AN: First things first, thanks for the great reception guys! I checked my stats and this was surprisingly popular. Many thanks to those who added this to their alerts and, much to my surprise, their favourites. This chapter is a very drabble-esque style, I apologise. Well, thanks again to LillyPegs for forcing me into this story and constantly reminding me to do this constantly. I'd love some critical reviews, or friendly reviews. Please?
Well, I promise there shall be both action and a surprising twist in the next one. And further along.
As the sorrowful party traipsed across sand and grass to return to their ever so beloved Kirkwall, none spoke, each in too much shock to do anything more than step forward, one foot at a time. Eyes to the ground, he could only watch one foot land in front of the other. They were all so tired and exhausted; none knew what to say to the others, there were no reassurances spoken, not a despair uttered, just their heavy foot falls and the dragging of a solitary blade, courtesy of Aveline.
Eventually their feet began to hit the cobblestone of familiar High town, the noble's land of Kirkwall. By now the citizens were no strangers to travelling parties returning coated in blood and either upbeat and gleeful or downbeat and worse for wear. Thankfully, Hawkes group had always been the former, more often than not revelling in the distasteful looks sent their way. Each of the members silently broke away as the group made their way through the city, only mumbling their farewell before turning into their chosen accommodations.
Isabella had never more dejectedly shuffled into the infamous Hanged Man than she did now. Varric, sat intently spinning another tale of greatness for Hawke to live up to, immediately dispersed the rapt audience he had gained with a frown coating his features. "Rivaini?" His immediate reaction to the mourning ex pirate was to rush forward and attempt to console her. Something he should know better than to try.
Aveline's feet guided her up the ever familiar steps to the guard's barracks, leaving Fenris alone to stumble for his, or rather Denarius' mansion, alone. How could Hawke be so stupid? The ginger wasn't even paying attention, much too busy condemning herself for not taking better care of her team. She should have been keeping an eye on Hawke, knowing she had taken a bad hit a few days ago. She shouldn't have even allowed her to come along on this mission. A captain must always look out for their team. "Aveline?" Ah, Donnic, a welcome distraction.
Fenris soon found himself stumbling up the steps to the mansion, wrapped in thoughts that should never have plagued his mind about anyone, let alone the fire he had lost today. Only finding himself in front of doors would tug the thoughts away; or at least try to. His head began to shake, denial. His heart threw itself into a race, fear. His lips, drying up faster than a spell would rent the air. His stomach felt….What was the word, abnormal. Something was inside and wished for freedom it knew would never gain.
Shock is all it is. They had lost both the battle and their leader. The thoughts of what she may end up going through if sold. He was vaguely aware that a bottle of wine had found its way to his hands once again. Slavery was no joke, that's something he knew he could sympathise with. Hmm. Turns out they'll now have something in common, both were slaves. If she makes it that far. Pretty girls like her may just be forced into something a lot less pleasant. Scratch that, something as wrong as the devil himself. As wrong and abominable as the despicable mages, much like Bethany, and Anders.
Oh how he despised Anders so much. He and Hawke had hit it off from the get go, and for some unfathomable reason, anger bridled on the surface. Irritation that she had chosen to associate with yet another mage. That was why. It had to be. There couldn't be any other reason. The wine was entering his mouth. He could find the familiar cool liquid sliding down his throat relaxing. Well, it should be. Why was it not working? Even after the situation with his sister wine had worked. So why wasn't it now? Perhaps it was to do with him being twined back into a world of slavery.
Filled with frustration, at what was beyond his guess, and angst he slammed the near empty glass to the table. The contents rattled upon the impact. This was ridiculous, if was going to become so restless he would simply have to go and find Hawke to get it out of his head. Outside, the stars had began to slowly come out of hiding and switch their breath-taking lights on again, the moon in particular had chosen to penetrate the murky glass windows he held so little care for. It was his only source of light to highlight the blurred edges of objects.
He should have to be so god-damn nervous, or jittery or worried about her. There's no pact between them, no obligations, free to come and go between each other as they please. He threw himself back into one of the only good seats, not even bothering to light his fire. He just wanted to forget. To do that he either had to lose himself to the land of sleep, where the possibilities were endless, or he would have to work himself so hard there was no room for any thoughts but his tasks. The former was much better.
Stumbling to his feet he shuffled from the main room, to the stairs that would ascend him to where he currently wished to be. Sleep was very much welcome at the moment, even a yawn had thought to prove the point. Unable to do more than drag his feet, ever so slowly, up the steps and stumble into his chosen room, he found no energy to even remove his boots before falling onto the bed, forcefully given by Hawke. She wouldn't allow him to sleep on something filthy. Great, more reminders.
Many thanks again! Love you! *Hands cookie and hugs*
