Chapter 9 – Secret Apostate
Hales
My eyes fluttered open, sunlight shining in from the window. Sunlight. I was home. A rush of images overwhelmed me. Home. Carver. Templar armour. His kiss. I had fainted, I realized.
I groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over my head. I wasn't ready to deal with reality just yet. I heard some shuffling and a concerned, dulcet voice echoing, "You're awake."
I threw the covers off my face and looked towards Anders, sitting upon a rickety stool a few feet from my bed. I found a smile making its way to my face and murmured quietly, "Please don't tell me you've been watching me sleep when you need rest yourself."
Honey brown eyes gleamed warmly despite the lack of smile on his face, "No. Once I made sure you were fine, I went back to the clinic. I've been coming around to check up on you everyday."
I rose from the bed, my movements slow and jerky as my joints popped, stiff from a lack of use. I rolled my shoulder and repeated, "Every day? How long have I been asleep for?"
"Two days, more or less. Your body just needed rest," his hands rested upon my shoulders, streams of mana flowing into my body to check my condition, "You aren't sick or injured or anything."
Physically, I was fine. I felt fine. I didn't even feel slightly lethargic. But mentally… My mind was a mess, a whirl of incoherent thoughts and feelings that didn't make sense. All I could think of was how he had kissed me and then walked away afterwards.
I muttered dumbly, "He kissed me."
Anders sat upon the edge of the bed, sighing out in concern, "I know. I saw. Are you alright, Hales?"
I shook my head, "No but I will be." I was always alright. I would always be alright. After all, I was all that I really had. If I wasn't alright, what would be? He was gone now, a part of my life that had once again, abandoned me. Or maybe, I had abandoned him. Was it my way of hurting the world after all the damage it had done to me?
He revealed, with some reluctance, "Varric's been telling anyone who will listen about Carver kissing you."
I made a noise of discontent, "Really? What does he know? What has he been telling everyone?" I asked with dread in my voice.
Anders managed a light laugh, "You know how he is. This is Varric. He estimates and guesses. Where that fails, he embellishes and makes things up. The story has been dramatized and I've stopped listening to it but it can be reduced to about three lines. One, you're not really a Hawke. Two, Carver kissed you, and in a less than brotherly fashion, no less. Three, you fainted afterwards."
"Maker's Breath," I complained, "Kill me."
He snickered, "Something like that. Isabela's basically gone nuts and the entire group has a lot of questions for you."
I felt the sizzling rush of irritation slice to my core. I didn't have to put up with this! These were my secrets! My past! I didn't want to answer questions! It wasn't anyone's business but mine! Mine!
My conversations with Mother didn't help me feel any better about the situation. I had confronted her, despite knowing the answer, "How did Carver find out?"
"I told him," she had sighed, "but your Father had left a letter for him as well. There was mention of your adoption in there too."
The latter part had not been known to me, "A letter?"
She nodded, "Explaining all the things we should have thought about but never had."
Frustrated, I snarled out, "What are you talking about?"
She tilted her head, eyes slanted towards me, "Didn't you ever find it strange that Carver always thought you were his sister? You were five when you came to us. Five."
I understood her implication; it was a question I had peripherally thought about. Why hadn't Carver remembered my adoption? She gestured, "Malcolm had blurred out their memories, both Carver and Bethany's. They wouldn't remember your sudden addition, just simply believed that you were always a part of the family. I imagine, Malcolm wanted a seamless transition for you. He never told me. It was a shock to find out. Still, Carver's mind didn't seem to accept the blurring as well as Bethany and perhaps, that's where his feelings stem from." Mother seemed tired towards the end of her speech.
I didn't have the heart to shout at her, but I accused, "Why didn't you just leave it be? Father had already done that… why?" My voice became progressively louder, "Damn it!" I cursed, "Why? Why did you tell him? Why couldn't you have left it alone?" I nearly shouted at her.
She pressed her hands on my shoulder, pushing me into a chair. When she sat opposite me, she said, "He had the right to know! He deserved to know what he was getting himself into!" Mother hurled her words at me, her voice shrill and defensively but defiant, "He deserved to know, Hales! All these secrets you keep, all these distances you try to hold and control, all those burdens! He deserved to know! He deserved to share those burdens with you! He -"
I didn't let her get a word in, continually throwing the pain I had in my chest, venting it out upon my Mother, "And what about Carver? What does he understand out of all this? He doesn't know what the consequences are! He's not mature enough to deal with the backlash, the rumours, the pressures upon our family!"
