The next day, Hawke woke snug in her bed. Though she was still sore, bruised and suffering a hangover, she felt strangely content. Perhaps it was all thanks to her sleeping companion.
Still fast asleep beside her, Isabela shifted and rolled onto her side. The sight brought a smile to Hawke's face. The two had spent the better of the night and early morning with plenty of Fenris' tevinter wine, gossip and dirty stories. And although she barely remembered it, Hawke had a feeling it was the best night she had since Kirkwall had been thrown to chaos. She wasn't sure why or how Isabela ended up in her bed, but she was grateful. A knock on the door had Hawke groaning and struggling to get up.
"Yes?" She called, noticing that her robe hung open. Managing to pull it closed just in time as the door to her room opened. Bodahn peeked his head inside, smiling warmly.
"Good morning, Messere! I apologize for being a bother," The dwarf gave a short bow of his head. But Hawke only smiled and waved him off.
"Not a problem at all, Bodahn. Something wrong? Did the Dog chew my letters again?" Hawke stretched, humming. Feeling too good to let a little something like that get her down. Bodahn laughed, a pleasing sound.
"No, Messere. The mabari is behaving rather well this morning. I have reason to believe it is on account of our guest." The dwarf seemed strangely proud of this, Hawke frowned curiously, peeking over her shoulder at the woman in her bed, rolling slightly as her slumber started to fade.
"Because of Isabela? I highly doubt that..." She smirked. By Bodahn's surprised blink, Hawke guessed he hadn't known she was still there. The thought turned smug when the good-natured dwarf noticeably flustered and ducked his head.
"Ah, no messere. I had not known Mistress Isabela had stayed the night..."
"'Mistress', is it?" Isabela yawned and stretched, though she refused to raise from the rumpled sheets, "I rather like the sound of that. Sounds a lot better than 'Tainted Pirate Whore', that's for sure." Her easy laughter filled the room, and while Hawke joined her with a chuckle, Bodahn was still frazzled. Poor dwarf, might as well stop teasing him.
"You said we had a guest? If it isn't Isabela, then who..." Now Bodahn's smile returned, hands cupped together in front of him.
"Why, yes! Messere Bran has arrived with a request to speak with you. He is waiting in the front hall for the time being." Hawke felt her expression fall, a new stiffness reaching her tired muscles.
"Bran?" she gasped, Bodahn's eyebrows raising curiously. By the void, what was he doing here?
"Indeed. He seemed most adamant in speaking with you this morning, Messere. Should I tell him to come back when you are...less occupied?" Bodahn shifted uncomfortably, and Hawke had to fight not to laugh. He was reading way too into this. Sure, she and Isabela had their 'fun' on occasion, but both had silently agreed friendship was all they needed from each other. Shaking her head, Hawke crossed the room just as Bodahn opened the door wider for her.
The muffled noise of barking caught her attention as she exited into the main room, but it sounded different. A pause, bark, followed by another pause. As if he were having a conversation with someone. The Seneschal? She wondered. As she descended the stairs, Sandal rose his head curiously. The younger dwarf immediately greeting Hawke and his father with a bright smile. He had something in his hands, it glowed a docile blue.
"Morning, Sandal. Doing some enchanting today?" Hawke smiled, grateful for the boys talent in enchanting. Sandal's smile stretched wider.
"Enchantment!" he shouted conversationally, Hawke chuckled.
"Let me have a look when you're done, okay? I always love seeing your creations." She waved a hand as she neared, the happy dwarf nodding before focusing on the runes in his hands. She passed him with a fond smile as his father stood nearby to murmur words of praise and encouragement. The jealous pang she felt toward their familiar closeness was quickly shoved away. After the loss of her mother, things never quite felt the same around the estate. But she could still find a bittersweet smile whenever she lost herself in a memory of her.
