Warning: Gore and blood. Mentions of period sex.
Hawke wouldn't say she'd been taught to be a better soldier in the army. Her skills had certainly been honed in the skirmishes against darkspawn before the bulk of the hoard had invaded and decimated the troops in Ostagar. She didn't follow orders or take being told what to do well, but she played nice with others and generally got along with her superior officers. She at least knew better than to get caught disobeying or breaking regulations outright, even though the shit she got away with drove Carver absolutely up the wall. He'd been too honest and bumbling for his own good, unable to lie convincingly even to their parents to get out of trouble when they were younger.
Hawke liked that while serving under King Cailan the officers didn't try to stuff soldiers into cookie cutter molds. They didn't hand archers and mages swords and put them through drills unsuited to their skill type, instead focusing on finding and utilizing each person's best attributes, even if they were a bit unconventional like Hawke's.
Hawke had been part of a team before, but she hadn't made lasting attachments to anyone in Ferelden like she had since arriving in Kirkwall. Aveline, Isabela, Fenris, Merrill, Varric...she'd die for any one of them without question. She made acquaintances, drinking buddies, and casual fucks easily enough, though her siblings had more often than not been Hawke's only friends in Lothering, and Carver had despised her half the time.
There had been one girl, a red-haired, freckle-faced thing named Millie, whom Hawke had been more than "just friends." Millie had come from a family of farmers descended from generation after generation of farmers in Redcliffe. She picked up a bow when darkspawn started driving wolves and other predators onto their land, which in turn were killing their livestock. She'd enlisted as an archer in King Cailan's army shortly after, supplementing the unit comprised of the infamous Hawke siblings along with an older veteran named Garrund.
Garrund had already served twenty years under Loghain and didn't know anything else except war. His one failed attempt at retirement had led to the type of alcohol consumption that put Hawke's to shame, which in turn led to his wife leaving him, his daughter refusing to speak to him, and a burning desire to reclaim at least part of his glory years before either his liver gave out or the darkspawn took him.
Garrund said Millie reminded him of his daughter; she was all bright-eyed optimism and a gap-toothed smile that made Hawke swear the sun was striking her full in the face even on the most overcast days. Millie had amazing eyes that could shoot a hare from twenty paces off, at night, while hunkered down in a tree with an ill-fitting helmet slipping over her brow every few seconds. Her eyes had been an unassuming green the same shade as moss that grew on trees, but Hawke had thought them warm and pretty, especially when they danced with laughter as they most often had.
Millie had been sweet and joyful. She laughed when she came and even laughed at Carver's terrible jokes, though it was his sister that had caught her eye. She had an effortless way of soothing wounded egos, which had been a Maker-send considering the way Hawke and Carver constantly bickered on top of Garrund's old man crotchetiness, set like a brick in his ways.
She hadn't been the first woman Hawke had been with, though she'd definitely been the first Hawke had ever told about Bethany. Telling Millie that her sister was a mage had - at the time - made their fling seem like it was on its way to being pretty serious.
Millie's younger brother had been taken away to the Circle when he was five. Three fully grown, fully armed templars had torn little Tommie right out of the arms of his crying mother and led him away in cuffs right in front of his family. They never saw or heard from him again and didn't even know which Circle he'd been taken to. Her family had been forced to pretend he never existed. All that remained were the memories and the tears of her mother as she wept over his tiny bed every night. The templars hadn't even allowed him to take his favorite stuffed toy, a one-eyed, scruffy-looking mabari that he never went anywhere without.
Mille had been no bigger a fan of templars than the Hawkes were. She kept the mabari with her as a good luck charm...for all the good it did her in the end.
Millie hadn't died in the battle at Ostagar. A week before the bulk of the fighting, she had been sent out on what was supposed to be a simple scouting mission but hadn't returned by roll call. Millie had always been the one prodding Hawke to get up in the mornings and was achingly punctual, whereas Hawke was chronically late to everything. Their commanding officers hadn't been too concerned with Millie's disappearance, citing bad weather or a temporary delay, or perhaps she got side-tracked wanting to meet the Grey Warden, Duncan, and his new recruits.
Hawke had volunteered herself to go searching that evening and planned on returning before anyone noticed she was gone.
Out of the different types of darkspawn – hurlocks, shrieks, and ogres – the genlocks seemed the most unassuming. They were squat like dwarves with ugly, squashed faces, far too many teeth for their mouths, and short, stumpy legs that meant they didn't move very fast. Like most darkspawn, they wore mismatched armor cobbled together from their victims. Due to their size, they could be difficult to hit at a distance with an arrow or a throwing knife, or easily overlooked.
The first time Hawke had ever seen a genlock up close had been the night she'd gone looking for Millie. She found it hunched over a shapeless form. She mistook the sight for a boulder and a fallen log at first in the fading grey light, until she'd crept close enough to realize the log had an arm outstretched toward where Hawke was hiding behind a clump of bushes.
Four delicate fingers curled up as if beckoning her. The fifth had already been chewed off, as had most of the forearm, but Hawke recognized those fingers. She knew the warmth of them around her wrist when their owner had reflexively reached out to grab her in excitement to point out a new find; she'd felt them in her hair, on her thighs, flexing cleverly inside her while a sweet, gap-toothed grin peeked mischievously up at her over the slope of her belly.
The genlock moved, offering its unexpected witness a perfect view of one moss green eye that stared blankly ahead. It seemed to pierce right past the foliage to where Hawke crouched, frozen and horror-struck. It had taken everything in Hawke not to retch into the bushes and give away her position. The genlock gnashed the other eye between sharpened, spiteful little teeth as it callously tossed aside the arm – Millie's arm – which wasn't even attached to her body anymore.
Millie had been stripped out of her armor, pale skin splattered with dirt and blood and mottled bruising that hid her once-delightful freckles. Hawke had memorized every single one of those tiny marks, knew them better than the night sky's constellations. Millie was missing mouth-sized chunks out of her throat, her breast, her thigh; all of which Hawke had kissed only that morning while Millie had gigglingly protested with half-hearted whispers of, "shhh, your brother will hear!"
In that moment, Hawke forgot all the lessons that had been drilled into her regarding darkspawn: Where there is one darkspawn, there are usually more to follow. Do not ingest or otherwise come into contact with darkspawn blood, as the blight will prove fatal or worse. All female soldiers, regardless of rank or fighting skill, are required to arm themselves with blades no less than three inches long. Do not be taken by the darkspawn alive. Do not engage without back up. Do not engage directly if at all possible. Ranged weapons, such as the staff or bow, are advised when fighting darkspawn.
Millie had been a damned good archer, but a fat lot of good her bow had done laying a mere yard from her outstretched hand snapped in two. Millie's regulation blade was also gone from its sheath, though it hadn't gone far from its owner. The hilt of the knife jutted out from the left side of Millie's chest right over her heart. It took incredible strength to penetrate the breastbone, but an even greater strength of will to do it to oneself.
