backed away from a horse the first time she saw one but laughed as she did so. He often finds himself wishing he remembered the things Bethany talked about, like how a village boy stole one of her hair ribbons and Garrett beat him up and then forgot to bring the ribbon back, or how the girls used to sneak into his and Carver's room late at night so the elder twins could alternate between ghost stories and epic adventure tales with funny voices and magical effects courtesy of Marian's budding powers. She also has plenty of information regarding the apostate status that forced their family to run for years and remain hidden, leaving the four Hawke siblings one another's closest friends.
"What about that dwarf in Hightown, the one hiring all that muscle for his expedition?" asks Garrett. He stares at Marian. "Wasn't he talking to Meeran about recruiting from the Red Iron?"
She snorts and shakes her head without lifting it from her arms. "Carver and I talked to him already. He was a prick."
Carver folds his arms, tips back in his chair, and puts his feet on the table. "It'd make us rich if we got on there, though," he sighs, staring around the tavern as if inspiration will strike him.
Like Garrett and Bethany, Carver and Marian bonded over their year working as mercenaries, but theirs is a bond of humor that borders on morbid at times. Sometimes, watching them, he feels a sting of memory for the times he and Marian mortified their aunts by having serious discussions about the likelihood of an apocalyptic event at Thanksgiving dinner, or traded deadpan insults until their mother thought the fight was real. Now she and Carver joke about how men shit themselves before getting run through by a sword or fried with a lightning bolt.
The real world seems far away.
"Hawke!" calls a rough and rumbling voice from behind him.
Marian sits up a second before Garrett turns to see the speaker. A beardless dwarf in an open shirt with a mass of chest hair saunters toward them. Over the past year in this weird world, Garrett's seen plenty of elves and dwarves and even a few Qunari—enough that he knows a beardless dwarf is weird even here.
"Well, shit, if there aren't a whole mess of you," the dwarf chuckles. Garrett notices that he has a huge crossbow on his back and raises a brow. "Varric Tethras. I heard that you two—" he points at Marian and Carver "—talked to my brother Bartrand today. Sorry he was such an ass."
"He thinks we're not worth hiring but worth talking about, huh?" Marian grins at the dwarf and shakes the hair away from her face. She's determined to grow it out and the past year has left her with a sort of punk-rock look, like that chick from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs whose name he can't remember anymore.
"Oh, I didn't talk to him, but I know he was an ass," the dwarf waves a dismissive hand. "It's a hard job being a younger brother to someone like Bartrand," he says. "He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."
"Not that I'm not willing to try," Carver mutters. Garrett notices that his brother sits with all four chair-legs and his own feet on the floor again, his usual scowl in place.
Marian's leg sweeps by his under the table and Carver winces a second later. She smirks at the dwarf and twists to rest one arm on the back on her chair. "So you wanna hire us after all?" she says. "Grab a seat. We can buy you a beer."
"What's beer?" Varric asks, staring at her. Garrett's heart pounds at the dwarf's curious expression.
"It's her word for ale," Bethany pipes up, releasing the hem of her skirt and pushing the empty chair beside her out for the newcomer. "Marian is always coming up with clever stories and such."
"A storyteller? Be still my beating heart," grins Varric, nodding at Bethany. He glances from her to Garrett and says, "But enough small talk. I see there are more of you than just the pair in Meeran's gang." His gaze turns to Marian and Carver and his grin widens. "He hates you two, by the way, which is why I think I'll like you."
Both Carver and Marian scoff "good" at the same time, folding their arms and shaking their heads in an identical gesture.
"I'm Garrett," he says, extending a hand toward the dwarf. He's pleased to find that Varric has a strong handshake; his palms calloused with a combination of crossbow experience and vigorous writing. When his hand is released, Garrett gestures to his younger sister. "And this is Bethany. We've been working for Athenril."
"So, two Hawkes and two Hawke Juniors," laughs the dwarf, oblivious to the flush that crosses Carver's cheeks. "Tell you what, I could use all of your help. We don't need hirelings, though. We need another partner. You invest fifty sovereigns and he'll have to take you seriously."
Marian catches Garrett's eye across the table. "Holy shit," she says, turning to look at the dwarf. "Is this a pyramid scheme?"
"If we had that much money, we wouldn't really need this job," Garrett adds.
Varric smirks, eyes glinting as if he knew they would say that. "You need to think big," he says. "You invest in this expedition and you'll be set for life. Besides, we need some folks who've got some experience with Darkspawn and…ogre-killing."
Everyone stares at Marian, who drains her mug and stares into the bottom with pursed lips. Garrett and the others watch her for a long minute, until she looks up at the dwarf and says, "Supposing we were interested in investing. Any idea where we'd get that kind of cash?"
