"You are the best sister I ever had," Carver slurred loudly.
"Shhh! You'll wake the whole house," Hawke whispered.
"What would I do without..." He hiccupped loudly, and the stench of whiskey exploded in Hawke's face.
It was this way nearly every night. Her brother spent his evenings with Gamlen, losing at cards and drinking, unable to make his way home on his own. He'd wax on about how wonderful Hawke was, thanking her profusely for helping him out, while leaning heavily on her smaller form as they made their way back to the estate. On the mornings he actually managed to wake up, he'd forget his gratitude of the night before, and spend the entire breakfast complaining about Hawke's association with the lower classes.
"Ouch!" Hawke yelled when Carver elbowed her in the ribs. They were attempting to negotiate their way up the stairway, their ultimate goal his bedroom.
"Sorry, sister," he replied groggily. "It's just I have this itch..."
A sliver of yellow light appeared on the carpeted floor of the upstairs landing. Hawke glanced up to see Bethany standing in the doorway of her own bedroom, a judgmental frown on her face. Yet, her sister's words sent a wave of relief flooding through Hawke.
"Need some help?" she asked. Although her tone could be called unfriendly at best, Hawke hardly cared.
"Yes, please," she replied, gratefully.
Bethany strolled out into the hallway looking as if she was prepared to attend a ball. Her long, dark hair was piled on top of her head, and the golden threads of her dressing gown glimmered in the low light as she opened the door to Carver's room. Hawke grunted under his weight, but didn't bother to complain to her sister.
Bethany never helped Hawke with the physical part of getting Carver settled for the night, but she had a valuable skill, one which Hawke lacked.
Carver was whistling off-key, as Hawke pushed her brother onto the bed and began to pull of his boots.
"Why you keep rescuing him, I'll never understand," said Bethany. Nevertheless, a soft blue light began to gather around her delicate hands as she approached the bed. There at last was the skill Hawke had been waiting for... magic. Hawke had never resented her sister for inheriting her father's gift, when she herself had not, but Bethany seemed to take inordinate pleasure in lording it over her. Hence, the current production her sister now made, as she pushed back her sleeves and wiggled her fingers, as if to make sure Hawke was properly impressed.
"If you were a drunken slob, I'd do the same for you," Hawke replied, ignoring Bethany's antics as she always did. She swung Carver's legs up, and threw a blanket over him. It was her own sweet revenge, allowing him to sleep in his sweaty, smelly clothes.
"Me?" Bethany exclaimed, and finally released a sleep spell to envelope Carver's prostrate form. His whistling abruptly stopped. "I would never!"
"No, I don't suppose you would," Hawke replied good-naturedly. Her mood had instantly improved the second Carver began to snore.
Bethany crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared down at her brother. "He needs to grow up and take responsibility. He is a Hawke, after all."
In this instance, she did agree with her sister. "It's Gamlen's influence, more than anything," Hawke said. It was a litany she repeated often, without result. No one could seem to keep her wayward uncle and her brother apart for long.
"Well, he should think of his future," Bethany replied haughtily. "With Father's influence, Carver could be Viscount someday."
Hawke couldn't stop the laughter that welled up inside of her and spilled through her lips. She clamped a hand to her mouth, afraid she'd wake her parents with the noise.
"I'm serious," Bethany pouted. "He's ruining his life."
Hawke just shook her head, afraid if she spoke, she'd start laughing again. She took her sister's arm and led her from the room. She was weary beyond measure of the stench of spirits, and couldn't get out of there fast enough.
"Thanks," Hawke managed, and pressed a quick kiss to her sister's cheek, mostly because she knew Bethany hated it when she did. She was rewarded with Bethany's weak smile and a wave of her fingers as her sister retreated back down the hallway.