The soft, sad smile was still in place as she followed the barking toward the entrance hall, stopping short when she recognized the low hum of Seneschal Bran's voice. The smooth timbre of it caught her by surprise, the tone gentler than when directed at her. So similar to how he had spoke to her yesterday morning, it was all she could do to keep from sighing at the enchanting cadence of his conversation with her dog. Judging by the way her silly mutt kept barking, he enjoyed it too. How bizarre it was to listen to the stuffy prig of a man murmur to a dog in such a gentle way. For a while, Hawke was content to stand near the doorway and listen. But when the soft rumble of the Seneschal's voice cut off, followed by her dog's curious grumble, she had a lingering suspicion that they had sensed her nearby. Cover blown, she winced when the mutt came trotting out to bark happily at her, behind wagging.
"Serah Hawke, how happy of you to join us..." The hard professionalism in Bran's voice had returned, and this time she really did sigh.
"Thanks a lot, Dog." Sarcasm was heavy in her voice, but he only barked louder. Simply pleased to see his mistress. Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? Patting his head, she braced herself and stepped into the hall where Bran waited expectantly. The wall was just as big as a bedroom and bore a few benches for seating. Benches that were...still covered in the Dog's scratches. Talk about great first impressions. Hawke found the Seneschal on one of the benches, an empty cup at his side. When his stern gaze took in her rumpled state, one eyebrow raised, Hawke felt her face warm.
"Ah, Good morning, Bran." She forced a welcoming smile, arms crossed to shield herself from his scrutiny. Lips twitching, he rose to fold his arms in his usual stance.
"Morning? The sun is high, and morning is long since passed. Do you always make a habit of sleeping the day away?" The Seneschal seemed amused, most likely because of her vulnerable state. Or because he knew how drunk she'd gotten last night, only now suffering it's consequences.
"I think I'm entitled to a little rest after the night I had." Hawke sighed, prepared for another lecture. But Bran only shifted on his feet, eyes over her shoulder. And, if she wasn't mistaken, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"I'll bet," he murmured, both eyebrows raised now. Hawke paled when she realized why he was so smug.
"Hello, Seneschal. Whipping Hawke into shape today?" Isabela's voice trickled in from the main room, filling the hall with her sultry presence as she joined them. When Bran's amused gaze fell to her, then Hawke, she felt her headache returning full force.
"That is my intention, Serah. If, that is, the Viscountess can remain coherent enough to take proper direction." Despite the circumstances, he regarded the pirate captain with an easy acceptance, a man able to look upon such blatant sexuality without getting flustered or lustful as most men did who met Isabela. Normally Isabela would've seen that as a challenge, but when she stood beside Hawke and slung an arm over her shoulder, her posture lacked the sensual dominance it usually did. Perhaps she knew how much of a lost cause trying to seduce Bran would be. The man was as cold as an ice-storm. Isabela's smile was almost friendly as she peered toward the Seneschal.
"Wouldn't go counting your sovereigns yet. Our girl here isn't fit for desk work. More of a 'bust em up' kinda gal." Isabela chuckled, obtaining an agreeing head bob and smile from Bran. This was even more bizarre than hearing him talk to her dog.
"Be that as it may, we all have to make changes when the need arises. For the future of Kirkwall, and all of Thedas, Serah Hawke will just have to learn to bend." Though they were speaking about her, neither looked her way. She was starting to feel uncomfortably invisible. The soothing sound of Isabela's full-throated laughter rolled over Hawke, relaxing her as the woman let go and made an easy stroll for the door.
"I'm sure with the right incentive, Hawke will be more than willing to bend, for Kirkwall." The pirate, brazen as she pleased, swung the door open in a flourish. "Thanks again for the wine, Hawke." She called over her shoulder, hips swaying as she left in the general direction of Lowtown. Face undoubtedly red, Hawke shook her head and lowered herself to the bench beside them, resting her forehead into a hand. Bend for Kirkwall, what in the void is that supposed to mean? Her quick temper irked when Bran chuckled, arms folded behind his back. When she glanced up at him, the tiny smug grin was still in place.