"You're not helping him by coddling him!" she cried out.
I laughed mockingly, "Seriously? You're going to give me a line like that when you didn't even want us together? I heard you talking to Carver on the boat! I heard your disapproval, I remember it like you were just telling him thirty seconds ago!" I began to shout, "You want me to suddenly jump upon the bandwagon of 'let's pair Hales up with Carver' when all this time, you've hated it?"
I ended the shouting match out of breath and panting, my chest heaving violently with all the emotions I was feeling. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Pain. Heartache. Loss. How I missed him…
Mother's voice was weak, tired and defeated, "I never hated it," but underlying all that, was a strange tone of fear that I had never heard in her voice before.
"Malcolm always knew, you know. He always believed in the two of you. He used to tell me that Carver was the only one who could open your heart, if only a little, and you were the only one who could temper Carver's flaws, make him see the world as it was instead of being surly everyday."
Father… The mention of him made tears burn my eyes, blur my vision and singe my cheeks. He had always understood. Always. Even when I didn't want him to, he understood. Even where he didn't know my secrets, he understood. And I could never hide anything from him, not really. Certainly not my feelings.
Mother stared out the window, "When he died, I knew you were hurting but I just didn't know how to deal with it. All these years, I've wanted to know your past. All these years, I've been afraid to ask, too scared of what the answer might be, too afraid to hurt you again. Too afraid it would push you away. Malcolm should have pushed," her words became breathy, "I should have pushed. When Bethany died, you were a wreck and I should have been there to comfort you. I wasn't. In some ways, I've been a failure of a Mother."
I tried to interject but she shook her head at me, "You thought I hated you for not dying. Carver thought much the same. It was never like that. I do love you, Hales, but I've just never had the capabilities to truly look after you. You never needed it."
"Of course, I did." I told her, "Both you and Father gave me a family, one I had never truly known."
"Yes. We did. But it wasn't the same for you as it was for Carver and Bethany." Her fingers grazed my cheeks, eyes faraway, "You enjoyed us, you loved us, you cherished us but not because it was a given. You were never one to take things for granted. You treasured us because you knew you could lose it all and you made yourself strong because you knew that if you needed it but lost it, it would end you."
And there it was, the truth of the matter sitting right before me. How I hated that feeling of being abandoned. How I hated it but oh, how I seemed to constantly find myself within it, wallowing away. Mother almost managed a smile, "All those secrets, my heart. All those burdens. When will you let go of them? When will you share them and allow yourself to heal?"
I managed a weak, "I'm fine. Really."
She kissed my forehead briefly, "You love very deeply but when will you let yourself be loved?"
Loved? I was loved. Mother loved me. Father had loved me. Bethany had loved me. Carver… he had… he had loved me, hadn't he? I was loved. Still, it felt like a concept was eluding me, just short of my reach. What did she really mean?
In the end, I found myself in the Chantry almost every afternoon, sitting on the benches to try and find some peace within the turmoil that I felt. I needed someone to talk to but there wasn't anyone I really trusted. I didn't want to tell my friends the truth. I trusted in Fenris and Anders but Fenris was hardly the man to go to for such matters and Anders was always so busy. It didn't seem right to bother them.
"Hello, Hawke."
And there was my answer.
I smiled, instantly recognizing the voice though it had been quite the while since I had heard the ring of brogue. After all, I had helped him kill an entire band of mercenaries. Without even turning, I answered lightly, "Hello, Sebastian. How are you?"
He sat beside me, armour gleaming white and gold, copper coloured hair glinting in the evening torchlight of the halls. Deep blue eyes looked into my own and he answered with a weary sigh, "I am well. I could be better but… I could certainly be worse."
I looked to him for elaboration and he shrugged, "I want to claim my land but I need help to reclaim Starkhaven. I can't find anyone willing to help me. It feels like a futile effort but it seems to be the only right thing to do."
"I'm sorry to hear that, my friend," I said gently.
His smile was peaceful and comforting, "But I did not come here to burden you with my problems but to share yours. You helped me once. Let me return that favour."