Within moments, Hawke was in her own room, and released a long sigh. Sometimes she could hardly believe Bethany and Carver were twins, so opposite were their personalities. The only way they were similar were their self-important attitudes. Being a Hawke meant everything to them. Sometimes, she wished her parents had left Kirkwall when they married. Given up their wealth and privilege and raised their family on a farm, out in the country somewhere. She wondered how Bethany and Carver would have turned out, in her imaginary world.
Once she was ready for bed, and sat braiding her hair for the night, her idle thoughts turned to things other than family drama. Of their own accord, they drifted to a pair of coppery eyes, and the warmth of long fingers holding her wrist. Hawke shook her head and smiled. She was acting like a silly girl, instead of the young woman she now was. It wasn't as if she had any interest in romance at this point in her life. Her special friendship with Isabela was lots of fun, and required absolutely no commitment. Hawke liked it that way, and wouldn't change a thing.
After her third yawn, she finally set her brush on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, nestling into her soft bed. Another long sigh, and Hawke closed her eyes, drifting off into the Fade.
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Morning was Hawke's favorite time of day. Leandra and Bethany often slept late, either due to some fancy party they had attended the previous evening, or because of the "beauty sleep" each claimed they required. Carver spent the morning, and much of the afternoon asleep, recovering from the copious amounts of liquor consumed the night before. With the rest of the estate in quiet slumber, Hawke spent every morning with her father.
"Good morning, Peacekeeper," Hawke greeted him, using his official title. "Off to save the city from corruption and greed again?"
"Every day," Malcolm said with a playful sigh. He poured Hawke a cup of the morning tea he had prepared, as she sat at the table beside him. "Today's battle, I believe, is telling Meredith that her request for monthly Harrowings was denied."
Hawke nearly choked on the sip of tea she'd just consumed, and said in astonishment, "She thought that would pass?"
Malcolm nodded. "You'd be surprised what that woman asks for. Maker knows how she got the position of knight-commander to begin with."
"I bet Orsino wasn't too thrilled," Hawke commented.
Malcolm shrugged. "I wouldn't know, I didn't bother to tell him. Part of being Peacekeeper is knowing what to relay to the two of them, and what to keep to myself. This city would have degraded into war years ago, had I informed either of them what the other was considering to put in the rulebook. I'm just lucky the Viscount leaves me to deal with them."
"Dumar is an idiot," Hawke stated. "The man doesn't have a brain in his head. I think it's the thorny crown he wears."
Malcolm chuckled. "You may be right, Amber." His jovial mood shifted, and his expression turned serious. "You're up early for having come home so late."
Hawke was never very good at hiding anything from her father. While she had made every effort to sneak into the estate quietly, Malcolm always knew when she had escorted Carver home after another one of his more difficult nights. "I don't have a big day planned, not much sleep required," she said, trying to deflect a discussion of her brother.
"You consistently play the role of parent when it comes to controlling his behavior, and I apologize for that," Malcolm said solemnly.
Hawke reached out to cover his hand with hers. "It's alright Father, I don't mind, really. I mean, it's a lot more acceptable for me to be seen in Lowtown than you or Mother."
Malcolm shook his head. "It is not alright. If Gamlen were not your mother's brother, I would have banished him from this city long ago for his unruly influence over my son. This is a burden you should not have to bear."
The sadness in her father's eyes brought tears to her own. "You have enough to worry about," Hawke reminded him. "Let me worry about Carver."
"When I come home this evening, I will have a serious discussion with that boy," Malcolm said. "I grow weary of his antics, and if he doesn't straighten up soon, I will force him to get a job. He should be doing something other than his current occupation of bench warmer at the Hanged Man."
"Careful, you're insulting Varric's favorite pastime," Hawke said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.
"Indeed it is," Malcolm said, and his smile returned as he stood. "Tell him to pay me a visit this week, I may have an assignment for him. For now, there are kittens in trees, and mages in the Gallows, all needing to be saved."
Hawke escorted her father to the front door and kissed him on the cheek. "Be safe."
"You too, daughter," Malcolm said, touching the tip of her nose with his finger. "Try not to spill any blood today."
