Marian was huddled against a wall, smoke filling her lungs and blurring her vision. There was a girl, a child, curled in the street, bleeding and still. And every time Marian reached for her, she got shoved back against the wall. She could hear the voices taunting her, chanting for the Champion to help, but she couldn't get close enough.
Marian woke abruptly, heart racing, throat dry, and tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to sit up but was tangled in sheets, in a bed that was not hers, in a room that was not familiar. Panic mounting, she yanked the blankets back and stumbled out of bed. It wasn't until she was on her feet that she remembered where she was. She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands over her face, wiping the remnants of the nightmare from her cheeks.
After taking a few minutes to compose herself, Marian wandered into the living room. Based on the bright sunshine filling the room, she guessed it was midmorning, though she didn't feel like she'd slept much. Carver was standing by the windows, talking on the phone. Nate was sitting at the kitchen island with a laptop. He looked up when she walked in.
"Hey," he said softly, offering a small smile. "Did you sleep okay?"
Marian shrugged and tried to return the smile.
Nate glanced over at Carver, so engrossed in his phone conversation that he hadn't noticed Marian was awake.
"He's talking to Cousland," Nate explained then nodded his head in the direction of the hallway. "There are clean towels in the bathroom, if you want to shower. And there's fresh coffee in the coffee pot."
Marian opted for a shower first, hoping that washing off the layers of dirt and sweat would help get Kirkwall out of her system. But all she had to wear was the same jeans and sweater she'd had on the night before, both streaked with soot and grime. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was wet and limp, her eyes were underscored with dark circles, and her cheek and neck were covered in scrapes and scratches. She couldn't even remember where those had come from. And she had told Nate that he looked like shit. She shook her head at her reflection walked out into the living room where Carver proceeded to awkwardly fuss over her, forcing her to eat a piece of toast and drink some coffee before going to meet his boss.
She fidgeted as they drove to the Grey Warden's headquarters in on edge of the city, working at a small hole in the sleeve of her sweater, making it big enough to stick her thumb through by the time they arrived. She quietly followed her brother and Nate through the parking garage and into the elevator. No one spoke as they walked through the bustling office, Marian trying to avoid eye contact with any of the men and women in dark suits that they passed. Carver gestured to a conference room door, leaving her and Nate while he went to let his boss know they were there.
She sat in one of the chairs and watched as Nate did the same. She was more than a little grateful to have a friendly face with her, a friend even. The shower had done little to wash away the sense of unease coursing through her.
Nate smiled at her, breaking the silence. "Everything's going to be fine, Marian."
"I don't want to cause problems for Carver," she replied.
He shook his head. "You won't."
She took a steadying breath, trying to swallow down her anxiety and put on what Isabela always called her "Champion face" as Carver came into the room carrying two cups of coffee. He set one cup down in front of Marian and passed the other to Nate, but Marian's eyes were on the barrel-chested man behind her brother. Dark blonde hair, cropped close, bright green eyes, and a dark scar splitting his left cheek from just under his eye to his earlobe.
"Annie," Carver said, stepping aside, "This is Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. Commander, my sister, Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall."
"Not anymore," she scoffed, but she stood to shake the hand of her brother's very intimidating boss. "Well met, Commander Cousland."
"And you, Lady Hawke. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances." He gestured back to the chair and moved to sit in one next to her. Carver joined Nate on the other side of the table. "Carver says you were unhurt?"
"Just some scrapes and bruises, ser."
"Good," he nodded. "First things first then. Officially, you've been brought in by the Wardens and put under protective custody while we investigate the dissent and civil unrest in Kirkwall." She started to protest and noted the matching scowls on both Carver's and Nate's faces, but Cousland held up both hands and kept talking. "Unofficially, we're letting one of our best Wardens take care of his sister for a little while, keeping her out of the Chantry's claws, and deciding where to go from there when the smoke settles…ah. Bad pun not intended."
"Oh." She stared wide-eyed at the man sitting next to her. "Thank you, Commander. It is appreciated."