"I thought you'd never ask," he answers, leaning back in his chair and making a motion at the approaching waitress. "A buddy of mine, Anso, is looking for a hand relocating some stolen property. Meet him in the Bazaar after sundown."
"Why doesn't he just go to the guard?" Garrett asks. He can feel Carver nodding in agreement next to his shoulder.
Varric shrugs. "It's not exactly something he can ask the guard's help retrieving."
Carver snorts. "Speaking of guards, why don't we talk to Aveline? Didn't she get a job with them?"
Garrett glances at his brother. "She might have a few odd jobs for us." He looks back at the dwarf, who watches their exchange with a wary expression. "We won't interfere in your friend's shit. Just looking for work."
"I'll help your friend," Marian announces, just as the waitress returns with a new round of ale for everyone. She lifts her mug up, looking from Varric to Bethany, and says, "You wanna come with?"
"Hawke," says Aveline, pressing her lips together in a grim line when Garrett and Carver arrive at the Viscount's Keep.
It freaks Garrett out that his name hasn't changed from one reality to the next. He's not even that bothered by the fact that he's grown to accept his two extra siblings and regard them as such. That first day he was bothered when he found himself weak with relief after the dragon lady showed them to where their mother had hidden from the ogre, embracing a woman he'd never met before until she laughed that he was crushing her ribs. She has the same name and the same kindness in her eyes, and he's never doubted it's at least the alternate-reality version of his real mother.
"Everything alright?" he asks her, frowning. He hasn't seen much of her this past year, and knows she doesn't approve of his career choice, but she seems downtrodden. More than she did on the awful boat ride to Kirkwall, fresh from killing her husband before the Blight disease could get him.
Aveline sighs and shrugs, her uniform plate clanking with the motion. "Something's going on, but I don't know just what," she answers, pacing in a tight knot in front of them. Garrett and Carver exchange glances and then look back to the guardswoman. "It's all dead patrols, but the thugs have been clearing off the streets. Someone's hiring for something big."
Garrett frowns and steps closer, extending a hand to stop her from pacing. "Do you know what's going down?" he mutters, glancing around to make sure no one but his brother hears the conversation.
She has gorgeous green eyes, now focused on him with a glint of hope. "They're planning an ambush. I pushed my contacts and found out where it's set up, just near Sundermount. Probably planning to raid some merchant caravans for goods or worse, slaves," she sneers the word 'slaves' and Garrett feels a surge of relief that Kirkwallers have the same feelings about slavery that he does. "If we leave now, we can make it there before nightfall. I can show you."
"Yeah, of course," he says before he can stop himself. On some level he feels bad that he just realized she's pretty, with her red hair and the spattering of pale freckles, like a girlfriend he had in high school, but stronger and more capable. He feels worse because he stood there watching while her husband died, unable to do anything to stop it but grateful that it was the Templar and not one of his siblings.
"What about that amulet that Flemeth woman gave us?" Carver asks. Garrett turns to look at him, having almost forgotten his brother's presence. The boy smirks at him. "Forgot about it, didn't you?" he says, pulling the amulet from beneath his shirt by the chain.
"You idiot," Garrett growls. "What the hell are you thinking, wearing something a freaking witch gave you?"
Carver's eyes narrow. "Both of our sisters are witches," he snaps.
"Not like that," Garrett answers. He hears the clink of Aveline shifting beside him and bites back on the urge to smack his brother. He has no trouble regarding Carver as an annoying younger sibling, but right now things need to get taken care of. "Okay, we're gonna go break up this ambush and then camp out near the Dalish and bring the amulet by in the morning."
"I can requisition supplies," Aveline offers. "Meet me out front in twenty minutes."
Garrett pauses and looks at her considering. "Make it the city gates in forty. We need to let the girls know where we're going."
"Why not see if they'll come with us?" she asks. "We could use the help."
He shakes his head, trying to conceal how awkward the question is. "They're looking into another job," he says, unwilling to lie to Aveline but certain she won't approve of the truth.
Her green eyes narrow, but he remains silent. After a long moment she shakes her head and steps back, and Garrett drags Carver back to Lowtown to gather a change of clothes and say their goodbyes to their sisters and mother.
An hour later, Garrett walks alongside Aveline while his brother trails behind glaring and sometimes muttering about how he hates the smell of the ocean. He tries to make conversation with her, but the guardswoman has single-minded purpose and leads them onward with sure steps and a stride that borders on jogging. After a while Garrett gives up and falls in beside Carver, who rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
"Marian's going to laugh her ass off," the boy promises.
"I'm going to choke you in your sleep before you can tell her," Garrett answers.
They glare at each other for a long moment and then burst out laughing. Aveline turns around to shush them and frowns.