Sweet Millie, who had loved life and loved Hawke, had taken her own life before the darkspawn had taken her. It was a cold, cold comfort when it still meant she was dead.
Hawke had been overwhelmed by pain and fury and cried out her loss in an incomprehensible roar. The genlock's head snapped up, tendons and viscera caught between its teeth when it bared them in a snarl. It was armored head to toe in metal with its face the only visible part beneath a spiked helm. It spotted Hawke when she abandoned her cover and reached for her daggers.
It swallowed its mouthful and grinned at her, abandoning its meal as it stepped over Millie and lifted a heavy, two-handed axe.
Hawke didn't remember much about the fight, though her subconscious liked to surprise her with crystal-clear snippets in her dreams when she was least expecting them. She remembered the genlock had swung its axe and embedded it a tree trunk when Hawke jumped at the last second. She landed right on the flat of the blade and ran down the shaft, moving on automatic as she lashed out and kicked the genlock in the face with the steel-toed point of her boot. Its head snapped back, helmet flying off as its sunken nose cracked with a spray of blood as it bit through its tongue, though it didn't seem to notice.
It shook its head and bared its bloody, broken teeth at Hawke in a gruesome grin. The genlock ripped its axe out of the tree and Hawke quickly vaulted over its head. She stumbled on the landing and ended up kneeling in the remains of her lover, organs and limbs scattered about the forest floor. Hawke had been transfixed, numb despite the scream building up in her chest. She happened to catch a reflection off one of her daggers and rolled to the side just in time for the genlock's axe to come down, splitting Millie's belly like a melon and spilling out her guts and intestines like the unfurling of a flower's bloom.
The scream tore its way free as Hawke spun and jammed her dagger into the genlock's eye just as it was preparing a second swing. The genlock bellowed, no doubt calling any nearby darkspawn to the area. Hawke yanked the blade out and stabbed it through the genlock's other yellow, bloodshot eye, wanting to make it pay for what it'd done to Millie. She wanted to make it hurt and suffer as Millie had, but the crash of footsteps and growls through the underbrush as at least three more darkspawn approached forced her to abandon her drawn-out revenge.
The genlock didn't deserve the quick death Hawke had given it by slitting its throat. She had no time to take Millie, instead forced to leave her body to be picked off by scavengers. She ran in a flat-out sprint back to camp and didn't stop until she stood outside of the officers' tent, panting and dry heaving. When they managed to calm her down Hawke gave a hollow, dead-eyed report to her lieutenant, not caring if she was reprimanded for abandoning her post. She remembered returning to her and Millie's tent afterward without saying a word to her frantic brother even though Carver had been ready to go off looking for them both.
She curled up on their shared bedroll and buried her face in Millie's stuffed mabari that still smelled like her as she quietly fell apart. There would be nothing to return to Millie's family, only empty apologies, tooth-scarred bones, and a one-eyed mabari a little boy had named Snowflake.
Hawke hadn't had a lover since, just a string of meaningless fucks. She was good at sex. Sex was easy. When feelings got involved, however, was when things went to shit.
In all of Hawke's previous relationships, she'd ended things when either party showed signs of involving feelings in what should have been no-strings-attached fun. Hawke had undoubtedly left a fair share of broken hearts in her wake. Isabela had thankfully been of the same mindset and cut things off when Hawke started keeping more of an eye on her in fights than covering her own ass – a decision Hawke appreciated even if it had stung at the time.
Varric had completely fucked up her process when Hawke hadn't been paying attention. She'd fallen in love with him long before they'd ever had sex and he had blown past every single one of her defenses. They were woven so tightly together that she didn't know where Varric began and she ended sometimes, and that thought terrified her.
He had a ridiculous amount of leverage over, her but never acknowledged that fact or held it against her. Meanwhile, Hawke exploited him shamelessly every chance she got whether it was using him as back up in a fight, taking advantage of his endless connections, his bed, his bath, his company...
There seemed to be no end to what he was willing to give her - up to and including his own life. Hawke knew she should break things off before they became too essential to each other. Better she suffer the pain of a severed limb now and cut her losses than have her heart ripped out of her chest when she finally asked for more than what he was willing to give, or he got himself killed trying to protect her.
Hawke wasn't a good person by any means. Because if she was, she would have let him go by now or at least never found him a way into the Deep Roads where he could end up in the hands of darkspawn.
She hadn't thought about Millie in a long time, but on her way to meet up with Bartrand to bring him the Deep Roads maps, those memories flared anew as if determined to make her second guess her decision to join Varric and Bartrand's expedition. All those months of busting her ass to come up with the money to fund her half, all that time getting to know Varric, falling for him and doing everything in her power to make sure he achieved his dream…
Now, she was getting cold feet?
Hawke and Varric tracked down Bartrand to Hightown's merchant district, though Hawke never saw him sell any wares. If he was anything like Varric then he probably made his coin from dealing in secrets and politics and questionable connections – the kind of shit that went way over Hawke's head. He was a little friendlier after Hawke had given him fifty sovereigns to fund the expedition, though she still didn't look forward to her interactions with him.
"Still looking for our Deep Roads entrance. Any progress, partner?" Bartrand asked with a smile that looked like it pained him.
"These might be what we need," Hawke said, reaching into her borrowed coat pocket and showing him the maps that Anders had given her. She thought Bartrand's pale eyes would bug out of his head.
"What's this? Three...four entrances into the Deep Roads, all in the Free Marches?" he said while scanning the parchment rapidly. "Where did you get these?"
"A little birdy told us," Hawke said smugly.
"You got the feather part right, at least," Varric said before he answered Bartrand. "Didn't I tell you we could find a Grey Warden? Mother didn't raise a fool. Well...she didn't raise two of them."
"Well, color me astounded! We just pick the most promising one and go!" Bartrand paced back and forth like he couldn't contain his excitement. He quickly collected himself and told Hawke, "Time to wrap up any business you have in the city, my friend. We'll be gone for several weeks at least."
"I have a few things I need to take care of first, but I should be ready to go in a few days."
"Perfect. That'll give me time to send out scouts and get the wagons ready. Let me know as soon as you're ready and we'll head out."
"I can't believe we're really doing this," Varric breathed out, shaking his head in awe as they left Bartrand to his preparations while they did some of their own. "Bartrand and I have been planning this expedition for years. It's hard to believe we're actually going through with it. And it's all thanks to you, Hawke."
"Don't thank me yet. Who knows what we'll find down there - if there's anything to find, other than darkspawn and a whole bunch of rocks."
"There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. If we time things right it won't be anything more than me, you, and about a dozen or so of Bartrand's hired hands can't handle. The treasure we find down there could set you and your family up for life."
"And I suppose you're only going for the scenery?"
"I can't let the head of my house go into the Deep Roads alone. Someone's got to watch Bartrand's back and if I happen to take a little profit back with me... Well, I am a businessman, after all."
"All right, businessman. Let's see if you can get me a good deal on some new equipment since you apparently burned or auctioned off my last set of armor."
