I have to admit, I liked Brennan's convenience as a character. As small of a role as she had in the game, her presence always seemed to be convenient in helping Hawke and Aveline do missions amongst the guard. It seemed only fitting that she be overly helpful in this story too.
Also, I feel the need to say that last chapter was exceptionally shorter then I had originally drawn it up to be. But after adding the modifications to it—as well as taking away a few things—I felt it right to end it where I had. Originally the first third of this chapter was supposed to the end of the last. I wonder which would've been more devious…
And I feel I must also apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter up and running. The holidays were unusually busy for me.
.-.-.-.
Chapter Two.
Hawke looked between Fenris and Brennan, unsure of what to do. There wasn't any telling if they were still wanted in the Free Marches, and Brennan openly saying Fenris's name like that had immediately put all of them at risk—noise mishap aside. But as Brennan hesitantly stepped forward to get a better look at the elf, the growing smile on her face made her intentions a little more clear.
"I thought it may have been you," Brennan said with a grin. "It's been some time hasn't it?"
Fenris hesitated, unsure of what to say. "It… certainly has," he tried, awkwardly. "I see you're a guard here now."
Brennan just beamed, "I am! After the fall of Kirkwall, there wasn't any guard left. Then word came from Starkhaven saying that they were taking refugees. So my family and I packed up and came here."
Ignorance was truly bliss.
The sleepy guard stepped forward now too though, his weapon still clenched in his hand. "Oi, Brennan! You know this elf?"
"Yeah, he's a refugee like us," Brennan started, gesturing between the two, "This is my partner, Complan. He's a bit lazy, but a good patrolman."
"As good as any patrolman that sleeps on the job," Fenris retorted. There was impatience to his voice that was clear to Hawke. And rightfully so, she thought as another cough came from their pack.
"Just keep your comments to yourself, elf," Complan said harshly. "And be on your way, there's nothing for you and your kin here."
Fenris bowed and went to leave but Brennan stopped him again.
"Wait—This elf is no danger, Complan, we can let him through."
"No danger!?" Complan roared, "Look at the weapon he carries, Brennan! How is that no danger!" At this point Hawke was already to her feet, packs at the ready to leave. She would rather spend another night outside in the cold then sit here waiting through someone else's debate.
"But—"
"No but's, Brennan! Guard-Captain Aveline's orders: No one through after nightfall!"
Fenris and Hawke both froze.
Guard-Captain Aveline.
Fenris stared into the shadow where Hawke was hiding, his face in just as much shock as hers. Their eyes locked and silent words of disbelief and happiness were exchanged as they both let the news sink in. Aveline and Donnic were here! Three of their friends were here in Starkhaven, not one. Perhaps their luck was changing after all; perhaps the Maker was really looking after them.
Or perhaps it is a trap, Fenris's eyes hardened—he was thinking the same thing. A creative way to get Hawke out in the open, to get her captured; only one way to find out.
Fenris turned then to face the guards, "Aveline is here?"
Brennan shrugged, as if he should have known better, "Well yeah, it's why you came isn't it?"
Complan took a harsh step forward, his weapon drawn, "I said your business is done here elf!"
Fenris ignored him, "Wait—why would it be the reason why I came?"
"Well because the Captains lost their baby. The funeral is tomorrow."
Hawke's heart stopped dead in her chest. How often had she heard her friends speak of settling down with children of their own? Hawke didn't know, but she remembered that Aveline and Donnic had been trying for one even before Kirkwall was destroyed. Now things were starting to make sense as to why the city was in lock down. The death of Aveline and Donnic's—the Guard-Captains of Starkhaven—child would be like that of a noble in this city. Especially with Sebastian, the Prince, being such a close friend.
A sudden sense of selfishness came over Hawke as she thought of their original reason of coming to this city: to seek aid from their friends in a time they so desperately needed it most. Now, it seemed, the positions were reversed. The Maker hadn't brought them here to receive help, but to give it. To be there for her friends like she used too, all her problems put aside.
But could she put this issue aside?
Hawke looked to their largest pack, knowing all too well what slept beneath that top flap; wrapped up like a wound to protect from harm and avoid detection.