I laughed, self-deprecating and miserable, "You're only asking for trouble."
"Come now," he said with a hand upon my arm, "you will feel better afterwards. You can trust me, Hawke."
If I couldn't trust a Brother of the Chantry, who could I trust? And because I honestly didn't know what else to do, I ended up telling him everything. It was as though I could keep nothing in. Carver's kisses… it had unlocked something. Whether it was his actions that had put into motion a series of questions that I could no longer evade or whether it was simply my inability to suppress my emotions any longer, I couldn't be sure but he had unlocked something.
I began, "You…You know I am an apostate, yes?"
Sebastian gave a wry smile, "The staff on your back wasn't a big enough hint?" he asked in rhetoric.
"Well, I was abandoned when I was a little girl and adopted into the Hawke family," I tried slowly. Each word was hard to pronounce, like a defensive mechanism within me was trying to stop my words but with each one, it became profoundly easier.
"Yes… I've been hearing something like that from the dwarf you run around with," Sebastian commented, "Something about how you are adopted and something about being kissed."
I groaned and slapped my face, "Varric," I said his name like an expletive.
To veer us back on track, Sebastian asked, "Were you abandoned because of your powers?"
With reluctance, I nodded, "My Mother, my real Mother, was dressing me and I lifted a hairclip into the air without thinking. I remember how her face had turned green, she had gasped in horror but at the time, I was a child and I thought she would come to grips with it. She took me to the markets and left me by a wagon. She never came back for me."
"Do… Do you remember the rest of your family?" he asked.
I shook my head, "I never had a Father. I had a half-brother and," I smiled at the thought of tousled brown hair, dimples and a boyish grin, "I loved him. He was all I had in the first five years of my life. When night fell the day she abandoned me, I walked around for hours and got lost. My Father, Malcolm Hawke, found me. He took me home and I was a part of the family after that."
I fell silent for a while, the both of us listening to the sounds of Sisters idling about as I murmured quietly, "I miss him. Alistair. My half-brother. He loved me, looked after me, did things to make me happy. It was so easy to be with him. I didn't need a Mother. I didn't care for one. I just needed him. He's the one person I regret leaving behind."
Sebastian's words were equally hushed to comfort me, "You weren't given a choice…"
"I moved on… or at least, I thought I did. I loved Alistair but… I knew I had to let go of the past. In some ways though, I think he was the only one who truly understood me. Maybe it was because I didn't know what it was like to be abandoned prior to that point. But afterwards, I had new parents, new siblings to love. It could have been so simple," I nearly whimpered, "So simple. But feelings had to get in the way."
"Feelings?" he prompted.
"Carver… He was supposed to be my adopted brother but… there was attraction there, between us," I admitted, wincing as I waited for the preaching.
It never came. I looked up and his face was impartial. When the silence reigned on, he eventually told me, "You're adopted. There is no sin committed here."
I sighed, "Not entirely true. You see, Carver didn't ever seem to remember my adoption. I never really questioned it but the truth came out recently that my Father had blurred out his memories to make my addition into the family seamless. He was supposed to believe that I had been a part of his life all along…"
Sebastian shrugged, no judgement in his voice, "Evidently, something didn't go as planned. He must have known or his mind subconsciously recognized that you were not truly his sister."
Yes, he was right. Evidently, that had been the case. It didn't stop the story from becoming any less tragic. The memories of warm cuddles, soft grass, gentle breezes and long nights filled my mind and for a moment, I could almost smell the scent of Ferelden summer rains. "We had a short time together," my voice carried off wistfully, "where we were free to be as we wished late in the night." I smiled, "We would sneak out to the front gardens, stay there late into the night and talk about everything. The whole world. He would hold me and give me chaste kisses. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough but I…" I trailed off.
"You were content to let it be," he answered, "and so you never told him about your adoption, did you?" he asked knowingly.
"No, I never did."
"Why not?"
"Consciously, I knew that we wouldn't be accepted. No one knew I was adopted. We would be seen as freaks. It wasn't right… but…" I sighed then shrugged, "I'm not even sure. Over time, it became clear that Carver wanted to be with me but he didn't truly understand the consequences. I tried to push him away."
