Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and I do not stand to profit from it.
A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this. Especially sorry to 'thevaaner' for whom I am writing this story. I hope you didn't think that I had given up. Updates will definitely be more regular from now on.
Chapter 4: What! You two are related?
Isabela's flashback:
After hearing what her friend had to say, Isabela suddenly made the impulsive decision to run away from their slave camp.
Alina just looked at her and said, "Are you all right Isabela? How will we do that? What do we know beyond this place? Even if we somehow manage to get away from here, where do you think we are going to go?"
"I don't have the answers to your questions Alina, but I know that if we don't run away from here soon enough, we'll never escape from slavery again. I don't want to be a slave all my life. From what you just told me now, I feel that if we stay here any longer, our lives will be more miserable than what they are right now and we'll be spending them forever doing things for others without looking out for our own happiness. I don't know what I will do with the rest of my life. But it definitely isn't going to be that. I want to get out of here. Right now."
Isabela then took a deep breath. It was the longest and most passionate thing she had said in her whole life.
The other girl considered all of this for a long time and then said, "Ok, how shall we do this?"
Isabela smiled; something that any child in the encampment hardly ever did. But today, she was filled with an optimism that wouldn't be quelled so easily. It made her forget her pain and urged her to do something, something she had never had the guts to do in her whole life.
Isabela got up from the bed and said, "First, we shall go to the kitchen and get your drink of water. Timothy will probably be asleep now but even if he notices us, we'll tell him that we are just there to drink. Come on. We'll make some plan along the way."
Alina, who had forgotten that she was thirsty by now, got up too and followed Isabela to the shack's door. They opened it very carefully so as not to disturb the other sleeping kids and set out for the mansion which was about a quarter of a mile away.
They made their way through the dark, unkempt green grass of the mansion grounds. It was the same path that they followed every day. A fountain, some wild, non-uniform shrubbery and dried, crumbling rose hedges all of which belonged to a bygone era dotted the mansion grounds. They would never know that this had once been a place filled with beauty and laughter. To them, it was just a place of sadness and torture.
Each child had several bad memories associated with different parts of the place. Walking through the grounds only reminded them of being forced to sit in the scorching, afternoon sun for hours and being beaten black and blue later, as a punishment. The beautiful fountain in the centre of the grounds was where the slavers would throw in the disobedient children, plunging them in the cold water and holding their tiny heads down until they became breathless.
They would then be allowed to pull their heads out, take in a few great gulps of air, only to be pushed back down again and again until the child finally fainted from the shock. It was Garohn's favorite punishment, to be given only when one of the children made a terribly big mistake. He could never resist doing it every once in a while though, even when someone didn't make a mistake. "I love watching the fear of death in your eyes," he would tell them. Isabela shuddered. He had only done it to her once when she was caught sneaking in the kitchen in search of food. It wasn't a big mistake and none of the other slavers would have given her such a punishment for it. By courtesy of her rotten luck, she had been caught by him when he happened to be in one of his sadistic moods. He had smiled upon seeing her and then…
Isabela gulped. She did not want to think about that now. Her heart was beating very fast and she was finding it difficult to breathe as they ran faster and faster towards the slaver mansion. Both she and Alina were barefooted and the grass below their feet was coarse and dry. Their frail bodies were shivering in the loose, cotton undershirts that adorned them. It was winter in Rivain and although it was always mildly warm and pleasant during the day; the nights were bone-chillingly cold.
Alina, who was a few feet ahead of Isabela stopped suddenly. Isabela stopped too; grateful for the break. Their shoulders drooping, they placed their hands on their knees and started heaving, breathless from the run. After a few moments, Alina slowly stood up straight and turned around to face Isabela. Her face looked stricken. She said, "Isabela, I don't think I can do this."
Isabela was tired and still heaving. She didn't say anything but just stared at her friend as she continued to gasp and heave. It took her another couple of seconds and then she too regained her breath. She looked at Alina and said. "You're right. I am tired Alina. My back is starting to hurt again. But we're already more than half-way there so let's just get your drink of water and go back. I can't do this either."