Hawke was growing rather fond of Varric's too big, too short coat despite how ridiculous it looked on her and how handsome it looked on him. If she ever borrowed one of his tunics the deep 'v' of his collar would likely leave most of her chest exposed and dip down to her navel. Which was a thought…
"Sweetheart, you don't even want to know what the state of your armor was by the time we finally got you to Anders. Trust me. I did you a favor by getting rid of it."
"Did I piss myself when I was unconscious or something?"
"Or something…" Varric said so effusively that Hawke gave an outraged shout and tried to smack him as he ducked away laughing.
Petrice's money was burning a hole in her pocket and Hawke had quite a bit shopping to do in the market. They stopped at an armorer's stall first to get her fitted for new gear since leathers would take the longest to have adjusted or custom-made, and they would be the most expensive purchase. She also put in an order for new boots and a thigh holster for her throwing knives, which she'd come pick up in a couple days.
She was left with two whole sovereigns so Hawke also bought a few things she'd been desperately needing such as oil cloths, trousers, shirts, socks, and a new injury kit since she'd bled all over the last one. Caught up in the rush of having a heavy coin purse, she also splurged on mabari treats, a small jade hairpin for Bethany as a belated birthday gift, and – to Varric's instant delight – new underthings for herself as well. She set him loose upon a poor young woman selling intimates and perfumes and he'd come back with an armful of lace and silk and the most self-satisfied grin she had ever seen.
The fact that the woman probably thought him an enormous pervert put a grin on Hawke's face. Or at least until she finally counted the remaining contents of her coin purse. The seven gold sovereigns Hawke received for smuggling Ketojan out to the Wounded Coast had been in her possession for less than a day and evaporated like mist. She only had forty-five silvers left to her name and wished she had curbed Varric's last spending spree a bit, even though she owed him more than she could ever repay.
It had been worth it to put that smile on his face.
Her last stop was at the herbalist, Solivitus' stall. Hawke had been meaning to stock up on elfroot and stamina draughts, but the state of her coin purse rearranged her priorities. Usually, Sol had a few jobs for her and she should have time to collect a few ingredients for as long as it wasn't something obscure. It would just be her luck if he needed a flower that could only be found in an ancient elvhen graveyard under the light of a half moon on the third Wednesday of the month or some shit like that. Hawke had enough of arcane horrors from her last visit to a gravesite to last her a lifetime.
"I'm not currently running low on ingredients, Serah Hawke, but if you happen to find yourself in Sundermount I've been dying to get my hands on some ironbark," Solivitus said after they exchanged greetings. "I heard it's nearly impossible to get the Dalish to part with any, which is unfortunate. But other than that, what can I do for you?"
"Actually," Hawke said, scratching at the flaking kaddis on the bridge of her nose that she would also have to buy more of soon. "I came for, uh…a refill? Of my last order? Enough to last a couple months, at least."
Hawke had to restrain herself from blushing when Sol uttered a soft, surprised "oh!" and gave Hawke's curious companion an inappropriately thrilled smile. Sol went about bottling up the potion for her without any further explanation needed. Hawke thought she would escape free and clear without having to answer any awkward questions…until Sol came back with her purchase and cleared his throat with a very firm expression in place.
"Now remember, serah. For the potion to be effective, you need only add a few drops to your tea in the morning. If you forget, then a dose right before sexual intercourse will be sufficient in order to prevent unwanted pregnancies. You may experience slight cramping or irregular cycles at first, but birthbane is safe for long-term use. And if you decide you and your gentleman ever wish to conceive, then simply cease taking the potion. If you or Master Tethras have any questions or concerns, I would be more than happy to answer them for you."
Varric froze. Hawke's face went scarlet as she desperately tried to look anywhere else except at him.
"On second thought," she said, voice pinched. "Do you have any deathroot or nightshade instead? Anything that will kill me quickly. Preferably now."
"I…don't understand?" Solivitus said with an uncertain smile.
"Ignore her, Sol. We're good here." Varric shook himself off and stepped in smoothly, reaching for his coin purse before Hawke could. "How much will it be? It's only fair since she's taking it for my sake."
"Truly a noble gesture, serah! That'll be fifty silvers."
The price was exorbitant but considering the high demand, especially for young noblewomen in Hightown, Hawke really couldn't fault Sol for his markups. She would've had to haggle him down at any rate or tried to make due with a limited supply. Her stomach twinged, wondering how she was going to afford to buy this stuff regularly.
Despite what Varric said about the birthbane being for his benefit, she didn't feel right letting him buy it for her. Hawke's body was her own, as was made very apparent to her only that morning by the inconvenient start of her monthly cycle. She thanked the Maker Varric had utterly ridiculous red silk sheets which needed to be laundered anyway after their night with Isabela. She didn't think he had noticed, but Hawke had been mortified.
She made an excuse of being sore from the previous night when she wriggled out of his sleepy embrace, complete with morning wood poking her in the small of her back. Fortunately, Isabela had extra strips of linen for such occasions in her room and hadn't returned from her "date" yet. Hawke had been able to slip out before Varric was fully awake, clean up, and get the situation handled without having to run all the way to Gamlen's with everyone knowing her business.
At least she knew for certain she wasn't pregnant. The point was to keep it that way.
"I will get this packaged for you right away, serah," Sol said, smile back in full force as Varric handed the money over. "Please come visit again for any of your apothecary needs. And don't forget the ironbark!"
"Not. One. Word," Hawke grit out through her teeth as she snatched the potion and all but ran away from Sol's stall. Varric was right on her heels despite his short legs and the ridiculous amount of bags he was carrying with Hawke's other purchases.
"Not a one!" Varric promised and lied in the same breath. His face was red and his shoulders shook with the effort not to laugh out loud.
"I'm glad this is so entertaining for you," Hawke snapped, stopping and turning on him so abruptly that he bumped into her and lost his grip on the bags, including the one bursting with her new underthings. At least Hawke had been holding the birthbane potion when he dropped everything else, but lacy smallclothes and brassieres exploded all over the ground, cementing her mortification as passersby gawked at the spectacle.
"Perhaps I should castrate you myself and save us both the trouble," she growled, feeling perilously close to tears as he stood there staring stupidly at her with her now dirtied personals at their feet.
She felt justifiably raw and brittle at the moment and couldn't stand the thought of him making fun of her for this. She already wasn't the greatest at remembering to take the potion consistently, which was one more thing to worry about on top of a giant pile of other shit. She hadn't exactly needed to take birthbane before she and Varric had started fucking, and Isabela wasn't likely to get her knocked up. It took everything in Hawke not to pull away and start walking again when Varric sobered up instantly and reached out to touch her arm.
"I'm sorry, Hawke. I promise I wasn't making fun of you. It's just so rare to catch you flat-footed… I wasn't even thinking about anything else," he said, ducking his chin to look up at her. "I know things have been moving pretty fast between us and we haven't exactly gotten a chance to discuss…certain things."