Part of it was also fear. Fear of the unknown. I had only ever told one person I was adopted, Mikhail, and even at that point, I was afraid to tell him more. The problem wasn't really just my Mother or society. It was a portion of it, but not everything.
I crossed my arms over my chest and revealed, "Then Carver went to help the Ferelden army with the Blight. Then Father died. That was… the beginning of when things had taken a turn for the worse. Mother was a wreck and Bethany was a mess. Both of them needed me. I felt alone but I had Carver. I went to visit him and he gave me a necklace."
I thumbed the silver chain, showing him the crystal amulet, "It was for my eighteenth birthday. I promised him I would never take it off. They are the same shade as his eyes," I murmured.
What if I had told him? What if he knew my weaknesses? What if he knew my pain? What if he abandoned me? Of course, I knew it didn't even make sense. Carver was hardly polite but he wasn't a hurtful or cruel man. If he knew of my being abandoned, he would never attempt to hurt me with that but there was fear there. What if? There were so many of those 'what if' questions that lingered. I tried to push the thoughts away.
As I wound my fingers through the chain, I told him, "Bethany died when our family left for Kirkwall to flee the Blight. I thought Mother hated me for not dying. A part of me probably thought it was because I was adopted. Carver helped me grieve but he still didn't understand. He just … didn't get it. Mother confronted him about us and I heard her disapproval whilst we were on route to Kirkwall by ship. I thought she hated me. I thought she wouldn't want me to sully the only child she had left."
Somehow, my face had found a spot upon his shoulder and his arm wrapped tightly around my back. He encouraged, "Tell me more."
"Our Uncle Gamlen had managed to smuggle us into Kirkwall by bribing the guards and we were to pay off the debt. I stayed away from home a whole year, kept my distance from Carver. I ended things with him. But when that year was up…" I looked up into Sebastian's face, my expression screwed up, he answered for me, "You went home and it was like nothing had changed."
I nodded, "At first, we were a little argumentative. Then it was like we picked up where we left off. We trespassed into the old Amell home, slaver territory, to find Mother's will. We were back to back, fighting and laughing together, drunk on adrenaline and foolish bravery. And the more time we spent together, the closer we became. It was so easy to be with him. I loved it. I hated it. The night before our expedition into the Deep Roads, the tension was growing again and it became too much. I threw nasty words at him to keep him at bay. It was awful."
Sighing, I closed my eyes, "I wanted to be with him. We were on the rooftop, him lying across me and I wanted nothing more than to stay right there with him. But there were so many things on my mind, so many reasons not to succumb to the temptation… I pushed him away."
Sebastian comforted, "You tried your best to do what you thought was right but… sometimes, it isn't as simple as it seems. Right and wrong can be hard to define sometimes. You cannot attempt to control everything. Carver… he has responsibility to think for himself, to learn from the situation and," he added with some emphasis, "to look after you as well."
Look after me? That was what I was afraid of. Carver was the kind of man that wrested control from me so easily. In a moment, I would be with him, completely at ease, unable to remember what was right and wrong, utterly surrendered to his love and touch. Could I afford that kind of insensibility? My heart was foolish and impulsive. My mind was smart and strategic. I would be a woman led by my head rather than the heart.
The potential consequences of heartbreak were just too severe. There was too much at stake. My heart, my life…
"I owe the Hawke family everything. It didn't seem right to take so much," I said mechanically, beginning to see that it was never as simple as owing the family.
"I can see that you feel an obligation to your family," he commented.
"I didn't end up taking Carver with me. I went without him. Anders and Fenris somehow realized I was adopted and spoke to me of it. Aside from that, the only thing of note in the Deep Roads was that I nearly died. And in that moment, all I could think of was Carver. I thought I could hear his voice in my ear, his arms keeping me safe. It was all a mirage," I cried out, "such a disappointing mirage."
Sebastian frowned in confusion and I explained, "We met all sorts of creatures in the Deep Roads. We fought demons, rock wraiths and other such monstrosities. I survived because I can absorb lyrium and somehow, I healed myself. I don't know anything yet. It's something I need to talk to Anders about."
"Does Carver know?"
I shook my head, "I know so little. I couldn't tell him. I didn't want to risk telling him the wrong thing. When I got back, Carver became a Templar. I was in the doorway and he was… on his way out, maybe. I can't be sure. He had found out from Mother and a letter from Father that I was adopted. He was upset and he…"
Sebastian supplied, "He kissed you."
