Chapter 3 – Regrets

Hawke

Here I am. Three years older, and what have I got to show for it? I thought that things were finally looking up for us when I met Varric after his ass of a brother turned us down for a job. I suppose that some things have been good, but it's hard to focus on those things with so much else that has gone wrong. Varric told me I should write down everything that we've been through, everything that I'm feeling, that someday it will be a "tale to rival the Hero of Ferelden's." I will, for him; I owe him that much. Sometimes I think he is my only true friend, and the only one who keeps me hanging on to my sanity.

Where do I even start? I suppose it can start with the same person that my last reflections ended with: Bartrand. That bastard. If it hadn't been for him… well, I suppose I'm already getting ahead of myself. Maker, Varric is so much better at this than I am.

I suppose I'll begin, as Mother always told me as a child, with my blessings. One would think that with the family estate back and more riches than I know what to do with I would be happy. Even now I sit at a writing desk more expensive than Gamlen's entire house, yet feel sick to my stomach over it. Maybe it's because, to me, there is nothing that could have cost more than what it took to get these frivolous, material things. I also have several loyal friends, although some of them I doubt, even after all we have been through together:

Varric – Where would I be without him? He may have the worst brother in all of Thedas, but his loyalty and friendship are something that I do not think I will ever question. I do not think that I would have made it through these past few weeks without him and his ability to make me laugh no matter what.

Aveline – I'm certain that she means well, but I doubt that she will ever be the friend that Varric is. She is certainly caring and concerned enough with my well-being, but I know that, in her heart, her loyalty is with the Kirkwall City Guard. It is comforting to know that she would never betray me, but it can certainly be tiring hearing her lectures when she doesn't agree with a course of action I've taken. In all fairness, though, sometimes I question the actions I've taken.

Isabela – Maker, what am I going to do with her? She certainly makes me smile, but I know without question that, if it came to it, Isabela would betray me without blinking if it would benefit her.

Merrill – How a sweet elf like her ever got caught up in blood magic and demons is beyond me. I fear that it will eventually drive a wedge between her and most of the rest of us. I keep trying to get through to her and help her, but she is almost beyond reason, and I do not think she realizes the trouble she could herself (and us) into!

Fenris – If you can get past him punching through people's chests without breaking a sweat, I think he is really a rather good person. I have tried speaking to him about his past several times, and have also tried to talk about various and sundry other things, but he doesn't seem to understand the concept of friendly conversation. I don't think he knows what it means to have a friend at all. I hope that someday he does. Right now he is too obsessed with revenge that I think his hate eclipses any good feelings he might be hiding.

Anders – Oh, Anders. How he has pulled at my heart with his earnest struggle for the mages, with his sincere compassion for my dear sister's plight. I thought, if for just awhile, that I might grow to love him (Varric will have a field day if he ever gets hold of this). And why not love him? It's not Justice that bothers me. It's not his eagerness to help. It is the unexplainable knowledge that he is hiding something. And I know that it's something more than just the average "I just lost your favorite pair of daggers" secret; I have a feeling this is something terrible. Something dark. Something that even love could not make him divulge. I know that, were I to let myself fall in love with him and were this secret to be revealed, it would shatter my heart beyond repair.

And finally, Bethany. My dear sister. My biggest regret. I thought that leaving her behind when we took off for those Maker-forsaken Deep Roads was for the best. I thought that she would be safer with Mother and Gamlen, that she wouldn't have to deal with the nightmares I will forever have about that place, that I was protecting her. And now she's gone. Gone but for the occasional letter and for the glimpses of her we get when we can visit the Circle. I came back from that expedition just in time to see the templars dragging her off to the Circle of Magi, and to be blamed by my Mother yet again for the loss of another child. I miss her so much. I would give up everything we have now and live on the streets of Darktown if it would bring her back.

Mother, I think, is moving past this. She might believe it when Bethany says that she is happy in the tower, but I can see past those words she only says to keep our mother from worrying too much. How must it be, I wonder, to be able to find comfort in false words and reinstatement of past glory?

I suppose I've moved past the good things in life and into the regrets, haven't I? While I'm on the subject, I suppose I can cover another problem. The thing that led to this whole mess. The reason that I want to scream until all of Kirkwall knows the depths of my pain. That damned Deep Roads expedition.

Did it yield incredible riches? Without a doubt. Could it be considered "a success?" Perhaps. The only thing that matters to me is that it stole my sister from me, Varric's brother from him, and nearly got all of us killed and has caused me to largely lose my faith in humanity.

Varric can tell this story better than I, so I think I will abstain from saying any more on the subject at present, especially as just thinking about it is causing my quill to nearly rip through the parchment I write this upon.