"Can we not?" she begged, heart stutter-stopping in her chest. "At least…not right now."
She and Varric had pretty much established they were in this for the long haul and willing to be exclusive, but actually talking about their future together was another matter entirely. She always figured she'd get married and have children eventually, but that was more of an abstract idea pushed on her by her mother and Bethany. A working pair of ovaries didn't exactly make one suitable for motherhood – as anyone not related to Hawke, and therefore biased, could attest.
"Are you staying over tonight?" he asked uncertainly as he knelt to begin stuffing items back in their bags.
She couldn't blame him for his hesitation, especially after he'd bought her ridiculously skimpy and highly impractical underthings, as well as enough birthbane to fossilize a bronto's womb. It was too bad Hawke's womb alternately wanted to punch things and eat everything in sight.
"Sorry, but I'll be at home this week bleeding out and avoiding blood mages before any catch me in a dark alley and decide to use me in a ritual."
"Wait, what?" Varric said, complete with a double-take as he dropped the bags and stood up, grabbing her wrists to check her over. "Bleeding out? Are you hurt? Do we need to go back to Anders?"
"You can't be this obtuse," Hawke groaned. Surely, he wasn't going to make her spell it out for him.
"Hey," Varric said, sounding wounded. "Sorry if I missed the memo on you bleeding to death. What the fuck, Hawke?"
Hawke laughed a sharp, pitchy sound that made Varric look even more concerned. He really was going to make her say it.
"It's that time of the month, Varric. I'm sorry if it inconveniences your plans for tonight, but Lady Labia is out of commission until further notice. You'll just have to make your reservations with Messere Five-Fingers."
Hawke was expecting Varric to blanch or pull away or make declarations of disgust. She was used to dealing with guys who had the maturity level of a mongoose, which honestly wasn't much better than her own. After their father died, Carver had been the only male in a household of women whose cycles had fallen around different times of the month. Hawke really couldn't blame her brother for being bitter, especially when he'd never been able to anticipate when she, Bethany, or Leandra would snap or burst into tears at any moment. He'd probably gotten so good at swordwork because he spent more time outside hacking away at trees with his practice sword than at home dealing with three hormonal Hawke women. It was no wonder Gamlen was always out getting drunk at the Rose.
"Is that all?" Varric said, relaxing. "Sweetheart, after all the blood we've spilled you can't seriously think I care about that. I mean, if you don't want to that's fine. But don't keep yourself from orgasms on my account."
Hawke stared at him. "You can't possibly be that hard up."
"Well, we are in Hightown," Varric cracked, but cleared his throat when Hawke narrowed her eyes. "Hawke, I can do math. One week out of four each month is a pretty good bet it'd come up sooner or later. The whole..." he gestured toward her hips, "lady bits and all they involve aren't exactly new to me. All I'm saying is I don't mind a little blood if you don't."
"It's not just a little blood, Varric. It's a fucking massacre in my pants. I probably ruined one pair of your sheets already."
Hawke didn't have that much blood to spare to begin with and she could already tell she was going to be poor company. As big an ass Varric could be sometimes, he didn't deserve to have her bite his head off for no reason, especially when she'd usually be laughing and joking right alongside with him.
"I don't know if you remember or not, since it was so long ago, but we somehow used to manage hanging out together before sex was even an option. But if you're not feeling up to it, then I completely understand. At least let me help you bring all this stuff back to Gamlen's and then I'll get out of your hair. You won't ever hurt my feelings if you decide you need space for a while, sweetheart."
She flushed, hating the way he could make her feel like a complete asshole with only a look or a few words. Not that she couldn't make herself feel like a complete asshole all on her own. Logically, she knew having sex every day wouldn't be sustainable even before the shiny lacquer on their brand new relationship faded; however, when she stayed late into the evening at the Hanged Man it was pretty much a given that she would be going to bed with him. Even though they'd been together more often than not over the past year, Varric still had his own life. Sometimes Hawke would go days or even weeks without seeing him, but that never stopped them from picking up right where they'd left off whenever they did manage to meet up again.
"I should probably spend time with my family before we leave with Bartrand. I don't even know how long we'll be gone, and if anything happens while we're down there…" Hawke said reluctantly.
Varric raised his hand, eyes soft with understanding. "Say no more. It's not fair of me to monopolize you all the time, even though there's nothing that I'd love more than to spend every day with you. I'm sure Leandra and Sunshine miss you. Actually, it's probably a good idea to give them a heads up since, knowing Bartrand, we'll be leaving sooner rather than later."
Hawke bit her lip to avoid responding and ducked down to help him collect their scattered merchandise. She wanted Varric to keep her. She didn't want to go back to Gamlen's cold, unwelcoming house and her creaky old bunk bed. She wasn't looking forward to arguing with Leandra or enduring Bethany's sad eyes and pleas to let her help, even though she was barely back on her feet from the last time Hawke had let her come along on a job.
Varric, in his role as best boyfriend ever, sprung and bought her the cinnamon and butter pastries Hawke had been craving for what felt like forever. Which, in hindsight, was probably a good indicator that her cycle had been due to start. He only teased her a little for inhaling four out of the dozen pastries before they'd even left Hightown, arms laden with their purchases. Hawke was the thinnest she'd ever been after subsiding on a mostly liquid diet for so long. She half suspected Varric was making it his personal mission to fatten her up before the Deep Roads expedition. They were going to have to take all of their provisions with them due to the risk of contracting the blight from eating anything they found down there.
They made it back to the slums unaccosted and sat on the steps outside of Gamlen's to enjoy the rest of their pastries. Hawke could hear Snowflake whining pitifully from inside the house, but she had absolutely no sympathy for the chunky beast despite having bought him treats of his own. She knew better than to let him out when there was food of any kind around.
Hawke switched to eating with her left hand when Varric intertwined his honey-sticky fingers with her own. She had trained herself to be ambidextrous once she started wielding dual daggers, though her handwriting with either hand literally wasn't anything to write home about. In fact, her penmanship seemed to physically pain Varric whenever he had to decipher her writing, so he would be sorely disappointed if he was expecting to receive love letters from her anytime soon.
"Serah Hawke?"
A gangly scrap of a boy appeared before Hawke as if that thought had summoned him, holding out a letter to her in his grubby hands. If it was an actual love letter from a secret admirer, Hawke was going to enjoy reading it out loud at an inappropriately loud volume for Varric's benefit.
"That's me."
"I've a letter for ye."
The boy passed the envelope over to Hawke, who took it and flipped it over to inspect the wax seal on the back, which wasn't one she recognized.
"Who's that from?" Varric asked.
"Dunno, Messere. I'm just the messenger."
Hawke shrugged. "It's probably from one of my many secret admirers. I'll toss it in the pile with the dozen or so others I've gotten this week."