"You have an interesting friend there, Hawke." Bran gestured his head, eyes leaving her when her dog came wandering back in.
"Don't you mean lover? Since that's what she'll have everyone believe. Why not my own Seneschal as well?" Bitter, grumpy, she rose a hand for her dog, letting it fall when he completely ignored her and sat down expectantly in front Bran. Blighted mutt. Granted, he was a friendly beast, but not this blatantly obedient with a complete stranger. She could only watch as Bran bent to send a firm rub over the delighted mabari's head.
"Any one with sense enough to notice, can see that the two of you are of kindred souls. Friends, with unconditional care for one another's well being." he murmured, content to stroke the dog's head and neck.
"Yeah, well," Hawke huffed, "You know what they say, Birds of a feather fu—" she stopped just before one of Isabela's favourite inappropriate sayings could slip from her mouth. Bran's gaze was on hers again.
"Flock, together?" he said in a low voice. Hawke warmed again, darting her eyes away when he kept staring. He must have heard Isabela's dirtier version as well. Wasn't that just swell? Uncomfortable, Hawke closed her eyes, fingertips rubbing at her temples.
"Ah, right." She fell silent, taking in the faint scent of tea and the sound of the Dog's gruff breathing and low happy growls. After a while she opened her eyes, fixing them on Bran.
"Didn't peg you for a dog lover." She teased, a jealous scowl at her dog, now rolling onto his back for more petting. Bran only smiled, dropping to one knee to stroke the blissful mutt across his belly.
"I am no different than you, Hawke. My standing as Seneschal does not make me less of a human."
"You have a mabari too?" Hawke stared in disbelief. She could've sworn Bran's eyes went sad for a brief moment as he shook his head.
"Once, but no longer." His hand stilled, pleasure leaving his expression. "I haven't the spare time to care for pets anymore." As if he had accepted this saddening fact, he only watched as her dog rose and contentedly toddled away to lay beside the fire in the next room.
"Oh," Hawke stared in wonder, "I never knew that." Everything seemed to go still when Bran's intense gaze rose, capturing hers. It was then that she realized how close they were, almost able to feel his heat as he knelt there in front of her.
"There are a great many things you do not know, Serah." He spoke softly, words flowing straight through her like water. That was it, the perfect analogy for the Seneschal's deep, melodic voice. It was like water. Heavy yet free flowing through her head and sapping the ache from her temples. Her shoulders had relaxed, and seeing it, Bran continued.
"I have had to give up a great many things for Kirkwall. And I have learned to accept it, as we all do. It is my sincerest hope, Hawke, that you join us, in our efforts to keep Kirkwall safe and whole." His gaze held her still, while that voice sent her head on a dizzy spin. A sigh left her, pulled by his intense stare.
"I didn't ask for this..." her voice was too soft, as if nothing in her desired to rise higher than the air of dominance he unconsciously gave off. No man had ever had this much power over her. She was...out of her element.
"We never do." Bran murmured cryptically, reminding her of her brief meeting with the witch of the wilds. While the words were the same, the feeling they left in her was different. The longer he stared at her, into her, the smaller she felt. Powerless, helpless, lost in his heady gaze. A faint widening of his pupils when another breathy sigh left her parted lips. Her breath caught when for a mere second, his eyes fell to her mouth. Lingering for a maddening second before—
Crash, boom!
Like snuffing out a candle, the sensation broke, Hawke's headache coming back even stronger now that it lacked the cushion of Bran's voice. His eyes had darted in the direction of the noise, and he stood, curiously detached and lost in thought. Used to it, Hawke did nothing, only listening as Bodahn apologized from a room away.
"It's okay, Bodahn, I'll get another tomorrow." She called, making a mental note to buy a new table.. She might've gotten angry if it weren't for Sandal's sweet-hearted, distraught voice coming after his father's. Because she knew he was truly sorry, she wouldn't hold it against him. Besides, her head hurt, and the vulnerability Bran pulled from her was still fresh. When Bran continued to stare into the main room instead of at her, that vulnerability transformed itself into depression. She hung her head, taking a deep breath to wash away the raw sensation. Letting her thoughts collect.