I nodded, "He punished me with his kiss and I still felt like all was right in the world. I hate how much I need him. And yet, all the words I could have said to make him stay never came out. I just ended up pushing him away. The pain though… it doesn't go away."
He had frowned in response, "Now he's just impolite."
I laughed a little, "Carver isn't polite but… he wasn't rough all the way. Towards the end, he was… almost gentle… like he wanted to kiss me," I blushed, "Sorry."
Sebastian had grinned, a sparkle twinkling in his eye, the only token left of a more ostentatious past, "There's very little you could say that would truly faze me. I do take confessions, Hawke."
"Hales… Please, call me Hales," I told him, "I appreciate the thought but that got personal. I didn't want to seem like –"
He placed a hand up to stem my protests, royal in his gait, "You meant well. You weren't trying to be uncouth. That is enough."
"And now," I gave a significant shake of my hair, "the whole world wants to know." I mimicked a gossiper, "What's going on with Hawke? Oh Maker! She kissed her own brother?"
Sebastian laughed, "Hales, the more you evade, the more they will gossip. If you want to stop someone from talking about you, the best way is to confront. Don't hide away."
There was something about him, something wise and uncommon. Royal in every way despite being a Brother in the Chantry. I praised, "You really are every bit the Prince, aren't you?"
He quipped, "Wasn't always that way."
I shrugged, "It isn't just like that though. I found out from Mother that she doesn't actually mind if we're together, it seems. It all just seems for naught. She asked me when I was going to let myself be loved. I just don't understand. I know I'm loved."
Sebastian tilted his head, "It isn't like that. To allow yourself to be loved is to be understood, to share burdens, to speak freely, to have your guard down. Someone can love you for who you are but you don't let yourself be loved until it can touch your heart. You won't let Carver love you until you let him understand your heartaches."
We spoke through the evening and into the night. Sebastian told me his entire life story, how he was the third son of a royal family and lacking in love and attention. To make up for it, he rebelled, gambled, whored and drank. Eventually, he got sent to the Chantry and from there, learned how to be a true gentleman. I joked, "Isabela would have loved you a long time ago."
He clapped me on the shoulder and responded, "Too bad that feeling isn't mutual any more."
And just like, we became very close friends almost overnight. Very late into that night, he said to me, "The streets are dangerous. I'll walk you home."
I had felt lighter than I had in a very longer time and laughed, genuine and real, "You do know you're talking to an equally dangerous apostate, right?"
His only answer was to offer his hand and take me home. At my doorstep, I kissed his cheek in platonic fashion and he advised, "I know you're trying to take back the Amell estate. For now, you can focus on that. When that's over and done with, you should face your friends. They deserve the truth, too." He grinned, "I'll even let you blame your absence on me."
I asked him, "Why are you being so kind to me?"
Sebastian stared at me with dark sapphire eyes, so different to those that Carver had and told me, "Because I understand. We were abandoned by the people who bore us but found love in another family. We hurt and we each have our past, but most of all, because I see a lot of me in you. We're very similar." Then he smiled, "The only difference is that eventually, I let someone in, let them understand my pain. Have you ever let anyone in? You haven't."
I said defensively, "All of them, they mean something to me. I care about them very much and I trust them with my life and almost every part of me."
"What about of your past? Are they a part of that?" he asked.
I shrugged, admitting to him, "No, but I don't want to share that. I just feel like I'm constantly in a cycle between being abandoned, growing stronger then feeling hurt and growing stronger then more heartache comes and trying to move past that because there isn't anything left to do. I feel… so tired. I don't want to keep thinking about it."
"But you will until Carver knows."
"He is a Templar now. It is too late for us."
I wanted it to be too late for us. It would mean that I would never have to worry about what it would be like to so thoroughly lose control of myself and my life. When I had been abandoned, I never had a say in the matter. I was too young, my mental faculties undeveloped and I never had the power to choose for myself.
It was different now. I could prevent myself from being in that position of vulnerability again and no one, not even Carver, would be given that power over me such that I would feel such pain ever again.