The boy didn't leave right away, eyeing the bag of pastries sitting between Hawke and Varric hopefully. Varric had purchased the promised sacks of rice along with flour and barley for Anders' Darktown urchins. The food had been delivered to Lurine's Fereldan Imports since Lurine was the one who had connected them to Anders in the first place. She would probably know best how to distribute the supplies so it reached the right people.
Even so, Hawke watched balefully as her hand lifted of its own accord and passed the bag over to the boy, who took it and disappeared before she could change her mind. She sighed before returning to the envelope and breaking the seal.
"I understand you're in dire need of some coin. If that's true, I believe I have a proposition that you simply will not be able to refuse. Look for me at night near the foundries in Lowtown.
—Dougal"
Hawke clenched her jaw and stared at the letter.
She had no idea who Dougal was or why he felt the need to contact her, even if he did know how to use the word 'proposition' correctly. Was she really so hard up that even complete strangers noticed and felt the need to say something? Offering her a job based on her skills or reputation was one thing, especially since nothing came for free in this city, but Hawke questioned the legitimacy of the sender especially if he wanted to meet in Lowtown's foundries at night.
If she hadn't managed to pull the money together for Bartrand's expedition already, then she might have been desperate enough to investigate. Though, a part of her was tempted to see what Dougal had to say for himself. The expedition would be much more comfortable with a little extra coin and it would also ensure Leandra and Bethany had enough to survive on for a while.
Maker…she hadn't even thought of that.
Bethany could find work easily enough with her own reputation - as long as she kept her magic under wraps and managed to evade templar scrutiny. Already too many people knew she was a mage from when they'd been working for Meeran, and the Red Iron no longer offered their protection ever since the Hawke sisters' contract had ended. She let Varric pry the letter from her fingers and then clasped her hands between her knees tightly, staring off into the distance with the muscle in her jaw jumping.
"Well," he said after skimming the letter and then taking his time with the second read through, "at least your admirer's offering to pay you for your services. Mine threaten me with bodily harm if I miss my writing deadlines."
"Do you have any idea who this guy is?"
"Actually, I do. Dougal's one of my dear brother's ex-partners. They had a falling out when Bartrand refused to let him invest in the expedition. I thought he'd been run out of town, but it appears Dougal is more ambitious than I gave him credit for especially if he's seeking you out as a means to get in on the venture."
Well, at least that ruled out the possibility of Hawke being a charity case, which lowered her hackles somewhat. "Do you trust him?"
"Hard to say. Dougal's never done me any harm, but he's as sour a bastard as my brother without the family connection to make it easier to swallow. Do what you like, Hawke. I came to you, not to him."
"So that line about you preferring breasts over beards...?"
"All true," he swore, resting a hand over his heart with a grin. "Believe me, if you saw Dougal you'd have picked you over him, too."
"That's too bad, Varric. You might have missed out on meeting your soulmate, if only you didn't have standards."
"I'd say I have pretty high standards, Hawke."
"And I feel like I'm only setting you up for a terribly cheesy line, so I'm going to cut you off right there."
"Are you sure? I had a really good one lined up. Something about your eyes being like bumblebees flying into the window of my soul."
"I can't believe you! You stole that from a drunk who tried to hit on Isabela at the Hanged Man. If you're going to attempt to woo me, at least be original. You can't have gotten this comfortable in our relationship already, Varric."
"I'd like to see you do any better. If you wanted romance on the fly then I'm afraid you picked the wrong dwarf."
"Hm. Maybe I should go see Dougal after all..."
Varric crumpled up the letter in his hands before tossing it over his shoulder.
"You don't need a guy like that. You funded your half of the expedition all on your own, Hawke. The one thing I can say about Dougal is that he knows how to grab an opportunity when he sees one. I'm not surprised in the least that he considers you to be a good investment."
"And I thought you said you weren't a romantic," Hawke teased when Varric claimed her hand back for himself and kissed the honey from her fingertips.
"You must have misheard. You should see the piles of love letters I have back in my room. I hide them in a trunk so you don't weep with jealousy."
His eyes flashed with wicked humor as he glanced up from her hand, lips curved in a smile that made Hawke want to bite him or kiss him breathless. She was actually considering taking him up on his offer from earlier if he really meant it about not minding a bit of blood. That thought was put on screeching hold when the front door to Gamlen's opened and Snowflake came barreling out.
"Snowflake! No!"
Hawke and Varric broke apart with twin exclamations of disgust when the mabari slurped both of their faces in greeting before perking up and diving right into the shopping bags they had set aside. He stuck his head through the handle of one of the bags and was crunching on his treats when Hawke tried to lunge for him. Snowflake yipped and darted out of her grasp, bolting down the street with the bag full of Hawke's undergarments wrapped around his neck as a trail of smallclothes and brassieres streamed out behind him.
"Oh, Maker, Marian! I am so sorry!" Bethany as she came running out of the house, her hands pressed to her face as the three of them watched Snowflake fade into the distance, along with Hawke's unmentionables. "He was whining at the door so I thought he needed to relieve himself. I didn't realize you'd gotten back."
"Hi, Sunshine," Varric said, trying and failing to hide his laughter even when Hawke jabbed him with her elbow. "You're looking much better."
"Hello, Varric. I am feeling much better. I didn't get a chance to thank you for the party the other day, but it was incredibly thoughtful of you."
"Think nothing of it. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
"I'm sorry again for Snowflake. I hope whatever he took wasn't terribly import—" Bethany bent to pick up a scrap of cloth from the ground and froze with a pair of lacy red knickers held between her hands. Her cheeks colored to match once she realized what they were. "…Oh dear."
Hawke could see the tumblers falling into place as Bethany glanced between Hawke and Varric with dawning realization. Hawke reached up to snatch the smalls out of her sister's hands and stuff them down her shirt – for all the good that did her when the rest of her knickers were now probably scattered all over Lowtown.
Either Isabela or a bunch of lonely, perverted men were going to think they'd won the lottery that day.
"Don't say it, Bethy," Hawke groaned, but it was too late.
"Sister! You and Varric!" Bethany had a smile that threatened to split her face and pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were now a soft, delighted pink.
"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. Or the mabari is," Varric said, not looking upset at being found out in the slightest. In fact, he reached out to take Hawke's hand in between his own and said in a very serious tone to Bethany, "I think you're old enough now that we can tell you, Sunshine. You should know that your sister and I care very deeply for each other and I—"
"Oh, fuck off!" Hawke yelped, laughing despite herself as she yanked her hand away and slapped it over his mouth, her own cheeks hot enough to burn. "You are so full of shit!"
"So…you're not together then?" Bethany said, sounding so honestly disappointed that Hawke's hand dropped away as she stared at her. "I don't mean to stick my nose in, but it's just that he makes you so happy, Marian. Ever since Carver told me about Millie, I had worried that…well. Never mind. It's silly."
"Please share with the class, Sunshine. No, really," Varric said when Bethany started to protest.
He captured Hawke's hand again like the shameless rogue he was, but she didn't have the heart to pull away this time. She was more than done with hiding and Bethany only ever wanted what was best for others.