On a completely different note, Mother has been hinting that now that we live in Hightown, perhaps I should be looking for a husband. Maker help me, if she invites another "eligible young nobleman" to dinner, I may be forced to demonstrate just how good my bowmanship is! Certainly, some of them are incredibly handsome, all of them are well thought of in the town, and some even have halfway decent personalities. There is something about all of them that will never appeal to me, though. I know that Mother (and most of them) think it is high time I stop "playing the soldier" and being more of a lady, but I could no sooner cut off my right arm: fighting is part of who I am, and I know that I will never be able to ignore that.

The other thing I will never be able to tell Mother (and can barely admit to myself, sometimes) is that my heart was inexplicably given to someone years ago; someone I doubt I'll ever see again, and even if I did, the chances of him remembering me are slim-to-none. Would the man who became the King of Ferelden look twice at a girl he knew for a scant afternoon, especially when there are sure to be hundreds of beautiful women at his court? Would Mother understand my fascination after all these years? No, it would probably be for the best if I could just move on. If only I could stop dreaming of amber eyes flecked with gold set in a chiseled face, a lopsided grin, and simpler times back in Ferelden.

I suppose I should stop dwelling on things that I cannot change, but the pain and anger is still so fresh that it may take me some time. In the interim, I suppose that I'll keep doing what needs to be done. I have a very important meeting with the Viscount tomorrow… who would have thought that little old me would ever have an audience with someone so important? Yet, here I am. I doubt that I will be able to do much to help, especially if this meeting concerns the Arishok (which I'm certain it does), but I suppose I will do my best. While I may have lost my faith in much of Kirkwall, I haven't given up hope completely; perhaps I may even be able to play some small part in helping it to become a better place.

Alistair

Who would have thought that the King of Ferelden, and the man who helped to defeat the Blight was a coward? For surely, a coward must be what I am. Oh, the whole kingly business hasn't been too bad. Ferelden is certainly on the mend, and our relationship with Orlais isn't looking to bad, either. Why am I a coward, you might be wondering? Well, let me enlighten you.

These last years Eamon has been relentless about me taking a wife. I suppose I can understand his reasoning, and I acknowledge that things would probably go much more smoothly if there were a little heir to the throne running around before I head off to Orzammar someday. Blood, after all, is really the only reason I'm on the throne to begin with, isn't it?

Still, you would think that if I can face down darkspawn without flinching, it shouldn't be too hard to handle women, right? That's where you would be wrong. I'll admit it: I, Alistair Theirin, am a complete idiot when it comes to dealing with women.

First, it was Anora. I know it's hard to believe that I'd turn down my half-brother's widow who, coincidentally, happens to be a complete snake, but I did. Even though me being king hasn't caused the kingdom to dissolve into chaos as she thought it would, anyone can see that she thinks she could do better. No, there is no way that I would subject myself to the attentions of that perfectly charming woman.

More recently, Eamon has begun to introduce me to a variety of lovely young women from around Ferelden. All of them certainly are more than happy about the idea of becoming Queen, but I have no interest in any of them. None of them have seen me as anything past my title. None of them care about my experiences, my hopes, dreams, likes, dislikes… None of them see past my crown and see the person who I am. None of them save one.

The one woman I might have considered made it quite clear that, while she would become queen if it were required of her, would much prefer not to. Elissa Cousland, the youngest survivor of Howe's treachery many years ago, is far more interested in helping her brother to rebuild Highever than marrying me. I could not see myself taking her away from what is clearly her passion, and only hope that she and I can remain friends.

I suppose I shouldn't try to fool myself, though. There is only one woman who has ever haunted my dreams. Only one whose memory sustained me through those terrible times just a few short years ago. Only one whose raven hair and blue eyes I am certain I will never see again. Why can't I get over her? It's not as if I knew her well, or had a long and meaningful relationship with her, or even shared my hopes and dreams with. I made the mistake of telling Eamon and Teagan about her. Teagan seemed somewhat sympathetic, but Eamon simply laughed at my foolishness and told me he had found another girl who was sure to catch my fancy.

Maker, I think I need a holiday. Somewhere far away. Far enough away where I can forget that I'm king for a few moments. Perhaps far enough that I can begin to let go of a memory (as sweet as that memory might be). I don't think I'll go to Orlais; with our relationship on the mend, I'm too well-known there. Antiva doesn't sound particularly appealing, either, especially as the Crows are still none too happy with me.

Perhaps I'll go to Kirkwall.

A/N: I struggled a bit with how to do this chapter, especially with Alistair's point of view. I know that Hawke's words are a bit dark, but I think that the game doesn't do the best job of portraying how Hawke must have felt at the end of Act 1, regardless of the outcome. Let me know what you think! I would like to extend a big thank you to those who are following, favorite-ing, and reviewing… Especially artilyon-rand, FenZev, and naomis8329 for their kind and encouraging words!