Alina nodded and the two again set of towards the mansion. Their pace was much slower and lacking in the enthusiasm and excitement that it had had earlier. Isabela was disappointed. Only twenty minutes before she had been happy and that too for the first time in weeks. It wasn't a feeling that she had experienced very frequently in her life but the few times when she had, it had felt wonderful. But it would also be short-lived. Always. Just like now.
She felt dull, sad and much more tired than she had ever been. Only a short while ago, she had tasted the dream of freedom only to be accosted now by the gloom of reality. Yet, she silently followed the blonde girl in front of her. It seemed to take forever but finally, the grey-brick building of the mansion came into view. They had reached the main gate. It was only a foot taller than the girls and they never had any difficulty opening it. Very quietly, they walked up the steps to one of the side-doors which was closest to the kitchen.
There was no one inside and after going through two narrow corridors and the main hall, they were finally in the kitchen. It was a small room, compared to the rest of the house and it also had a lot of furniture making it seem even more cramped. There was a large wooden table, about fifteen into five feet in the centre of the room. It occupied almost half of the room's space along with the eight wooden chairs that surrounded it. There were two larders, one of which was always empty at night. The other was filled with food and venison but always kept locked. Both were in a corner of the room, adjacent to each other and opposite the kitchen door.
Isabela went to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. They were still a little higher for her so she had to place her hands on the seat and propel herself up to be seated. She did so in a few seconds and comfortably placed her hands on the table's top leaving her legs dangling at the bottom. As she watched Alina make way to the kitchen counter and try to pour water from the large jug into one of the small pitchers, her mind went back to what she had been thinking less than an hour before.
Alina, having finally managed to fill two pitchers with enough water, silently placed the jug away. She took both of the pitchers and carried them to the table. She placed one of them before Isabela and drank her fill from the other one.
All the while, Isabela thought about whether there was still a chance that they could escape. Her enthusiasm was dampened, but the resolve remained. But she was so tired and it was so much cold outside. No, she thought. Not today. We can escape. But it will have to be carefully planned.
She then realized how absurd her idea was. Two half-dressed, frail girls, both ten years of age, running out into the dead of the night with no idea where to go and not even a single bronze piece in their pockets. They had no food with them either. The larder was locked and it was a large deadbolt. It was way too heavy for the kids to open even if they had the key. It was impossible to steal anything. With no food and money, how far could they even hope to get?
At the most, they could escape from this place and run, maybe half a mile before the cold and fatigue got to them and forced them to stop and rest somewhere or simply faint on the road. Their slave camp was located in a very isolated place and there were very few buildings in the vicinity. She knew that they wouldn't be welcome there.
"Isabela. What are you thinking about so much?"
Isabela broke away from her thoughts and looked at Alina. The girl was smiling at her. "Come on. I finished my drink and you haven't even touched yours. You are thirsty, aren't you? If you don't want it, give it to me quickly. I'll dump the water and place everything just as it was earlier. No one should know we were here at this time. We have to hurry back."
"No. I am thirsty," she said, realizing now that she was. She drank it all up, wiped her mouth and handed the pitcher to Alina.
After a few minutes, both the girls got up and were almost near the kitchen door when to their surprise, it opened by itself. There was no one on the other side. A chill went through Isabela. How did that happen? she thought. For a few seconds, both the girls just stood there staring at open door and the unobstructed view of the main hall that it offered.
Then suddenly, out of now nowhere, a scrawny, brown-haired boy, about five inches taller than them jumped in to the scene and blocked their view. There was a mischievous sparkle in his brown eyes. "Caught you!" he shouted.
"Timothy!" said a panicked Alina, looking at the boy. Her eyes were filled with fear. "You aren't going to tell on us, are you?"