Bethany looked between them a moment before giving in. She sat down on the step next to Hawke and took her other hand so that she was now pinned in by Varric and Bethany on either side of her. Hawke was seriously choking down some fight or flight instincts, but her resolve weakened when Bethany rested her cheek against Hawke's shoulder and Varric scooted in close enough that their thighs brushed.
"You deserve to be happy more than anyone else I know, sister," Bethany said softly, her breath warm against Hawke's collarbone. "I know you've never believed it, but you couldn't be more wrong."
"See, Hawke. That's what I've been saying all along. Maybe coming from Sunshine you'll actually listen."
Bethany picked her head up and glared at Varric from across Hawke. "You will take care of my sister." It was very clearly a threat and not a request.
"I swear on my mother's grave, Sunshine," Varric said solemnly, drawing a cross over his heart with a finger.
"I have no idea what either of you is talking about," Hawke said, trying and failing at indifference.
"What are you three up to?" Gamlen demanded. Hawke hadn't seen him coming up the street but he scowled at Bethany, Hawke, and Varric blocking the stairs to his house. "Never mind. I don't want to know."
Oddly enough, his scowl vanished as he tromped up the stairs. He had his hands in his pockets and actually started whistling. Hawke really, really didn't want to know, especially since he'd probably just come from the Blooming Rose. Still, she couldn't help but ask, "What's got you in such a good mood?"
Gamlen looked around them as if concerned that he might be overheard. "Not that it's any of your business," he said, clearly bursting to tell someone his news, "but I recently came into possession of a lady's…favor."
"A what?" Hawke blinked in confusion.
Gamlen's scowl returned. Impatiently, he snatched his hand out of his pocket and waved a scrap of brightly-colored fabric in her face. It took Hawke way too long to realize it was a pair of her smalls in Gamlen's hand. Varric made a sound like he was dying but covered it up behind a fit of coughs.
"Right?" Gamlen said smugly, mistaking Varric's reaction. "Now, if you three have nothing better to do than loiter on my doorstep..."
Hawke and Varric leaned apart so Gamlen could step between them, but Bethany was wrapped around her arm, silently having fits. Hawke was already going to have to scrub her brain, but then Gamlen raised the knickers to his nose, breathing in deeply, and she realized she was going to have to set her brain on fire. She muffled a gag and even Varric looked slightly green.
Gamlen shut the front door behind him and the three of them sat in shock for several minutes, trying and failing not to imagine what Gamlen might be doing - unknowingly - to a pair of his niece's smalls.
"I'm not going to be the one to tell him," Bethany whispered into Hawke's shoulder with a horrified giggle, breaking the silence.
"Not it!" Varric seconded, touching a finger to the tip of his nose.
Hawke groaned. "There is no bloody way I'm bringing it up either. I am going to have to give myself a lobotomy now."
"On the bright side, you didn't actually wear them?" Varric said.
"Well, I'm definitely not now."
"…Damn," Varric sighed, his mirth fading all at once.
"You two are so adorable!" Bethany exclaimed breathlessly, reaching out to squeeze Hawke and Varric's hands. She was so honestly happy for them that Hawke didn't have the heart to protest.
When Bethany let their hands go and sat back, Hawke slung her arms around their shoulders and pulled them in closer. Bethany cuddled up happily and Hawke turned her head to press her lips against Bethany's soft, sweet-smelling hair. Varric rested his hand on Hawke's thigh and leaned against her, his thumb stroking gentle circles along the side of her knee. Hawke closed her eyes and lifted her face toward the sky. She wished she could capture this moment and pull it out whenever she forgot what – or who - she was doing this all for.
Everything would change with the Deep Roads expedition. How could it not? Hawke would either find her fortune or her death down there, and only the Maker knew which one it would be.
They sat on the steps until tiny pinpricks of light appeared in the distance as the lantern boys started making their rounds as evening approached. Snowflake came trotting back around dinnertime however many hours later. He was missing the bag but had a pair of Hawke's smalls tangled around his head. All Hawke could see was his snout, one eye, and one of his pointed ears that stuck out through a leg hole. Hawke was tempted to leave him that way, but his pitiful whimpers broke Bethany first and she reached out to tug the garment off his head.
"Do you want these back?"
"No," Hawke said at the same time Varric said, "Yes!"
Hawke looked at him askance. "I don't even want to know where these ones have been. If you want them so badly, then you wear them."
"Fine," Varric said, taking the scrap of silky blue cloth from Bethany. "Then I will."
Bethany and Hawke stared at him. Hawke's brain went to a completely different place than it had when Gamlen walked off with another pair. She cocked her head and said, "Huh," considering him.
"No way, Hawke. You're the one who said…how'd you put it? I'm stuck with Messere Five-Fingers the rest of this week."
"I did say that, didn't I?" Hawke groaned. "Is it too late to take it back?"
"Yep," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Besides, isn't there something you need to discuss with Sunshine?"
"What? She already knows we're together."
Hawke was more than happy to play dumb, but at his look she relented. It wasn't as if Bethany wouldn't find out about the expedition sooner or later. "Fine. Andraste's ass, you're pushy."
"You love it."
Varric kissed her again, except on the lips that time which made Bethany sigh and Hawke flush when he pulled back with a smug, rakish grin. Hawke shoved him away with a scowl. "All right. Get out of here, dwarf."
"Ladies. Snowflake. Take care," Varric said.
"We will. You too, Varric," Bethany said with a little wave as Snowflake let his tongue hang out in a happy grin.
Varric winked at them and started whistling as he all but skipped down the stairs, one hand in his pocket and the other twirling the blue knickers around on a finger. Hawke groaned, shaking her head.
"Forget everything I said earlier, Bethany. Clearly, I have terrible taste in men."
Hawke leaned back, resting against Snowflake who walked around to lie down behind them with his head on his paws. The bags with the rest of her purchases were all over the place but she didn't really care as long as the potion Varric had bought for her was still intact. She couldn't afford to buy more on short notice. She rustled around in one of the bags and found the jade hairpin that she had bought for Bethany.
"What's this for? You already got me a birthday present," Bethany said when Hawke held the gift out to her. She flicked the end of her red scarf but let Hawke put the pin in her hair and flushed with pleasure.
"Varric got you that. I…forgot," Hawke admitted with a cringe.
To her relief, Bethany just laughed. "I suspected as much. I think this was the first year you didn't get me socks. I was a little disappointed, actually. But I don't blame you for forgetting, especially when you've had so many other things on your mind. These past two years have been…"
Millie's death. Fleeing Lothering. Carver's death. Working for Meeran. Coming up with funds for the expedition. Keeping Bethany safe.
"…Yeah."
"So what was it you needed to tell me?"
After coming clean about Bethany's birthday present, Hawke hoped it might ease the shock when she said, "Varric and I took Anders' maps to Bartrand today. We leave for the Deep Roads in a few days."