"Why are you here, anyway?" She wondered aloud, keeping her head down and eyes closed in case she was tempted to look at him again. She felt, rather than seen, as Bran shifted from one foot to the other, clearing his throat.
"It was my intention to see how you were. After the night you had, it would be careless of me not to see that you are well," voice firm again, rebuilding that wall between them until Hawke felt nothing.
"How sweet," she sneered, giving in to her urge to rub her pounding temples once more. Bran took her jab with an easy grace, posture stiff and professional.
"And," he said louder to get her attention, "When a rumor surrounding the rogue Grey Warden mage fell to the Viscountess' doorstep, I found it prudent to ask if Serah Hawke knew anything regarding the matter." Hawke's eyes darted to his, found that he was already looking at her expectantly, then dashed away guiltily. But the damage was done. Bran took a step closer, and Hawke barely managed not to shirk back.
"So you do know of this rumor. Much as I expected. Now the real question is, what will you do about this?" His question hung in the air, depressing Hawke even more. What she wanted to do was cry, scream, stab something and eat a whole chocolate cake, not necessarily in that order. Not that he needed to know that. Feeling childish, she refused his answer. Not even looking his way when he shifted hands to his hips like a disapproving father.
"Hawke," he said firmly. She thankfully didn't flinch at the stern tone, "If you have information vital to this rumor..." he trailed off with a pointed stare. But Hawke only scowled, turning her head in the opposite direction.
"Nope!" She huffed stubbornly. No way would she tell him, or anyone. The less people involved the better. It wasn't as if she was protecting him. But if they knew where Anders was hiding, they might contract someone to find him. And she wanted to get to him first. Definitely.
"Really Hawke, as Viscountess, you should—"
"I'm handling it, alright?" She snapped, eyes down. For a while the Seneschal only stared at her. She assumed he'd start up again, but when he only sighed, her shoulders relaxed.
"Then I shall hold you to your word." Bran backed up, arms tucked behind his back. Hawke glanced up at him, maroon-tinted bangs shielding her eyes. His expression was sincere, so she pushed herself up to make her way to the door.
"Alright, well, I'll be by Viscount's Way later. After I..." She warmed, folding her arms across her rumpled night clothes. "I'll just be by later, okay?" She opened the door, Bran brushing past her to stand in the opening, turning to face her with that little smug grin on his mouth. Hawke shifted uncomfortably.
"Do take your time, Hawke. For public figures such as yourself, appearance can sometimes be everything." Bran nodded, standing comfortably in her doorway as if he'd been there dozens of times. Hawke pursed her lips, headache easing for some unknown reason.
"If I were the type, I would assume you just called me ugly, Seneschal," she teased, good mood returning. Bran's eyes glinted in amusement, but she caught something else as he stared intently down at her.
"Perish the thought, Madame Viscountess." he all but whispered, sending a shiver down her spine. Before she could recover, the Seneschal gave his bow and left. Steps leisurely and posture straight. As he walked away, he seemed to pull that feeling through her, a whisper of sensation before it was gone. Breath rushing out, Hawke closed the door and leaned against it. Much to her displeasure, she was grinning, thoughts cluttered with her Seneschal once again. It was clear the man had a sense of humor, or at the very least a side to his personality that he kept hidden to the public. A delightful mystery, she mused, feeling the beginnings of a challenge in her midst. And everyone knew how Hawke loved a good challenge. But when her thoughts began to remind her of Anders, her expression soured. As the sharp memory of his saucy little half smile sneaked into her mind, she hissed and kicked from the door. Tonight. She'd leave for the Deep Roads tonight. And finally get some answers. Even if she had to beat it out of him. What could possibly go wrong?