I lean against a post as the vessel sways in rhythm with the waves.
Across from me, Carver sharpens his greatsword. I watch for a few moments. His brow is furrowed, his eyes focused, thoroughly absorbed in the task. He abruptly looks up and his eyes meet mine. Our mother's hazel Amell eyes. The grinding noise of stone against steel pauses.
Maker only knows what he's thinking. I've never been adept at reading my younger brother's thoughts.
I don't know if he blames me for all that's happened. Vaguely, I wonder if he despises me for pushing him into the Wardens. If he trusts me in any capacity.
I focus on my hands in front of me, running my fingers over the runes embedded in the staff that once belonged to Father.
Carver continues to sharpen his blade, the scraping sounds slow and deliberate. I gaze off into the fog, feeling a light spray of mist on my face.
To my left, Jory growls and twitches as he sleeps, probably dreaming of chasing darkspawn and biting Lowtown criminals. I reach out to scratch him behind the ears. He gives a soft bark of approval in his sleep.
"I'm going to be sick," Bethany abruptly announces from my right, closing her eyes tight and frowning. Carver's head jerks up at the sound of her voice. It's just like the trip to Kirkwall all over again: Bethany getting sick over the ledge of the boat, Carver and Mother pretending not to feel the same in an attempt to make her feel less ill. I don't envy her the seasickness.
"Hate to break up the little family reunion, but we're about to pull into port," Isabela announces, appearing from the front deck.
"We shouldn't be seen," Carver agrees, standing up and then reaching out to help Bethany up. He's grown even more protective of our younger sister since we left Kirkwall, the least of it being the threatening glares he shoots any of Isabela's crewmen who eye our sister too long to be considered polite.
I leave Jory on deck to continue his nap and stand to follow my siblings. I pause when I reach the stairs leading below deck.
"Isabela," I start, turning back to her. "I should say thank you. For everything."
"Don't get mushy on me, Hawke," she waves my words away good-heartedly, crossing her arms with a smile.
"I mean it," I insist. "I've asked you to risk a lot for me over the years-"
"And you killed both Castillon and the Arishok to protect me. We're even," she retorts with finality. "I know Varric says it's not a good story unless the hero dies, but I'd rather not see your head on a pike, so..."
I smile in response and head below deck as she starts shouting commands to her crew.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Here I thought the broody mage act would stop once you moved in with Hawke," Varric goads, refilling his tankard. "Have you been taking lessons from Fenris?"
"Don't. Not now, Varric," Anders replies, stony-faced and glum. They're both unaware of my presence as I linger in the doorway of Varric's suite.
"Loosen up, Blondie. Let me buy you a pint; maybe you'll even remember how to have fun."
"No, I don't think so."
"Is Justice being a wet blanket again?" Varric continues to prod.
"I'd prefer you not speak of him. Not tonight."
"Have it your way, Blondie." I sigh inwardly as Varric finally looks up to see me at the door.
"Hawke!" he greets, throwing his arms up. "You've got to hear the latest rumors..."
I settle into the seat next to Anders. He gives me a small smile but won't make eye contact with me for more than a few seconds. Varric sends me pointed glances but continues to chatter to cover up the fact that he can sense something is off between the two of us tonight. He shoots me pointed looks more than a few times. I can only shrug at him helplessly.
Soon enough, Merrill wanders in, followed by Isabela, who brings a fresh round of pints.
Aveline and Donnic appear when we're well into a heated round of Wicked Grace, and everyone stops to congratulate them on the fact that they've just found out they're expecting.
"Have you thought of many names?" Merrill questions brightly. She appears to be finally overcoming the death of the Keeper after dwelling on it for so long.
"How about 'Marigold?'" Isabela suggests innocently, and I have to laugh.
"Only if you're the godmother," Aveline retorts. Isabela snorts into her cup.
"Maker, how awkward would that be? Could you imagine me around your children? All the new words they'd learn... 'Mummy, what's a slattern?'" she laughs.
"Then I'll just point at you and say, 'that's a slattern.'"
"Touche, big girl," Isabela nods approvingly, raising her tankard in Aveline's direction. Aveline smiles and Donnic drinks in her stead, one arm wrapped around her waist.
Fenris only shows up after I've expected him not to.
I feel strangely overwhelmed when we all get up to leave. It's been the most relaxed night we've had in a long time. Fenris and Anders haven't begun their tiresome argument of mages, neither of them condemn Merrill for her previous use of blood magic, and I get a fleeting sense of premonition when I think of the fact that this could be the last time we all get together in such a pleasant manner.
"You've been awfully quiet," I observe, as Anders and I walk back to the estate.
"Yes." He distractedly glances around the dark Hightown streets. I don't pry.
I only look at him as he shrugs off his coat and I shut and lock the door behind us. When he meets my eyes, I kiss him.
"Taea," he stops me, placing his hands on my shoulders. It's then that I notice how weary he truly looks.
"Bodahn and Sandal are gone, remember?" I assure him, leaning up to press my lips against his neck softly. They left for Orlais just this morning. His hands run down my arms and to my waist, pulling me against him while he rests his forehead against mine.
"That's not what I meant," he says, and I finally hear a hint of amusement in his voice. I pull back to grin at him.
"It's hard to know what you mean when you hide up there in your head," I retort, some seriousness behind my teasing tone.
"Sometimes...I believe Justice has forced me to bear much more than I can handle. I don't want to crumble under the burden. I don't want you to have to watch me break from it," he admits.
"Let me share it, then," I try to coax him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. He smiles softly, brushing a thumb over my cheek before leaning down to press his lips to mine.