"I'll try," she said with a bright smile. The morning sunshine embraced them both as she opened the door, and she stepped out into the courtyard to watch her father head off to the Keep.
Another day had begun. Now the question was, what to do with it?
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"Oh Varric," Hawke called in a sing-song voice, as she entered the dwarf's suite at the Hanged Man. "Daddy wants to see you."
Varric was standing to the side of his table, maps sprawled out across its surface. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it," he said without looking up.
Hawke circled the table. "It's about a job," she informed him. She stopped to take a closer look at the parchments he was studying. "What are all these?"
"These, my little Rosebud, are maps into the Deep Roads," Varric said as he pushed one aside and pulled another toward him for a closer look. "I'm trying to find the best way in, with the least amount of travel involved."
"Well, that's easy," Hawke said as she stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. "I'd be happy to show you once we get there."
Varric shook his head. "Hawke, I'm telling you, no matter how many times you ask, the answer is no. The last thing I need is Malcolm Hawke busting down my door should the unthinkable happen."
"Where'd you get these anyway?" Hawke asked, pretending she hadn't heard him say 'no' yet again. She noticed the small seal on the corner of each page. "And if I'm not mistaken, that's a Grey Warden seal, is it not?"
He shrugged. "I know people."
His constant refusal to allow her to go on this expedition with him had been the topic of many arguments as of late. Varric had no problem dragging her into all sorts of trouble, but the one thing she really wanted to do, he had been outright refusing. And now he obviously planned to continue on with his secrets - first the mystery mage from last night, and now the source of these maps?
While Varric was engrossed in his research, Hawke cautiously and quietly took two steps away from him. "I believe we're having a communication problem, Varric," she said, taking a quick side-step to the right. "You're keeping an awful lot of secrets lately, and it's making me pout. You know I don't like to pout, it's not good for the skin."
"You'll get over it," he said, still distracted.
"Will I now?" Hawke adeptly retrieved Bianca from where she rested against the wall, and pointed her at Varric.
The dwarf turned to face her when he heard the familiar sound of his crossbow being prepped for firing. For the first time, in all the years she'd known him, Varric opened his mouth, but no words came out. His jaw worked, but there was not one sound.
Hawke grinned. At least now she had his attention.
Neither one turned when Fenris entered the suite. He assessed the current situation quickly: Hawke holding Bianca, aimed at Varric, and the dwarf's expression was the grimmest he'd ever seen. "Clearly I've come at a bad time," Fenris said, hesitating in the doorway.
Varric didn't take his eyes off his weapon, but Hawke turned and offered Fenris a wide smile. "Hello Fenris! Varric and I were just discussing the importance of friendship. Care to weigh in?"
Fenris was relieved when he felt the press of Isabela's breasts against his back. Though he despised how often the woman threw herself at him, her timely arrival prevented him from having to respond to Hawke's question.
"Oh Amber," Isabela said, eying Hawke as she held Bianca. "How many times must I tell you to stop playing with Varric's woman? Am I not enough for you?" she said with a wink.
"Varric can have his precious Bianca back after he answers my question," Hawke said. "The maps, dwarf. Where did you get them?"
"My meeting last night," Varric caved, knowing full well he wouldn't get his hands on Bianca until Hawke got her answer. "That mage you were drooling over. Now, give me Bianca before you scratch her."
"I would never," Hawke said softly, relinquishing the weapon. "But I hate how I have to go to such extremes to get you to talk to me lately."
Varric methodically checked over his crossbow for any sign of damage, though he knew there wouldn't be. "All for your own good, Rosebud. The less trouble you're in, the better I sleep at night."
"Well that was anticlimactic," Fenris said as he finally entered the room.
"Tell me about it," Isabela agreed as she followed. "You give in too easily, Amber. I would've held out for a name and location."
Hawke shrugged. "I thought you liked it when I gave in," she teased.