Fenris began speaking again but Hawke was too lost in thought to really hear. Perhaps he was giving condolences, or perhaps he was correcting his reasons for coming, Hawke didn't know—Hawke didn't care. All she could do was stare down at that pack, her mind wandering to its darkest reaches, plucking out all the horrific things that could've happened to cause this death—no—this tragedy to befall her friends. How? What? Who? The thoughts went rushing by, from the most horrific to the simplest accidents; she felt her mind begin to swim from all the questions. And then, hidden amongst them, was a one that ran her blood cold.
What would Aveline do if she were in Hawke's position?
Hawke looked out into the clearing ahead. Fenris was speaking softly to Brennan, who was being dragged back and forth between him and Complan in conversation. Suddenly, Complan threw down his weapon and stormed up to Fenris, pointing a finger in his face and shouting something threatening and offensive at him. Brennan shoved Complan to the side as Fenris's voice hardened, the lyrium on his arms beginning to glow faintly.
Hawke took a long, deep breath in before standing up strong and tall. She let down her long hair—a suggestion by Isabela long ago to help with disguise—and raised her hood, the cloak hiding her body from notice as it had so many times before. Then took a step forward, away from their small hiding place and out into the clearing. Shadows befell her face as the moon lit up her figure. She walked forward, no longer fearful of being known or caught. Brennan was the first to notice her, and then Complan, his shouting stopped midsentence at Fenris. And then finally Fenris, the elf whom had given her new purpose and meaning in life—the father of their child—turned to meet her gaze.
She smiled at him, but his face was still just as hard as before. His hand went strait to the hilt of his sword as Complan said angrily, "This wench the kin you speak of elf?" Hawke reached out to take his other hand, and though his lyrium stopped it's glow, his hand still stayed at the ready.
Fenris swallowed hard, resisting the urge to say her name, "What're you—" he started softly, but she interrupted him.
"Brennan," Hawke began, "If you could send our condolences to the Captains for me, I would be grateful."
Brennan stammered, "Uh—uhm sure, Messare, but who—"
"Just tell her an old friend is very sorry for her loss. And hopes the best for her and her family," Hawke replied strongly.
Brennan just gaped, unsure of what to say or do. She nodded after a moment and said, "Of course, Messare."
Hawke turned to Complan then, "I am sorry to have troubled you, guardsman. My kin and I will leave you to your duty now," she tugged Fenris's hand, "Come on, Fenris. Let us be off."
"But Haw—" She just shook her head. He lowered his hand from his blade and laced his fingers with hers with the other. "If you wish."
Something about Hawke caught Brennan's eye then, and she called out the pair as they disappeared back into the shadows. But Hawke just ignored her. Sure that if Brennan had figured it out, Aveline would at least know that they were there for her even if they couldn't be right there.
As they walked back into their little hide away, Fenris went to take on the large pack once more but Hawke stopped him. Silently, she reached inside and took out their child—a small baby girl with frosty white hair, a pudgy human face, and little pointed ears—and cradled her in her arms. Fenris shuttered, drawing in a breath sharply but Hawke paid him no mind, just kissed the sleeping babe on the forehead and started walking again. Fenris, taking on the now empty pack, followed on behind her. There was no speaking between Hawke and Fenris in that moment or even in the next hour beyond that. They just simply walked right back up the path in which they had come from.
Quiet and unthinking, Hawke didn't stop until the sun started to rise in the east, bringing light to the dull world around them. Not until her feet began to ache and her eyes became weary and tired from the exhaustion of their trek. When at last they stopped, Hawke all but collapsed onto the ground, Fenris taking the babe into his arms in her stead. He set the child down in her swaths of blankets in the pack before replacing her with Hawke, cradling her and tangling his fingers in her long black hair.
And at last, Hawke allowed herself to break free from her blank state, and all the emotions came rushing back to her again: sorrow, depression, hurt, all of the worst of the many that can be found in a being. And she cried—oh did Hawke cry, burying her face deep into the crevice of Fenri's neck.
"She—lost—her baby," Hawke hiccupped in between sobs. "How could—we—ask for help—at a time like this?"
Fenris just shushed her by tucking her face into his neck once more. But Hawke kept on with her murmurs and sobs, hiccupping all the while.