It was a bit of a lie, of course. Whether with or without Carver, my heart always ached. When he was around, I was scared of him, keeping him at an arm's length when all I wanted to do was throw myself at him. When he wasn't around, I missed him, worried for him, felt relieved that the temptation was no longer posed before me but felt helpless with the need to see him.
Still, I had a lot to think about after that. Sebastian had a point. Trusting someone with who I was meant every part of me. Not just a conveniently picked portion. I tried first with Mother. We were waiting for an audience with the Viscount, sitting in the Seneschal's office. I said with some abruptness, "I still remember that day I was abandoned in Redcliffe."
She gaped at me, surprised that I had finally spoken about my past, "I – You- I'm not surprised really. You were already five."
I was calm, finally ready to tell my Mother what had happened, "I never knew who my Father was. I had never seen him. My life was to stay quiet, stay unseen and I very rarely saw my real mother. Some days, she remembered me. Other days, it was like I never even existed."
I heard Mother sniffle, her eyes slowly becoming unfocused and glassy. She whispered, "I suspected that. I knew whatever had happened was something that hurt you very deeply. It was part of the reason why your Father and I never asked. We were afraid to hurt you."
"There are scars there. Who was my Father? Why didn't my Mother love me? Where was she?" I laughed with cynicism, "I know where she was now. I remember enough to put the pieces together." I shared a memory with her.
It was late and I was sneaking into the larder with Alistair for both of us had gone without dinner. As we neared the doors, I heard a boisterous man's laugh and a feminine chuckle that was full of secretive delight. Alistair and I hid in a dark corner, both of our breaths held in, fearful that we had been found. Instead, I heard a wooden thump and when I peaked around the corner, I saw my Mother with a man. I didn't know who that man was but he was kissing her, his hands bunching her skirt and lifting it almost to her waist. I heard Alistair's shocked gasp and when I thought the man was my father and made my way to them, he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me back to my bedroom.
Inside my bedroom, I cried out at him, "Why did you do that? That was probably our Father!"
He held me in his arms, dropping a kiss over the crown of my head, "That wasn't our Father, Hales."
I pushed him away by the shoulders and demanded, "That had to have been Father! She was kissing him!"
"No…" he came to embrace me again despite my pushing him away, "That wasn't our Father."
"Do you know who our Father is, Alistair?" I asked him
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
"It doesn't matter, Sweetheart. He'll never to see us and it doesn't matter. You have me. You'll always have me," he whispered into my hair.
Mother looked horrified, "She was – She was going to- She forgot you for sex?" Astonishment coloured her voice.
I nodded, "It seems that way. I didn't know what was happening then but now that I'm older, I realize what was going on. Alistair – he knew," I told her, "He knew and he tried to protect me from the truth. Whoever our Father was, he knew that my knowing about it would just cause me pain. So he sheltered me from the entire world. Maker, I loved him so much." I confessed, "Most of the pain… I don't miss her. I miss him and at the very least, it wasn't all for naught for it gave me a real family." She touched my hand, trying to convey her love and sympathy, lifting my hand to her lips for a kiss. I told her, "Alistair was my half-brother and he was the only one I ever loved and he was the only one who ever loved me…" my voice broke, becoming nothing more than a husky breath. I shared more memories with her.
I had been sitting by the broken vanity, staring at my reflection in the looking glass. It was already mid-afternoon. Mother had promised she would be back before noon to help me get dressed for a formal dinner. She had promised to buy me a lovely new dress and brush my hair until it gleamed like silk. I sighed, exasperated and hurt that she had forgotten about me.
There was a knock at my door, a light two tap sound, and recognizing Alistair's knocking style, I called out to him, "Come in, Alistair."
He found me with rumpled hair, still in my nightclothes whilst he was dressed in what we had thought was finery. His new clothes were well fitted and made of a silky quality, like satin. Even his boots bore no marks or scuffs. Alistair admonished, "You're still in your nightgown!"
I shook my head despairingly, "Mother said she'd be back by noon."
He looked at me with dark honey brown eyes through the mirror, his fingers gently tugging at my hair, "I will help you."
I threw my nightgown off and he helped me into a lovely red dress, my favourite red dress, decorated with gold string, patterned into the shapes of suns and stars. Then he sat me down by the vanity, took the brush and gently ran it through my hair. When it got caught in the knots of my curls, I protested with a loud, "Ow!"
