When Hawke woke next, her arms and legs were bound to a chair and the bag had been removed from her head. All in all, she considered the situation an improvement. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed the three dwarves from earlier had brought her to…Anders' old clinic.
"Here?" she asked.
One of the dwarves, the ugliest one with a thick scar down his face looked up at her voice. "It's been empty for years," he told her, and she was not surprized in the least that he was the deep-voiced one.
"What do you want?" Hawke asked. It had been years since anyone had cared enough about her to bother trying to kidnap her. Even then usually people were too afraid of her to go after her directly. Was she losing her edge?
"We work for the Merchant's Guild," ugly told her.
Hawke laughed. "Really?" she asked. "Honestly I always thought Varric exaggerated how much of a pain in the ass they were."
Ugly glared. "The Merchant's Guild does not approve of you marrying the Viscount. They had set up several, more palatable choices for Master Tethras. Choices that would have been far more profitable to the Guild."
Hawke raised an eyebrow. "I definitely remember Varric telling me about one of your 'palatable matches' trying to assassinate him several times. A Helmi daughter?"
"I don't think you're taking this seriously, Hawke," Ugly threatened.
"Me?" Hawke gasped. "Andraste preserve us!"
The nervous dwarf, who was actually decent looking if a little twitchy, stepped forward. "Maybe we should just let her go…" he suggested.
"Still want that autograph, right?" Hawke guessed.
Twitchy turned red. Ugly glared at him, then at Hawke. "Varric Tethras will marry a Merchant's Guild member, Hawke."
Hawke gasped with feigned delight. "You want me as a member of the Merchant's Guild? I didn't think you accepted humans? I'm flattered…"
"Let's just kill her," the third dwarf suggested. He had been lounging on one of the remaining cots, sharpening his daggers. "She's too much trouble to risk it."
Frowning, Hawke summoned a small flame and began to melt the chains around her wrists. The task was tedious and would attract attention, so she borrowed a page from Varric's book. Her eyes found Twitchy's. "You want to hear about how I killed the high dragon?" she asked. His eyes widened with interest. "My friend Isabela—I'm sure you've heard of her, Admiral Isabela of the Felicisima Armada?" Hawke figured name dropping her friends could not hurt her while stalling for time. "She and I decided we wanted the treasure the dragon was guarding. Well, we asked Aveline—you know Guard-Captain Aveline Vallen?—we asked her and Sebastian—Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, that's right—we asked them if they would come with us. They didn't want to, but Isabela and I can be pretty persuasive. So anyway the four of us went out to the Bone Pit and Isabela and I tried to sneak past the dragon to get to her treasure, well, that plan didn't work…" One of the manacles on Hawke's wrists snapped off and Hawke breathed an internal sigh of relief.
Twitchy leaned forward to hear the rest of the story but Ugly growled, "That's enough. We're here to satisfy the Merchants Guild. You will not marry Varric Tethras."
Stabby stood up from his cot and stalked towards Hawke, daggers gleaming. "I've got this handled," he whispered.
"Do you really?" Hawke replied with a smile. She whipped her arms around and let loose a stream of concentrated ice, freezing Stabby and Ugly solid. Twitchy stared at her, petrified. "Do you still want that autograph?" she asked. He nodded numbly.
"The Merchant's Guild, Hawke?" Varric sighed. "Here I thought they were the one group in the city we could count on my enemy list, not yours."
All of Hawke's friends had been gathered in her mansion, seconds from beginning the search party when Hawke had crashed through the door. Now they were arguing about how best to deal with the situation.
Hawke collapsed into her sofa and Dane immediately crawled onto her lap, coating her face in slobber.
"I should arrest them," Aveline argued. "They kidnapped and intended to murder the Champion of Kirkwall."
"That was just henchmen," Varric told her. "Trust me, you won't find any evidence linking them to the Guild."
"What about the one Hawke allowed to live?" Sebastian asked. "Surely he would testify."
"He won't live to see morning," Varric told them solemnly.
"Why not? Is he sick?" Merrill asked. "Oh, they're going to kill him, you mean."
"We cannot allow them to get away with this," Fenris snapped. "How do we find them?"
Varric sighed. "You don't want to go after the Guild, elf. The majority of them are like me, and have false identities and fake fronts that shield their involvement. The ones who don't...well, they are not the kind of people it's worth challenging."
"They've made an enemy of my sister," Carver declared. "That means they've made an enemy of me."
Lavellan spoke up, "Are you really afraid of challenging them, Varric? I'll do it for you."
Isabela laughed. "I like her," she said. "I think she just accused you of having no balls."
"Does it matter?" Hawke interrupted. "We expected someone to have a problem with our wedding. At least now we know who it is."
"You just want me to agree to allow weapons at your wedding," Aveline pointed out.
"After this, you must admit the necessity," Carver said.
Lavellan's eyes were narrowed. "Is this your plan? Wait for them to attack you again? Bring weapons to your wedding assuming they will interrupt it?"
Hawke and her friends looked at each other. Hawke shrugged. "That's sort of just how we've always done things."
"You can't argue with an extreme lack of results," Isabela added.
"It's certainly exciting, though!" Merrill enthused.
Lavellan shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered.
"Why is Isabela here?" Aveline complained.
"To see you in a dress, of course," Isabela laughed. Aveline glared.
"Hawke, these dresses are beautiful!" Merrill enthused.
"Kitten...you've got that on backwards," Isabela pointed out, helping the elf with a soft sigh.
Charade stepped out from behind the partition in Hawke's bedroom and smiled. "I agree, Cousin. They're lovely."