"What—if it had been—Ava," she continued. Fenris went rigid, which only made her cry more. I could never ask such a thing from Aveline, she continued in her head, though she had meant to say it aloud. How selfish it would be of me to ask for help with my child when hers' just died.
But you will eventually have to seek aid, a voice reminded her. And she would. Hawke and Fenris couldn't remain on the run with their daughter much longer. The cold weather and travel was starting to make the child sick. And though little Ava's sleeping was finally on somewhat of a schedule—being a year old now and all—it was wearing them thin. So much so that more than once they had been caught unawares by bandits and slavers. Yes, they would eventually have to seek out help. But now it was no longer from whom but when.
They had people at their disposal, friends nearby, even motive. But now—they couldn't ask for help now. Hawke didn't know if they ever could. At least not from Aveline and Donnic.
Little Ava woke then, fussing and whining, as babies do when they get up for the day. Hawke started to rise to go get her but Fenris gently pressed her back down. He leaned her down onto the ground, his cloak wrapped up into a makeshift pillow for her head. Then he walked away from her sight to the little girl's aid.
As Hawke lay there, sobbing and broken on the ground, she let her mind go blank again. Exhausted from the night's events and trials she knew were ahead of her, Hawke closed her eyes. Allowing herself a few moments peace as she breathed deeply, listening to the world around her. And slowly, peacefully, she fell asleep; one final word—a name—left quivering on her lips:
"Avannriel."
.-.-.-.
The window revealed sights Aveline had hoped to never have to see in her lifetime. Black flags bearing the Vallen family crest hung from just about every doorstep in the city. Setting a path through Starkhaven for the procession to follow as it made its way up to the Chantry. People walked by her house in threads of black and gold, some bearing flowers and others gifts, all in honor of her stillborn son. Many were people she didn't even know, and most only knew her as the Captain of the Guard, but all seemed genuine in their condolences to her and Donnic. However, Aveline would gladly return every gift, flower, and every other worldly possession she owned to not have to live through this day.
True, Aveline had no regrets about bearing Donnic's child for 9 months. She did not blame him or herself for birthing it stillborn. And though she wished she had had the chance to get to know their son, she had been happy at least that he had died without feeling any pain. But it had still broken Aveline's heart to hold that dead infant in her arms for the first and last time. And now it was going to have to break all over again as she lead his body to greet the Maker once more.
Aveline sighed and turned away from the window. There were several hours still to come before the procession would begin, and she still had to get prepared. Donning her housecoat, she started to make her way towards the door.
It opened before she could reach it, however, and their head servant, Naniel, stood patiently in the doorway.
"You've being called on, my lady, to receive one of your guardsman at the door," he said with a slight nod of the head. Naniel was an older, surlier elf with graying brown hair and a drive for order. He had proven to be quite particular about how their home was kept, always yelling at their other two servants about moving things out of place, but had always shown the upmost respect to Donnic and herself. Something Aveline quite admired about the old elf, though she could do without the constant grumpiness.
"Thank you, Naniel, I'll go to them now," Aveline said before shooing him off. Naniel bowed and respectfully moved out of her way, shutting the door behind her as she went for the stairs.
She passed one of their other servants—a young woman named Carla—on her way and smiled politely at the girl, who shyly smiled back. Aveline had always tried to be as polite as possible to her servants, showing them the respect they deserved for keeping her large house so clean. And yet she couldn't help but still feel awkward when she was around them, having never had servants before in her life, much less a house big enough to need them. In fact, she had always thought it kind of strange whenever she had would visit Hawke even, to see servants ready to wait on them. And it was no different now that she had some of her own. Of course, Hawke had always seemed to handle it a little better, telling her servants to take days off, or go run errands for themselves once things were done. That would be considered sacrilege in this city, however, so Aveline would have to just suffer silently at their consistent need to heed her every whim.
When Aveline reached the foot of the stairs, the guardsman Naniel had spoken of turned to greet her.
"Guardsman Complan, here to give the nights report, Captain," he bowed before handing two scrolls her way. Aveline took them graciously.
"Thank you guardsman. All was quiet on your patrol, I presume?" Aveline asked absent-mindedly as she tucked the first scroll under her arm. She began walking to her study as she opened the other; guardsman Complan respectfully followed.
Complan hesitated in his answer, "There was a… minor incident early this morning at the gate, but other then that a very uneventful night, Captain."