He apologized, "I'm sorry, sister. I've never done this before." He studied me through the mirror and offered in a rush, "Be a good girl for me and I promise I'll steal some cheese from the larder for you."
I smiled at the memory, "I never liked cheese as much as he did. It was his favourite treat but the thought meant something to me anyway." I shook my head, clearing my mind of the foggy memory, "He didn't know how to brush hair but because he knew I was upset, he gave it everything he got to make me happy. He was only three years older than me… only eight… but he loved me dearly. And from my old life, he is my one regret for leaving that old life…but I suppose I never had much choice. That life abandoned me."
Mother wiped away the stray tears from my cheeks that I hadn't realized I had cried. She told me, "Carver once asked me about an Alistair. He told me that you spoke with someone –"
I nodded, interrupting her, "Yes. The Grey Warden at the Ostagar camp… I met someone called Alistair. He looked so similar. He had the same hair, the same eyes," I smiled, "He even had that way of rushing through words and that whimsical smile. I thought – but no, I know he isn't really who I want him to be."
Mother asked me, "Why not?"
I answered her question, "He's King Alistair now, a hero of Ferelden, a defeater of the Blight - he couldn't possibly be my brother. I was hardly royalty."
She nodded, understanding my logic. She asked, "You've never wanted to talk about this before. Why now?" Then she said desperately, "I'm not complaining. I'm just… curious."
The Seneschal interrupted our conversation, "The Viscount is ready for you now."
As we strode towards the Viscount's office, I told Mother, "Carver kissed me. It was like he opened up something within me and I just couldn't close it again. With some encouragement from Sebastian, it all came tumbling out."
And whether I wanted to admit it or not, there were some truths that I couldn't ignore anymore. My feelings, my past, they were all things I had to deal with. The emotions I had kept locked up wouldn't stay down anymore. So, I found ways to cope.
Once I had money, every door was opening up to me. Nobles greeted me on the street, suitors sent presents, flowers and our estate was given back to us for a small fortune in return. Being nobility had its burdens though. Every week or so, there would be court and I would have to sit through hours of boring talks, incessant whining from the nobles and put up with repulsive pigs who thought that a woman had little better to do than to spread her legs for any man who strode past. It was worth it though. Mother was finally happy and content. She spent weeks decorating the estate, buying new furniture and having Bodahn, our new manservant, fitting the pieces in different places. I think if it weren't for Bodahn and Sandal, I would have gone insane from Mother's inane picking and choosing.
It all seemed a little empty to me. The house was too big for me and Mother. Carver wasn't here. I opened up the bedrooms, taking one of the largest for myself. Though the bed Mother bought was huge and comfortable, I always felt lonely. I wondered just for a moment, what life would have been like if the Blight never happened at all. What if Carver found out I had been adopted in Lothering? What if there had been no Blight? Would we be happily together? The thought made my chest tight. I fiddled with my necklace for a moment before tucking it under my dress.
I needed things to distract myself. I stirred trouble with Sebastian to keep myself busy.
And in order to keep myself from thinking about Carver, I prodded around at Gamlen's shack. I even found a letter that spoke of the Gem of Keroshek. When Gamlen refused to reply to the letter or tell me more of it, I decided to follow the lead with Sebastian.
It was a goose chase really, a little boring and almost pointless. Almost. We followed leads from Darktown and into the Elven Alienage, fighting a great deal many thugs along the way. We trailed into a Fish Guttery, ambushed by more mercenaries. It was difficult without a front-fighter. Without Carver – no, without Fenris, a rogue and mage were a little out of sorts. Each fight felt close to death's edge.
Sebastian's skills were useful, he moved so quickly, he appeared a blur to me. Eventually, the two of us found ways of keeping the men at bay. I would protect us, using a line of fire lit upon the ground to keep the men away and he would pick them off, one by one, with his arrows.
We eventually found a note that mentioned a place called The Sink, a cave full of spiders and other such creatures. Not wanting to waste time dispatching those, I left shards of ice along the pathways so they couldn't follow, webs of electricity that would damage them and searing flames where possible.
What I ended up finding, however, was somewhat of a surprise. A girl by the name of Charade. Mousey brown, wavy hair, deep hooded violet eyes that were too big for her face, an upturned cute button nose and pursed, sulky lips. I thought she was a bit of a bitch at first.