"Of course I do sweet thing," Isabela said, planting a kiss on Hawke's cheek. "Just stopped by to say hello. I'm off to the docks to see if I can't sleep my way toward a new ship. Care to join me? I bet both of us together could get me a ship in no time."
Hawke shook her head, and laughed. "That's your thing, not mine, as you know very well." She had a lot in common with Isabela, it was true. Yet in this way they were very different. "One person at a time, thanks very much."
"I'll convert you yet," Isabela said with a hearty laugh, and she exited the room.
"Anyone want to take a walk with me?" Hawke asked after Isabela was gone.
Varric began to roll up the parchments. "These maps are driving me nug-shit crazy. I could use a break."
Fenris shrugged. "I've got nothing better to do than to follow you Amber, you know this."
Hawke smiled. "My faithful elf. Come on, let's go shopping!"
⧽❀⧼ • ⧽❀⧼ • ⧽❀⧼ • ⧽❀⧼
Hawke was perfectly comfortable in Lowtown, and didn't truly mind the docks, except for the stench of dead fish that always pervaded the place. Hightown was her home, of course, and she spent a lot of time at the Gallows, where her father kept his office. There was really only one place in Kirkwall that Hawke avoided. In fact, Malcolm had forbidden her from ever going there.
Darktown. Once no more than the city's sewers, it was now home to the worst elements of Kirkwall. Mostly run by the Coterie, the undercity was also crawling with refugees from the Blight, living in the worse kind of conditions. In fact, witnessing their suffering, and being able to do so little to help them, was why Hawke really avoided the place. If it weren't for the fact that she'd heard rumors of a top-notch poison maker who'd recently opened a shop there, she wouldn't be there now.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Rosebud?" Varric asked, adjusting Bianca on his back for the third time. He still hadn't recovered from the fact that Hawke had actually touched her - held his precious baby in her arms, even.
"Probably not," she replied. "But Isabela's name day is tomorrow, and you know how she loves poisons."
Varric chuckled, determined to regain his good humor. "That she does. I know she's been trying to get her hands on some deathroot toxin, but Martin can't find any."
"Martin talks big, but his inventory is shoddy," said Hawke. "Besides, that's why we brought Fenris along." She glanced back at the elf and smiled, reassured by the long sword on his back.
"And here I thought it was because my glowing tattoos would light the way," Fenris said dryly.
Hawke laughed. "Well, there is that."
The poison-maker turned out to be an elf named Tomwise, and Hawke was thrilled by his selection of poisons. By the time she left with her purchases, she'd even struck a deal with the merchant to gather some ingredients he needed for his crafting. The extra gold would certainly be useful to bribe Varric into allowing her come on his expedition. It was no secret that his brother Bartrand was having trouble raising the coin. In fact, maybe she should try going straight to Bartrand himself - bypass Varric all together.
Despite Varric's fear that her parents would be furious should he agree, Hawke was determined to go. More than anything, she wanted to explore more of the world then this little slice of the Free Marches.
Distracted by her thoughts, she almost missed seeing the glimpse of blond hair and feathered pauldrons that slipped around the corner just ahead of them. It took her a moment to realize that it had to be Varric's mage, but what was he doing in Darktown?
She turned the corner to follow him, and heard Varric say from behind her, "Um, Rosebud, the lift is over there."
Hawke didn't even bother to look where the dwarf pointed. Instead, she hurried down another short flight of steps, and in her haste, nearly ran into her prey.
"Wait!' she called and reached out a hand to steady herself. The mage quickly shrugged off her touch.
"I have nothing to say to you," he said dismissively, and resumed his walking.
"That's a little harsh," Hawke said, trying to keep up. "You don't even know me."
He turned back, and glared at her with obvious distaste. "You are the Peacekeeper's daughter," he said. "That's all I need to know."
As Hawke stood and watched his retreating back, she felt very confused, and more than a little hurt.
Cowritten by Fenzev and Wintryone