"Mmm," Aveline replied as she continued to read the reports. She glanced up briefly as she sat down at her desk and asked, "Where's guardsman Brennan?"
"Still at the barracks speaking to Captain Donnic," Complan paused, "May I report something, Captain? About Brennan, I mean."
Aveline looked up, "Go ahead."
"Well," he started, "I'm afraid Brennan may not be suitable for night patrol anymore, Captain. Almost let complete strangers into the city last night; went directly against your orders."
Aveline raised an eyebrow, "Well its not unusual for tradesmen to arrive during the early hours, guardsman. What's this about?"
"I put it all in the report, Captain: these travelers were no tradesmen, I assure you."
Aveline started to skim through the first scroll until she found Complan's report. It was extensive, as always, with details added in that didn't need to be reported such as what time the merchants were done closing up shop and where the latest "suspicious noise" was coming from. At last, though, she made it to the part about this incident he had mentioned. She began to quote aloud: "'At early morning we were startled by the sound of strange coughing coming from the shadows,"—Aveline paused to look up at Complan disapprovingly—,"'before an elf emerged heavily armed. He claimed to seek safe passage into the city but became hostile when it was denied. Guardsman Brennan tried to treat the stranger with familiarity, claiming he was a refuge from Kirkwall, and then proceeded to disobey direct orders by allowing the elf passage into the city. I respectfully intervened and manage to keep the situation from turning into an unnecessary battle when the elf's kin approached, also heavily armed. I could not see her face but the daggers at her sides were clearly visible—," Aveline stopped and sighed, knowing without finishing that it was heavily exaggerated. She would just have to get the real report from Brennan. Oh Complan, Aveline thought as she pinched the bridge of her nose. After a moment's pause she finished sarcastically with a 'thank you' for his report.
Guardsman Complan just beamed, straitening up and folding his hands behind his back. "My pleasure, Captain. But, aren't you going to finish it? I think that elf may have been—," but Aveline just raised a hand.
"Thank you, guardsman, but I will look into the matter myself. Report back to the barracks before you head home."
"But what about Brennan—?"
"To the barracks," Aveline pointed, what little patience she had left, now gone.
Complan hesitated, but soon bowed, leaving the study a little less proud.
Once he was gone, Aveline proceeded to search through the rest of the scroll for Brennan's report. It, like most of the others, was brief and strait to the point. Only hers seemed to be unusually short, with only a few words scrawled on to the page. Report to be given in person was all it said. Aveline just slumped back into her chair. Of course it does, she thought as she began to open the second scroll. A list of patrols to be made and complaints to be looked into was on this one.
It was a significantly thicker than the other scroll, but this was always to be expected in a city such as Starkhaven. Usually the complaints were nothing to be concerned with, just nobles and merchants bickering about one another, but every so often there would be something of worth to really look into. Aveline would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it though. As much work as it all was, she felt she was begining to thrive in Starkhaven, in some ways more than Kirkwall, though she did miss how things were before. It helped to have Donnic as the second Captain, though—with a city this large, two had been required—partially because it made dealing the many complaints easier, but mainly because she was able to work so closely with him.
Aveline smiled as she leaned over her desk, glad she was able to throw herself into her work; to indulge her mind into something that made her happy, at least for a little while today. She knew all to well that such things wouldn't get done after the funeral, so best it be done now while it still could. The many citizens meant well with their condolences, but they weren't about to put their own lives on hold for one person.
So she got to work, skimming through the complaints, marking out those that weren't in her jurisdiction to deal with and circling the ones that were. She added notes here and there on who would be appropriate to handle which complaint before continuing on down the line to cross out and circle the rest. It was extensive work, and a little frustrating when the same thing was reported several times over, but she pushed through it all the same. Things seemed to be pretty in check though, all things considered. Truthfully there wasn't too much on the list that seemed unusual—though the Chantry was starting to pop up a little more than normal—which only helped Aveline to get through it faster. And after just an hour of work she was done with that section. So Aveline decided to move onto the next matter of business, which was setting up the roster for next week. This was something that would have to be changed periodically throughout the week, so she was sure to leave enough room for error as she drew it up. Aveline was diligent with it, making sure to check her mail pile for letters from her guardsmen requesting time off and taking it into consideration for schedule. She even took out her map of Starkhaven to make sure she was writing down the right areas for her guardsmen, making sure that she had everything that she wanted for the week set just right for Donnic to approve later that night. But all to soon Aveline was done with that too, leaving her with only letters to answer now. Since this was something that would only increase through out the day, she felt it necessary to look through all of them—if only to just keep herself busy for a little while longer.