Bethany perked up, eyes wide. "That's so soon! Oh Maker, I haven't even packed yet. What should I—"
"You're not coming, Bethy. And neither is Snowflake. I can't risk either of you with the darkspawn." Both Bethany and Snowflake made the same whine of protest, but Hawke held up her hand, not willing to be moved by either of them. "It's not just you. I won't be taking Merrill, Aveline, or Isabela either."
"You've never believed in gender roles, Marian," Bethany said angrily. "What is this really about?"
"Darkspawn are...well. You saw what they did to Aveline's husband. And to Carver. Compared to what they do to women of a childbearing age, their deaths were a mercy. I'm not about to put you or the others in that kind of danger."
"But you'll risk yourself?"
"I know what's at stake, Bethany. I'm willing to take those risks if it means we can have the kind of life Mother and Father always wanted for us. I'm tired of having to depend on Gamlen or people like Meeran for anything. We deserve so much better," Hawke said, taking Bethany's hands in her own.
"Getting back the estate for Mother is just as much your responsibility as it is mine," Bethany said.
"I need you to stay here and take care of her and Gamlen. Don't worry, Bethy. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."
"I doubt that," Bethany said, tears in her eyes as she pulled Hawke into a hard hug and whispered in her ear. "Be careful, Marian. You're my favorite sister, after all."
"I'm your only sister," she protested but hugged Bethany tighter. When she finally pulled back she leveled a stern finger at Snowflake. "You take care of her, understand? Eat as many templars as you need to-"
"Marian!"
"Just kidding," Hawke laughed, but the second Bethany looked away she growled under her breath. "I am not kidding, Snowflake. You'd better be pooping templar livers by the time I get back if anyone comes after her."
Snowflake barked twice and hunkered down like he was going to pounce, wiggling his hind end.
"Good boy."
They went inside with Hawke's bags and she started putting together her pack while Bethany 'helped' – which more or less involved her sitting on their bunk and handing things over to Hawke from her trunk while looking mulish.
"Oh! What's this?" Bethany said, pulling out the sock that Hawke had stuffed with the necklace Varric gave her. "My missing birthday present after all?"
Hawke snatched it out of her hands, heart pounding. Bethany looked startled and then hurt. Hawke grimaced at her own automatic reaction and reluctantly handed the sock back to Bethany.
"Varric…ah…gave me that. On your birthday, actually."
"I'd wondered what took you two so long in here," Bethany teased. "Now I know you—oh Maker, Marian!"
Bethany opened the box and stared down at the necklace, utterly dumbfounded. Hawke peeked at it and winced. It looked even more opulent then the last time she saw it, if that was even possible. She didn't know what Varric had been thinking. Hawke couldn't be trusted to keep track of her own knickers, much less a priceless family heirloom.
"He said it didn't match his eyes," Hawke said off-handedly as she glanced away, but she wasn't fooling either of them.
"May I?"
"Knock yourself out."
Bethany lifted the necklace out carefully and watched in awe as candlelight fractured off the sapphires, casting dancing lights over her face. "This is beautiful," she breathed, as if speaking above a whisper would turn the damn thing into dust. "It looks really old, too."
"He didn't say where he'd gotten it, but I assume it's probably been in his family for a while."
"Marian!" Bethany exclaimed. "This is… This is serious, isn't it? You and Varric?"
"He didn't propose, if that's what you're thinking," Hawke scoffed.
Bethany set the necklace back down carefully in the box, smoothing out the links before closing the lid and looking at her keenly. "Are you certain about that? This isn't something you give a friend just because, even if you are sleeping together."
"Andraste's ass, Bethany. Quit reading into it." Hawke snatched the box away and stuffed it back into the sock before tossing it – carefully – into the trunk. "It was a gift. Or, knowing Varric, a very expensive prank just to get me riled up."
"It seems to have worked, sister."
"Are you helping me pack or what?"
Hawke refused to speak any more about it, but her eyes keep darting back to the trunk so many times that Bethany heaved an exasperated sigh and took her pack away from her. She sorted out Hawke's mess and repacked everything neatly herself.
Maker… What had been Varric thinking?
When Leandra came home Hawke gave her the purse with the remaining forty-five silvers before she ended up spending or losing it. It would have to be enough until Bethany found work. Perhaps Hawke could find a few less risky jobs for her before she left. Bethany would have better luck obtaining ironbark for Sol than Hawke anyway. She knew how to talk to people whereas Hawke thrived off of sarcasm and violence. If anyone could convince the Dalish - who were a secluded and highly mistrustful race - to part with a coveted resource, it would be Bethany.
"Do you have any idea when you'll return?" Leandra asked worriedly, clutching the purse to her chest. "I know you've been talking about this expedition for ages, but are you really certain going down into the Deep Roads is wise?"
"No. I'm pretty sure it's the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life, which is saying a lot."
"Please be careful, Marian. I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen to you."
"You'll be fine, Mother. I'll ask Aveline to post a few extra patrols around the area and Bethany, Snowflake, and Gamlen will all be here with you."
"I still don't like the idea of you leaving, but I suppose you'll do what you want no matter what I say," Leandra sighed as she tucked the coin purse away. "Speaking of Gamlen, where is your uncle? I'm about to get dinner started."
"He's in his room. I, er, wouldn't disturb him," Hawke said quickly when Leandra started walking toward Gamlen's door. "He's in one of his moods."
Hawke didn't want her mother traumatized if she walked in on Gamlen doing unmentionable things to a pair of women's lacy smallclothes if she could help it. Just the thought made her queasy.
"Actually," Hawke said, pressing a hand to her stomach, "I'm not feeling all that great. I ate a little while ago, so think I'm going to just lie down for a while." The pastries had been delicious, but far richer than what she usually ate and the cramps from her cycle certainly weren't helping matters either.
"Are you ill?" Leandra said, coming away from Gamlen's door to press a hand to Hawke's cheek.
"Or pregnant?" Bethany suggested innocently from the bedroom doorway, which was clearly revenge for not being allowed to come on the expedition.
Hawke made a sound like a scalded cat.
"Bethany Ann Hawke! No I am not!" Hawke yelled when Leandra went wide-eyed and raised a hand to her lips with a gasp. "Mother, don't listen to her. It's the opposite of pregnant, in fact," she snarled at Bethany, who rolled her eyes and smirked. Smirked!
Hawke hoped she wouldn't say anything to their mother about Varric or the necklace, but Bethany seemed content with her little joke, which was not funny. The door to Gamlen's room opened a minute later and her uncle emerged looking happier and more relaxed than Hawke had ever seen him.
"Gamlen! You look like you're feeling better," Leandra said with a suspicious glance at Hawke. "Good. You can help with dinner."
"Just make sure he washes his hands first," Hawke muttered underneath her breath. Bethany covered her mouth, eyes wide behind her hands as she fought off scandalized giggles.
"What was that?" Gamlen said, his usual grumpiness and suspicion returning as he glowered at Bethany and Hawke.