"Don't thank me yet," he sighed. "I can't promise how long we'll be able to hold off the Chantry. We're technically outside their jurisdiction, but…" he shrugged. "This situation is kind of unprecedented. But I take family seriously. We won't announce that we have you. Although it sounds like the media has already figured out that you fled the city, and I'm afraid the Wardens won't be able to protect you forever."
"That's fine," she said. "I just need a change of clothes and a decent meal, and I'll be out of your hair." She sounded more confident than she was. Her eyes darted to Carver's glare then Nate's frown before she looked back at the Commander—who was grinning.
"So stubbornness and a general disregard for one's own well-being runs in the family?" He quirked an eyebrow at her.
She matched his grin. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander. No Hawke has ever been accused of being stubborn." She glanced over at Carver again and added. "Or reckless." Carver shook his head and bit back a smile.
"Right," the commander drawled. "For now, Howe is assigned to you."
She raised an eyebrow at this, to which the commander responded with an exaggerated shrug. "The fact that his roommate is your brother is purely coincidental." He turned to Carver and Nate and said, "You two have some paperwork to take care of. Send Stroud in on your way out? We'll make this as quick as possible."
The rest of the morning was a blur. Marian spent the entire time in that conference room with Cousland and Stroud—a man who was more mustache than anything else. She gave her recounting of the events leading up to the bombing and the events immediately after, keeping her voice calm and her face as impassive as possible. Neither man seemed overly surprised at her ability to recall specific details about who said what and when things took place.
At lunchtime, Carver brought her a sandwich and ate with her while Cousland and Stroud met privately. Carver reassured her that they were just matching her timeline of events with other reports they'd collected. He also brought news from Isabela and Varric, both of whom were fine and laying low—most likely in the back room of the Hanged Man. He left again when Cousland and Stroud came back with more questions about specific people. She recognized a handful of the names, and she wondered if they were already narrowing in on a list of suspects.
It was late afternoon when they finally finished with their questions. Stroud left without saying anything to her, but Cousland walked her to the front lobby and thanked her for her time, promising that they would give her a chance to rest and recover before bothering her again.
When he shook her hand, he looked her in the eye and said, "I meant what I said—that I take family seriously. You'll be taken care of."
He nodded briefly at Carver and Nate before walking briskly back towards his office. She watched him walk away, a little bewildered at the intensity of his last statement, before turning to her brother.
Carver smiled at her. "Now that that's done, Nate's going to take you back home. I'll go run some errands and get you some things. Clean clothes and stuff. And I'll meet you back there in a bit. Is there anything specific you want? Things you need?"
"I can shop for myself, can't I?" She frowned at him.
"Oh. Uh, no." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We're supposed to, uh…keep you out of sight for a little while. But don't worry, I'm taking Sigrun. She'll pick things out and take care of, you know, girl stuff." He pulled her into a hug and added, "It'll be fine, Annie. I promise."
She whispered her thanks in his ear and followed Nate down the hall to the elevators.
Once they arrived back at the apartment, she pulled off her boots and curled herself up on the corner of the couch. Nate rummaged around in the kitchen for a minute before crossing the room to her and held out an open bottle of beer. She smiled up at him and gratefully took the offered bottle.
"Tell me about your nephew," she requested as he sat on the other end of the couch.
"My nephew?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Or the wallop season. Or your boss. Or something other than Kirkwall or the Chantry."
He nodded then, understanding what she meant, and started talking about his nephew, who was apparently learning to play the guitar.
It didn't take long for her to drift off. When she woke, jolted out of her sleep by a dream, Nate was still sitting next to her, feet propped up on the coffee table next to her nearly untouched beer. He looked over from the book he was reading and gave her a lopsided grin.
"Hi."
"Andraste's ass. I'm sorry, Nate." She sat up quickly, embarrassment burning her cheeks.
"It's fine," he chuckled. "You only slept for a few hours this morning, and I'm guessing you didn't sleep soundly. Carver texted. He should be—"
He was interrupted by the front door opening and Carver marching in with a handful of shopping bags.
"Maker's balls, I'm never going shopping with that woman again," he grumbled as he dropped all but one of bags on the floor. He held out the other one with a grin. "I got Rivaini take-away though."
A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating. I had one of those big, tragic, life-alerting events and...well. Anyway. Back on it. I think. I hope.