She started as she always had, sorting them into the piles of who they were from first, and then into what class of citizen from there. It went by rather smoothly until she came across a thick envelope with just her name scrawled neatly across the front. Aveline blinked and flipped it over, her interest only becoming more piqued as she looked at the signet pressed into the wax. It was the Tethras family crest; an unusual thing for Varric to be writing to her out of the blue like this.
Aveline proceeded to open the letter. Two pages were enclosed in the small envelope, the paper folded far too many times just to accommodate its size. When at last she was able to unfold them, it seemed as though Varric had just ripped the paper right out from one of his books, it was so thick and expensive. The jagged tears down the sides only proved this theory as Aveline examined it more closely. Varric must've been in a hurry to write if he just ripped it out of his book, Aveline thought as she looked over the two pages. A hole was in the middle of the second page, which was more of an illustration than a letter, almost as if someone had stabbed it with a knife.
Something seemed off about the illustration though, something far too familiar about the six heads that were drawn in a circle around a red hexagon, and far too accurate about the faces on the page, especially the read-haired maiden with a band about her head. Aveline gasped then as she realized this was an illustration of her and her friends from Kirkwall. Varric, Merril, Isabela, Fenris, and Anders, all were there, including her. Everyone, except Hawke.
Aveline immediately turned to the letter, reading through it quickly in hopes of an explanation for this illustration of them, and why, above all else, it had them listed as the clear companions of the Champion of Kirkwall. Ice ran through her veins as the words "accomplice" and "Seeker" flew across her view as she read. And felt her heart begin to race as she read through it again; hoping that what she saw wasn't truly the case. But the reality was clearly there, scrawled neatly on the page like a fancy death warrant to their happy, simple lives here in Starkhaven.
Naniel appeared then, knocking on the open door politely as he usually did, and causing Aveline to jump by doing so. He waited patiently as she pulled herself together. "Master Donnic is here," he said with a bow before ghosting away.
Aveline swallowed hard as she stared back down at the letter on the desk. This news could not have come at a worse time for her—something Varric had politely apologized for in the beginning of it—and she found herself wondering if she should even tell Donnic about it because of the timing. She quickly decided against doing so and tucked the letter away in top drawer of her desk. No, this would be something she would look into herself and, like with the complaints earlier, set her most trust worthy guards to the task of looking out for this Seeker. Perhaps there is still a chance of this being handled civilly, she thought as she looked to the doorway. But regardless of how it was handled, it would still have to be dealt with all the same. But not today, she concluded.
Aveline straitened herself then, doing her best the wipe the worry off her face as she made for the door. She could not allow Donnic to know of this, not today at least. Today was reserved for them, and even she should be doing her best to focus on that. But despite the smile she gave her husband when she saw him the news still weighed heavily on her mind.
"Surely that isn't what you're wearing," Donnic said, half jokingly to lighten the mood.
But Aveline almost didn't hear him. "Oh, no don't be silly, Donnic. I've just been a little busy with work is all; just about to head up to get ready," she lied with a smile. Donnic, however, was no fool, and knew right away that something was wrong. But when he took Aveline's face into his hand, she knew it was for all the wrong reasons that he was worried about her. His comfort was welcome all the same though.
"I know you're upset about today, my dear, but it'll be over before we know it," Donnic said before giving her a quick kiss. "And I'll be right there with you through out all of it."
Aveline just smiled—much more genuinely now—at him. Indeed this was going to be much easier with Donnic there beside her. She cupped his cheek in her hand as well and murmured a 'thank you' to him. And as she made her way upstairs with him the weight on her heart began to take to the form that it had when she'd first got up this morning. Yes, today was just about them, no matter how much hurt was to come with that. And everything else was just going to have to wait.
.-.-.-.
Again sorry for the delay, but I would like to leave a parting note saying that chapters will now be posted on a (relatively) weekly basis. Hope you enjoyed.