"We're close. There may be some stragglers before the main horde," she mutters, her finger to her lips. Garrett nods and elbows Carver, who elbows him back until the guardswoman glares daggers.
She's right, of course. They round a corner and walk straight into a group of four scouts. Garrett draws his sword, a weight he found familiar from his first moment hefting it, and angles it to slash through the two nearest men just as Aveline yells and smacks a third with her shield. Carver swings low, gutting the man on the ground, and brings his sword up just as Garrett does, both blades driving into the last of the small group.
Garrett looks around at his companions, pleased with their teamwork. Aside from some blood splattered on them, no one has suffered so much as a bruise.
"Don't get cocky," Aveline warns. "The worst is yet to come."
They encounter two more groups before the ambush. Neither of the bandit patrols manages to get word to their fellows, so Garrett feels confident in their element of surprise as they approach the main group around a rocky outcropping. He's so intent on the thugs that he doesn't notice the tripwire until his foot moves through it.
A blast of heat and force knocks him to the ground, ears ringing. He rolls out of the way of an oncoming blade and kicks his attacker's feet out, deaf. Garrett whips his sword in an arc as he stands, slashing through the bandits and searching for the others. His ears pound, an empty throb of aftershock, and his left shoulder aches where it slammed into the ground.
His pommel smacks a man behind him, staggering the thug back, and a moment later Carver stands beside him, broadsword slicing through their attackers. Garrett spots Aveline, surrounded by four men, deflecting their attacks with her shield and stabbing at them when she gets the chance. He elbows Carver and tilts his head toward the guardswoman.
Just as his brother darts off, an arrow whizzes by and thunks into the ground where Carver stood a moment before. Garrett turns to see a pair of archers and ducks the next missile, coughing as burning oil sends smoke and sand up at his feet. He sprints up the hill and slashes his blade through both. A searing pain drives through his shoulder and he whirls to see two more archers on a neighboring rise and an arrow jammed between the plates of his armor.
He shifts his blade to his right hand and swats the next arrow aside, running at the archers. Carver gets there first, a great two-handed sweep destroying both at once. Garrett sees a man step from behind the shadows of a rock—how did he fail to notice him before? He yells and waves his arms as his brother turns, grinning at him, but it's too late.
The man's daggers slash toward Carver's exposed back. Aveline dives on the last attacker shield-first, and Garrett takes a flying leap, slamming his blade down on the man's neck. He turns to his brother, who kneels on the grass, dizzy and shocked from blood loss.
"Oh, shit, Carver, shit, shit," he says, kneeling and propping the boy up in his arms. The moment Garrett touches him Carver collapses, unconscious, as if he waited until he knew he was safe to pass out.
The barb of the arrow tears at his shoulder and he ignores it, investigating the wounds on his brother's back. Thanks to Aveline, the daggers didn't penetrate any organs, but the tips scraped over both his shoulder blades when she knocked the bandit over. Garrett shudders; the deep scratches, visible in spite of the blood, indicate that the knives could have penetrated bone.
He glances at the guardswoman to see she's already found several elfroot poultices for the wounds among their supplies and the supplies of the dead men. She helps him tear Carver's shirt open and press the salved bandages against his shoulders to staunch the bleeding without uttering a word.
"We need to get him to the Dalish. They must have a healer," Garrett says, looking at her. He wipes his bloodied hands on the ground, making dirt stick to them in a thick layer. "If you can carry the packs, I'll carry him."
"Not with hands like that you won't," she answers, her voice a sharp reminder of his situation. She pulls a canteen out and pours some water on his hands, then removes the kerchief at her neck so he can scrub the grime off. Garrett attempts to smile at her but finds he can't and instead busies himself with the task of lifting Carver, who is far more solid than he expected.
"How far are they?" he asks her, once he's certain he has his brother steady in his grip. The boy is two inches shorter than he is (and Garrett loves to remind him of it) but he's too long to be cradled like a baby and his legs stick out at odd angles, jostling against Garrett's hip as he jogs.
"Not far," Aveline promises, and then she falls silent. He follows her, grateful that she doesn't speak, for the better part of an hour before they see the bright red sails of the legendary Dalish land ships over the treetops. They have to stop twice to reapply Carver's bandages and Garrett winces to think of their depleting supply of bandages. But he can't let his brother die out here.
He runs onward and nearly trips over something soft and warm that squeaks.
"Oh my!" Garrett stumbles, struggling to right himself with his brother's weight, and feels a crackling wave of force steady him. He stares at the thing he just tripped on: an elf girl, dark hair tied away from the intricate vines tattooed on her lovely face.
"Please," he says, too desperate to appreciate her beauty, "My brother's been stabbed."
Next chapter: just to be an ass, I'm following Marian and Bethany while they rescue Fenris. *cackle*