Isabela remained silent. Timothy was also a slave but he had a room here in the slaver mansion. He was the oldest among the kids and was assigned to keep guard over them. He was also a very annoying tattle-tale, never relinquishing the opportunity to get anyone punished."
"Ohhh yes I am," he said. "You girls will follow me right now to our slave-master's quarters."
"No, please," pleaded Alina. The punishment for being caught in the mansion at night was six, strong whiplashes. She was already tired and weary from sleeplessness and she wanted so badly to go back to the shack and feel safe; if at least for an hour or so. No, she didn't want those lashes. She could feel tears begin to form at the corner of her eyes. In a few short seconds, they turned into tiny drops and started to slide along her cheeks. Timothy just looked at her and laughed. She felt so pathetic in front of him.
"No, we won't go anywhere with you," screamed Isabela, utterly defiant. Alina and Timothy instantly turned their attention to her. Alina's tears stopped mid-way and Timothy's face had a look of surprise and anger.
"You are not doing this to us Timothy. You were one of us too a few years earlier. You know what it feels like. Why are you helping them?"
"I was one of you. Not anymore. Now I am one of them. And among the two…," he began, tucking his wrist under his chin, he pretended that he was giving it some serious thought, "I prefer… them! Ha ha.
"Stop it Isabela. Let's just go and get this over with. You know that this is of no use," pleaded Alina.
Isabela didn't pay any attention to her. She was still locking stares with the boy. "No, we won't go. Do you really think they are going to set you free, Timothy?"
Timothy smiled at her. It was a large, mean smile and it made his thin, pock-marked face much, much more ugly, thought Isabela.
After some time, he said, "Oh I know that Isabela. I know what they do to kids when they get old enough to leave the camp. But that isn't going to happen to me. The slavers have asked me to join them." He paused, giving the two girls, ample time to let it all sink in.
After enjoying their perplexed looks for a few moments, he continued, "And my first job as a brand new slaver is... to administer whip lashings to naughty slaves."
Alina looked at him horrified. No, she thought, that's not possible. He was going to join them. Why he…
"What's this here? I smell mischief and I love that smell," said a loud, deep, masculine voice in an all too familiar, mocking and equally cruel tone.
Now it was Isabela's turn to be scared. She turned around to face the scariest slaver she had ever known. Garohn was coming towards them. Even though it was almost three in the morning, he wasn't in night clothes. She had never seen him in anything but his standard, warm colored tunics and tan leggings. Does he even sleep in them, thought Isabela.
Garohn's had a cruel look in his green eyes, as he eyed the two girls. "Who's ready to take a dip in the fountain?" he said, in a sinister tone.
Every night was party-night at the Hangman's Pub. But tonight, was a celebration. The usually dreary, dimly lit interiors of Lowtown's most famous building had on a very different look tonight. The whole place was brightly lit and cleaned to perfection. There was a glow on everyone's face and a drink in everyone's hands. There was a lot of laughter and chatter. Everyone was happy that the missing four from the Deep road's expedition had returned safe and sound.
Well, mostly they were happy about the riches that they had come across and every shady character in Lowtown, know or unknown to Isaac was here. They had all turned up at the party, to see how they could get a share in the spoils.
Wow, news travels fast thought Isaac. The entire place was packed. The owner had to barricade the door to prevent more people from entering. He was happy because of the business that he would be making that night but his concerns for the security of his pub were quickly outweighing that. There were rival gang members, dangerous criminals, members of the Carta and even a few of the nobility with their gold necklaces and diamond cuffs. All were vying to get a piece of the big pie.
Isaac however, was unfazed by all this. It had been weeks since he had had a drink in his hand and he wanted to make the most of the moment. The minute he and Carver had entered the building, they had been ambushed equally, by hugs and questions. Everyone else was already there and they had all been waiting for him. After two hours of questioning and explaining, he was settled comfortably in his chair with his hands placed on the table. It was a round table and Varric and Anders were on either side of him. Fenris was diametrically opposite him and he was seated between Isabela and Carver. Aveline had gotten up a few minutes before and she was chatting with Guardsman Donnic at another table. Merril was seated between Isabela and Varric.