Having Charade in her wedding was almost like having Bethany involved. Her cousin shared the soft-spoken gentleness that Bethany had possessed; Hawke often wondered if Bethany might have also shared Charade's self-confidence had she not been born a mage.
Hawke examined her three bridesmaids. She had chosen black and blood red for her wedding colours, a choice that Merrill had been unhappy with but which amused Varric greatly.
Hawke had allowed them to choose their own dresses as long as they were one colour or the other. Aveline wore a sleeveless black dress with thick straps; her impressive arms would never have fit within the confines of anything different. She also appreciated the mobility offered, and had insisted on a slit down the side of the floor-length dress to allow her to fight if need be.
Merrill's dress was blood red and had more frills than Hawke would have thought possible. It had short sleeves and a hoop skirt that fell to just above her knees. Merrill seemed to enjoy the way the dress moved when she danced, and was captivated by her reflection in the mirror.
Charade wore a blood red strapless dress with a black bow around her waist. The skirt fell several inches beneath her knees.
"When do we get to see your dress, Cousin?" Charade asked.
Hawke sighed. "How many times must I wear the thing?"
Aveline glared. "I wore this for you."
Isabela raised an eyebrow. "You really should wear it for Donnic. If we fixed your hair, you could work at the Rose."
"Shut up, whore."
Hawke changed into her dress and when she stepped out from behind the partition her friends fell silent.
"Oh, Hawke," Merrill whispered.
"Leandra would be proud," Aveline said.
"Sweetness, Varric won't be able to look away," Isabela added.
Charade wrapped her arms around Hawke. "You look like a Princess," she said.
Hawke hugged her back tightly. This dress is for you, Bethany.
"It really is not necessary for you to wait out here, Champion," Bran informed Hawke. "When the Hero of Fereldan arrives you will be the first one informed, I assure you."
Hawke locked eyes with him and put a great deal of effort into smiling every bit as insincerely as he did. "Of course, Bran. I'm sure you wouldn't inform her that the Viscount is busy and to come back after the wedding. After all you're so fond of Fereldans."
The skin around Bran's eyes tightened with irritation and he stalked away in a huff, muttering about Dog Lords and their manners. Hawke sat down on the top of the stairs of the Viscount's Keep and Dane curled up beside her, his head in her lap.
Aveline joined her not long after Bran had left. "The Hero of Fereldan is due to arrive today, isn't she?" she asked. Hawke nodded. "Great. Another mage in the city. Just what Kirkwall needs."
Varric's voice carried to them from outside his office. "Not just any mage, Aveline: a relative of Hawke's."
"Is that meant to improve my mood, Varric?" Aveline inquired sarcastically.
Varric sat down on the steps beside Hawke, giving Aveline his most charming smile. "Improve your mood? I wouldn't dare," he teased. "Just try to avoid the urge to toss her out of the city. She is Divine Victoria's lover."
Aveline rolled her eyes. "As if I would throw out the Hero of Fereldan."
Varric opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the Viscount's Keep opened and a mabari bounded through, barking cheerfully. Dane lifted his head from Hawke's lap and stared. The two dogs locked eyes and a second later Hawke got a kick to the stomach as Dane launched himself down the steps to greet the other hound. The two dogs circled each other, barking happily.
A small woman with chestnut curls and olive skin entered the Keep after the mabari. "Toth!" she called. "Indoor voice." Her mabari lowered the volume of his barking and she smiled.
Hawke and Varric got to their feet and followed Aveline down the stairs. The woman's dazzling bright green eyes swept across the three of them and settled on Hawke. "Your mabari, I expect? What's his name?" she asked.
"Dane," Hawke answered.
The other woman smiled faintly. "How Fereldan of you."
"Why Toth?" Hawke asked.
"Ironically, I was fascinated with the Old Gods of Tevinter before I fought the Archdemon." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Valerie Amell."
Hawke shook it, noticing that they shared the calluses of one who wielded a staff. "Selena Hawke," Hawke told Valerie. "This is Varric Tethras and Aveline Vallen; the Viscount and Guard-Captain of Kirkwall."
Amell nodded and shook hands with each of them in turn. "Quite the welcome," she commented.
"It's an honour to meet you," Aveline replied. "I fought at Ostagar under King Cailan."
Amell's eyes darkened and she nodded in understanding.
"I must say," Varric said, "I was expecting more of a family resemblance between you and Hawke."
Hawke felt the same. As well as being much taller than Valerie, she was far paler. Valerie had sharp features which combined with her intense green eyes to give her a naturally dangerous look. Hawke had always thought of herself as someone who naturally appeared either dazed and confused or inappropriately amused. She needed to work to look dangerous.
"I take after my father," Amell explained to Varric. "He was Antivan."
"I'm flattered you took the time to come to our wedding," Hawke said.
Amell shrugged. "Alistair-King Alistair, that is, and Queen Anora asked me if I would be the diplomatic representation from Fereldan. Alistair wanted to give Teagan a break, and Anora worried he would not be well received after how the Exalted Council went. Also, Leli-I mean Her Holiness informed me she would be in attendance."
"So are you actually here representing Fereldan's monarchy?" Aveline asked, frowning.
"If I'm being completely honest, no," Amell admitted. "Alistair is just happy that he gets to say I'm here on behalf of Fereldan. The truth rarely matters. I can't be the only token diplomat coming to this."
Varric laughed. "I know Antiva, Tevinter and Nevarra are definitely sending theirs."
Amell smiled. "Exactly. It could be worse. I get to meet the cousin I've heard so much about and attend her wedding, while also spending some time with Leliana."
Hawke raised an eyebrow. "You've heard about me?"
Amell smirked. "Please. Who hasn't read The Tale of the Champion? Leliana got my copy signed."