"Sometimes, you're the only one who can keep him at bay. I don't want to lose you, Hawke. But I fear the day will come sooner than we hope."
"You're not making any sense," I frown. He only shakes his head.
"I'd give anything for us to go far from this place and never look back."
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"You're the one that should be getting courted, not me," Mother smiles as I begin to dress myself.
"Somehow, I doubt any of the eligible nobles of this city would be thrilled to wed someone who can shoot ice from her hands," I shrug off her unrealistic wishes that I marry into Kirkwall elite. I realize that this might have been my life, if not for the magic. Carver would hate it. Bethany might love it. I'm unsure how I'd feel, though I'm sure I'll get a taste of it tonight.
Mother smells the flowers she's received and then leaves my room.
It stirs something in my memory, but I push it aside.
"Seneschal Bran is just about your age. As is Viscount Dumar's son..." Mother continues. I hear her setting down her white flowers in a vase near the balcony.
"I...don't think I'm his type, Mother," I reply, slipping into the turquoise gown she's chosen for me.
"Well, it's a shame you don't have an escort to the ball tonight," she calls from the other room. "What of that elf you were so fond of? I've seen the way you look at each other... Or the healer? Anders, is it?"
"Mother..." I groan back, adjusting my gown then stepping in front of the mirror to examine myself.
"He reminds me of your father, that one." I don't bother to inform her that things never quite worked out with Fenris and I don't even know where Anders and I currently stand in that sense.
"The invitation's just a courtesy, for saving Saemus a few years ago," I inform her. "I don't need an escort." And if I did, it wouldn't be my priority to bring an escaped slave or rebellious apostate traipsing around in plain view of Hightown nobles.
If Carver were here, I might have convinced him to accompany me. He would hate it. Bethany would've enjoyed dressing up, if she'd not been taken by the templars.
I step away from my reflection and out of my room.
"Oh!" Mother exclaims, when she sees me. "You look like an Amell!"
I want to correct her.
I'm a Hawke. But I keep my mouth closed to let her have the moment.
"Would that your father could see you," her eyes shine slightly with wetness. "You know, there was a ball the night your father came to ask me to run away with him."
"You never mentioned that before," I curiously remark. She smiles, remembering.
"I suppose didn't much think of Kirkwall when your father was alive." She walks up to me, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear. She kisses my forehead. "You are everything I could have hoped for in my eldest. Enjoy yourself tonight, love."
I want to tell her that it's nice she's stopped blaming me for what's happened with Carver and Bethany, but I bite my tongue.
A few months later, we find her murdered at the hands of a blood mage.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
"Taea," Father rouses me from my sleep. For a split second, I fear we'll have to run again; that someone in Lothering's found us out and that templars are on their way at this very moment. But his demeanor is calm and I relax, rubbing at my eyes and yawning. "I wanted to say goodbye before I go."
"Will you be back in time for my birthday?" I hesitantly ask, dreading an answer I don't want to hear.
"I plan to be, little bird," he fondly replies. "But I have an early gift for you."
"What is it?" I sit up with a smile.
"You'll be 18 soon, Taea. I need your word that you'll take care of your mother and Carver, and watch over Bethie especially. You are the eldest, and should something happen to me, keeping them safe must always be your priority," he says, turning uncharacteristically solemn while he speaks.
"Of course, Father," I answer, and a smile breaks on his face before brings out a staff from behind his back and hands it to me. "It's...amazing." I run my hand over the darkly polished staff, admiring the color and surprising lack of weight. "Thank you." His cerulean eyes twinkle with a smile and I put down the staff to hug him gratefully. He kisses me on the cheek before going to rouse Mother and my siblings to bid them farewell before he leaves on another job.
It's the last time I ever see him.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-
In the captain's quarters, Isabela names ports I've never heard of in countries I've never visited.
The way she describes it, it's an odd, loping route. Just in case.
"You don't have to go through all this trouble," I argue, as she traces her finger along her map.
"Hawke," she pauses to roll her eyes at me. "Must we keep having this conversation?"
"I'll make it up to you. Somehow..." I continue, ignoring her.
"You helped me acquire this damned ship. Just think of yourselves as my guests," she says, and I sigh, finally giving up on the subject. She turns her attention back to her maps. "Anyway, they're only suggestions. I haven't decided our route for sure. Whatever keeps us away from trouble will have to suffice."
"Thank you," I reply, standing up. She glares at me good-naturedly, one hand on her hip.
"Andraste's tits, Hawke!" she exclaims, exasperated. "If you thank me one more time, I swear-"
I slip out the door with a cheeky grin before she can finish her threat.
I head down the long corridor, not surprised when no sounds but the waves striking the ship assault my ears. I pause at the farthest door.
Anders has refused to come out of his cabin since we left Kirkwall almost a week ago. I don't knock or barge in, but resolve to bring him food later.
Instead, I go to find Carver and Bethany on the main deck. I exchange a look with Carver when I find them, but I'm unsure what I'm trying to convey. We haven't told Bethany what we learned about Father. We don't want her to think less of him for it.
"Sister..." Bethany begins. "What will we do now?"
I bite my lip. I wish I knew what to tell her.
"We're going to eat dinner," I inform her, grinning, though it falters when she looks away.
"Sister..." she huffs in exasperation. Carver says nothing.
We join Merrill at a table. She lights up when my brother chooses the seat next to her, but he's too thick to notice.
Fenris is nowhere to be found.
I study my younger siblings as we eat a mostly quiet meal with Merrill.
I was too late to save Mother, but I still have Carver and Bethany.
I rub at my forehead, willing away a building migraine.
For the first time in my life, I don't know how in the world I'm supposed to keep them safe.