Varric had had just one drink up till now and he looked visibly upset over something. Merril, quick to sense anyone's feelings looked at him and said, "Varric, come on now. You have been morose long enough. Tell us what's upsetting you. Before the dwarf could reply, Isaac spoke.
"We haven't heard any news of Bartrand yet."
Varric, still staring at the table, nodded solemnly. "Bartrand was always… always more of a merchant than an older brother. But, he wasn't really that bad. Sure he always put money first. But that didn't mean that he would betray his family and leave them to die. I don't know what got into him."
"This idol that you found," said Anders, "You said it was made of lyrium?"
"Yes, it seemed to emanate some kind of mysterious energy when I touched it" said Isaac.
"It was unlike anything I had ever seen," said Varric.
"But the moment it went into that dwarf's hands," said Fenris, "something in him changed. That's when he got greedy and abandoned us. Or maybe he was always greedy. I simply cannot tell."
"That lyrium," said Anders, "I have heard of it. It isn't the good kind of magic. It does strange things to people. Many are undocumented. I have read that its effects are dangerous if it falls in the hands of someone who isn't a mage or a templar. It magnifies the negative traits of one's character. Many people are known to have been driven mad by greed and power, once they acquire it."
"Poor Bartrand," said Merrill, sadly.
"I'm so sorry, Varric," said Isabela.
"Now, now, there's no need to be concerned ladies," said Varric, looking up and smiling for the first time that day. "I'll put more pressure on all my sources. We'll find him somehow. Sooner or later."
Everyone at the table smiled politely at Varric. They didn't have the heart to tell him what they thought would happen if he found his brother.
Anders leaned towards Isaac and whispered, "We desperately need to change the subject."
Isaac nodded to him.
It was Carver who saved them. "Hey Isaac. What have you decided to do now?"
"Yes," said Isabela even more direct, "Where's all the money?"
Isaac, leaned back in his chair and smiled. His mother had pestered him about the same thing a million times ever since he had come back. That was the very reason Hangman's was so crowded today. Everyone wanted to ask him the same thing. Now, there was silence all around him. Everyone within earshot (which was a lot of people with the pub being so crowded tonight) stopped their conversations and merry-making to stare at him. They were all eager to know. Many of those who had been around him since the start of the evening, had drifted away in the past hour, to either the bar or the other tables. Now, they were all gradually returning.
Everyone had heard Varric's brief version and now knew that a very large amount of gold had been found by them. It was much, much more than they had expected and everyone was dying to know the amount and location of the treasure. All evening, in whispered conversations throughout the room, they all speculated as to where it could be. Surely Isaac hadn't kept all that gold in his uncle's dingy, Lowtown hovel?
Isabela knew that the gold was now in Varric's possession, kept safely away from wary eyes in some secure, hiding place in Kirkwall, that only he knew off. They definitely wouldn't reveal it tonight.
Isaac, who was enjoying the moment, let them all stare at him for a few more minutes. "Mother said that she would petition the viscount tomorrow. She'll definitely be granted an audience. Our new-found fame and fortune will see to that. Within a week or so, I think we'll have our family estate back. It's in a… rather sorry state now," he paused, allowing an expression of disappointment to briefly settle on his features, "But, as soon as we finish the repairs and have it ready, you will all be invited to the house-warming party."
With that, he picked up his beer mug, clinked it with Varric's, shouted a loud, "Cheers," and drank it all up. Carver, Varric and Isabela just looked at him, amusedly.
If he made a 'Places I hate to visit list, Isaac would definitely include 'The Viscount's Keep', in it. It was always full of snobbish nobles, rude city-guards and over-eager peasants. Even now, as he accompanied his mother along its lush, carpeted hallway, he felt listless. It was the morning after he had had his reunion with all his friends at the Hangman's pub and his head throbbed from an aching hangover.