"Nothing," Hawke said. "I'm just knickered. Er. Knackered."
Maker preserve her.
Bethany completely lost it and pealed into helpless laughter as Gamlen's face flushed bright red. "You think you're funny do you?"
"Actually, I think I'm hilarious," Hawke said. "But anyway. I'm going to bed. Everyone…good night."
Hawke retreated back into the bedroom before her mouth got her into any more trouble. She'd forgotten the red knickers she stuffed down her shirt earlier until they fluttered to the floor when she was undressing. She considered kicking them under the bunk bed but Maker forbid Gamlen or Snowflake should find them. She waffled for a minute or two before picking them up and shoving them into the pack she was bringing on the expedition.
Who knew… Perhaps they'd make a useful slingshot to hurl rocks at darkspawn.
Hawke met up with Bartrand in Hightown approximately three days later with Varric, Anders, and Fenris. Bartrand had gathered a group of twenty or so dwarves, humans, and a handful of elves who would be coming along for the journey. Hawke would be surprised if even half of them returned.
"So are you ready? It's a long trek. If you have any business you need to wrap up here, you'd better do it now," Bartrand said impatiently to Hawke. "We've got most of our wagons and supplies waiting at one of the entrances with a few guards and I'd rather get there before bandits or wild animals decide they'd make a good target."
"I'm ready. Let's get started."
"Then let's not waste any more time."
"Wait!" Hawke heard a familiar voice say and turned to find Bethany jogging up, dressed in her chainmail and leathers with her staff slung over her back. "I'm coming." Bethany said stubbornly when she saw the thundercloud expression on Hawke's face.
"Oh boy," Varric muttered under his breath, taking a step back to avoid being caught in the showdown between Hawkes.
"You had better turn right back around, Bethany," Hawke growled, stabbing a finger in the direction she had come. "I thought we decided that you're staying here."
"You decided, Marian. I have every right to make that choice for myself."
"I told you this was too dangerous! I said no and I mean it. No, Bethany. Go home."
Anything else Hawke was about to say was interrupted as Bartrand stood in front of the gathering and started his speech, glaring a warning in Hawke's direction. She pinched her lips together and turned to watch him, though the conversation was far from over.
"We've chosen one of the hidden entrances. The Deep Roads there will be nice and virginal, ready for a good deflowering," Bartrand announced before the group, laughing at his own joke.
Hawke and Varric exchanged glances.
"Now there's an interesting image," Varric murmured.
"It'll take a week for us to get to the depth we need, and there are bound to be leftover darkspawn from the Blight. Big risks, big rewards," Bartrand said.
"Risks, rewards, virginal entrances - what could be better?" Hawke said, not bothering to lower her voice.
"Exactly!" Bartrand laughed, pleased with her apparent enthusiasm. "Now, before we...wait. Who invited the old woman?"
"Oh...dammit!" Hawke hissed when she turned with the rest of the group and saw Leandra running up.
"Someone's in trouble..." Varric sing-songed beneath his breath. "Two guesses on which one of you it is."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, ser dwarf, but I need to speak with my children," Leandra said to Bartrand.
"Mother! I told you not to get involved with this!" Bethany said.
"I just want to know one thing: are you planning on taking Bethany with you?" Leandra asked Hawke.
"Mother...I'll be fine. I want to go."
"It's not fine! You can't both go. What if something were to happen to you?" Leandra said, beseeching her to see reason as she turned to Hawke. "You I understand wanting to do this. But leave your sister here. I beg you!"
"It's the templars or the darkspawn, Mother. At least I'm allowed to fight darkspawn," Bethany protested.
"Well, you're not going to be able to take everyone, anyhow," Bartrand said, stomping over to them. "You'll need to decide. Quickly. We don't have time to stand around all day while you sort out your family drama."
"There's nothing to discuss. Bethany, sweet, I'm sorry but I'm not going to change my mind on this. Go home with Mother," Hawke said.
"I knew you would see reason, Marian," Leandra said, wrapping her fingers around Bethany's upper arm gently. "Thank you."
Bethany glared at Hawke with more venom than Hawke had ever seen her direct at anyone in her life, but Bethany had never been able to hold a grudge and wilted. "I hope you're right…"
Hawke reached out and hugged her tightly. Bethany squeezed back just as hard before Leandra gently guided her away with one last grateful look at Hawke. Hawke watched them go and pressed a fist to her stomach, which felt leaden. She sensed a presence at her elbow and didn't need to look down to know Varric had come over to stand beside her, or that Anders and Fenris were at her back in a silent show of solidarity. At least they knew how hard it was for Hawke to leave her family behind.
"Promise me, before we go in there that you won't...that you won't..." she said stiltingly.
"Won't what, Hawke?" Varric prompted. He reached for her hand and hissed softly when he found her fingers freezing. He chafed her hands between his own much warmer ones but Hawke still felt cold all over. "You're worrying me a bit, sweetheart. I hope you're not getting cold feet now."
Hawke closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and tried not to think of the battlefield at Ostagar. Of Lothering. Of the women dragged away screaming and wailing. Of Millie, her single eye staring vacantly at Hawke like an accusation.
"Promise me that you won't let the darkspawn take me alive."
"Hawke, what?"
"Promise me, Varric," Hawke said, gripping his hands tightly as she turned to face him with fire blazing in her eyes. "Or I call this whole thing off now. If we get overwhelmed, if there's no way out… If that happens and you only have one shot left then that bolt had better be for me. Don't let them turn me into one of those...those things. A broodmother. I would rather die first."
Hawke was trembling, blinking rapidly as a delayed fear response hit her all at once.
"Varric! Quit holding us up!" Bartrand called in irritation from the front of the procession. "Get your Ferelden bitch under control and let's get a move on already!"
The fury that flashed across Varric's face was brutal, primal, and Hawke barely moved fast enough to wrench Bianca upward just as Varric shot a bolt directly where Bartrand's head would have been.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?!" Bartrand roared, fighting free of the group and grabbing for his double axes.
"Next time you talk about Hawke that way, I won't miss."
"You get one taste of human pussy and you forget where you came from? Everything we worked to build? If you didn't have those damned maps I would cut you both down right here!"
"I highly advise against that course of action," Anders said, voice echoing with traces of Justice as he stepped between them. He turned to Hawke, eyes fading from blue to amber when Bartrand immediately backed off and swore. "Hawke, I promise you that no matter what happens the darkspawn will never use you to breed more of their filthy kind, even if I have to see to it myself."
"As will I," Fenris said, also stepping forward.
"Thank you," Hawke said, sagging with relief. "Varric, I-"
"Don't ask me to promise something like that, Hawke. I can't. I won't. I'll die fighting to save you first before I'd ever consider putting a bolt between your eyes."
He holstered Bianca and stormed off.
"Let's get this caravan moving! Anyone who falls behind gets left behind, so keep up!" Bartrand called with one last glare at Hawke and her companions before climbing back aboard his cart.