"Isaac dear, I swear, you are walking like your feet are made of lead. By goodness, do keep up. I feel like you are the one who gave birth to me," said his mother.
Isaac managed a chuckle. "Oh, then please excuse my tardiness mother," he said with sparkling eyes, "you see, childbirth can be very exhausting."
His mother gave him a stern glare and strode up the first flight of steps. Isaac followed her, still bored and in pain from his headache but with a quicker pace.
After five more minutes, they were talking to Seneschal Bran. "I have to see him now," said Leandra, "There has been a very important development."
Seneschal Bran just stood there, giving her a vacant look before starting his routine monologue, "I told you madam; the papers for your estate are already among our very important documents and the Viscount will look through them as soon as he has the time."
"Well," she began, "considering the fact that you have been telling me this for the past twelve weeks, I think the Viscount must have had ample time to look through them."
"No, I assure you madam, he most certainly hasn't had any. With the continued Qunari presence in this city, I'm sure you'll understand that he has much bigger things to look into. Now, if you'll excuse me, I too have other, more important matters to attend to."
Before Leandra could react, the Seneschal had noticed Isaac. He immediately stopped in his tracks, half-way between mother and son. "Hawke, it's surprising you're here so soon, when I… just dispatched the Viscount's letter to your residence, only an hour ago."
Hawke looked at him nonchalantly and said, "Well, I'm equally surprised to learn that the viscount has called upon me… so soon after I safely brought back his son some… should I say two months ago?"
The other man gave an uncomfortable cough at that. "Well you see," he said, nodding towards to Leandra, "as I was just explaining to Miss Amell here, the Viscount is… extremely busy."
Isaac laughed loudly at that and attracted the attention of many others in the massive room. Leandra and Seneschal Bran just folded their hands to their chests and narrowed their eyes at him with matching, stern gazes.
As he slowly suppressed his laughter, Isaac wondered for a moment if the two of them were related through some common crisscrossing in the web of Kirkwall's noble family trees. After a few more moments, he looked at the Seneschal and said, "First of all, 'Miss' Amell…? Surely you must know that my mother was married long back. Did she craftily neglect to inform you, or did you not come across it in the thorough background research that your office 'usually' carries out whenever someone petitions to have their old, Hightown estate returned?"
It was now Leandra's turn to look uncomfortable. So she might have neglected to mention to anyone in the city, her travails in the past two decades ever since she had left Kirkwall. But it wasn't like anyone recognized her now. No one except Gamlen had bothered to ask her even. So she had being stuck to calling herself an 'Amell', whenever it proved convenient.
"Wait, your Mother!" screamed Bran looking back and forth between the two Hawkes.
"Oh yes," said Isaac, still rippling with laughter. "We are related."
"Well then that… certainly complicates matters. If your mother here isn't an Amell anymore, I'm afraid she can no longer lay claim to their estate."
"But, my parents will states that upon their death, the estate is to be passed on to me and my children.
"What? It does?" said Bran, scratching his head.
"Yes, it's there along with the papers that I handed over to you when I came with the 'petition'," said Leandra, angrily.
Bran just looked at them helplessly. This was certainly a situation that he hadn't planned to encounter. People came to him with trivial issues throughout the day and his office hardly ever bothered to check on each. This was because most of them just turned out to be bogus claims and petitions for unnecessary power.
He opened his mouth to mumble an awkward apology only to be stopped by Isaac.
"And again, you had more important matters to attend to?" said Isaac, again unable, to disguise the laughter from his voice.
"Well, I am very sorry," he finally managed. "I assure you that from now, we will look through your petition with a fine-toothed comb and get back to you within a day. Meanwhile, Hawke, you have been urgently summoned to the Viscount's office." With that, the Seneschal left the duo and took long strides towards his own office, a mere ten feet away.