"So Gamlen couldn't even be bothered to come himself?" she said with this sarcastic voice then became a bit more friendly, "I should have expected he'd send you, Cousin."
Gamlen's daughter. That was the only uncle I knew of. It was news to me. I asked, "I have a cousin?" She didn't look like Gamlen at all. She wasn't the prettiest girl I had ever met but she was a lot better looking than Gamlen. Although, perhaps my uncle just hadn't aged very well.
She was shocked, "Gamlen never told you? I…" she laughed, "Of course he didn't. Why would he?"
There was a slight interruption, in which Charade's apparent business partners turned out to be treacherous and spineless brutes, out to steal the Gem. It was a good lesson for her really. Sending people around on a goose chase with the means of notes carried around by comrades you couldn't trust was generally a great way of getting people injured or killed. Veld, one of her partners in crime, had realized that she had the Gem and attacked her to get it after I had apparently killed his brother. There were an army of men to fight.
All of them were well-built mercenaries, each wielding deadly weapons, all of them surrounding the three of us. I had a sinking feeling as Charade pulled out her own bow. Two rogues and a mage weren't heavy hitters compared to soldiers. My thoughts returned to Carver. Not even during a fight were my thoughts entirely my own.
In the cave, my fire spells came in handy. It burnt the flesh off men but didn't burn down the cave around us. The ground was too soggy to hold fire. But Carver was there, in his own way. Each spell was easier to cast with him in my mind. I could almost hear his voice in my ear, "Don't forget the men coming in on your six. Wouldn't want your lovely behind to get injured."
It was so ridiculous but my heart felt lighter even with his memory surrounding me. I almost didn't want all the mercenaries to drop dead so quickly. When all was said and done, Charade turned to me slightly out of breath, "You're pretty useful in a fight. You don't take after Gamlen at all."
I smirked at her, "Well, Gamlen's only an Uncle and I'm technically not your cousin."
"What?" she said, "Aren't you Hawke?"
I nodded, "I am, but I was adopted. So, we're not actually related by blood but rather by name."
Revealing this part of me was becoming shockingly easier as time went by and judging by Sebastian's private but complimenting smile, I knew it was a good thing. I shrugged, "You have another cousin though. Two, actually. Bethany and Carver but Bethany died before we even got to Kirkwall and Carver… he's a Templar, so I doubt you'll be seeing much of him."
It was information overload and she blanched, trying to absorb as much as she could. I prompted, "So, Gamlen is your Father?"
She nodded, "My mother, Mara, left him before I was born. He was so fixated on finding that stupid gem that I doubt he even noticed she was gone." She sounded so resentful, which was understandable, I mused to myself. Then she said, "She told me about Gamlen before she died last year. I didn't even know about him."
I lectured jokingly, "Next time you want to talk to someone, it might be best you try knocking on their door rather than sending them around on a useless chase that nearly got someone killed."
She snickered, "Oh, yes. That sounds brilliant. Just show up on his doorstep and say, 'Hi, I'm your daughter'. I doubt that'd go over well." Then she shook her head, "I just wanted to see – I don't know – how far he'd go for something he really wanted." She threw her hand in the air, "And then he doesn't even show up. I baited him with the one thing I thought would get his attention."
"Charade," I began helplessly, fingers picking at my amulet, "People change after… Oh, I don't know, how old are you?"
She shrugged, "I'm almost twenty-three."
I said loudly, "Exactly! You can't expect a man to keep going after the same thing for twenty-three years. Gamlen might seem like an ass, but one, he's got some good qualities and two, he is your Father. I think you should go talk to Gamlen," I suggested, "Does he even know about you?"
She shrugged and said with some doubt, "I'm… not sure."
I smiled a little, "I don't think Gamlen knows and maybe you shouldn't judge. At least give him the chance to talk to you. He is your Father…" I tried to sound the next words out, "Maybe, he deserves to know the truth." I joked, "Maybe you should try the door this time?"
There was relief and affection shining in her eyes, "I think I will. Having a cousin turned out to be a good thing, adopted or not. Maybe… having a father will be a good thing, too."
I escorted her to Gamlen's house and asked her, "So… about that gem, did you find it?"
She grinned at me, took something from her pocket and dangled it in front of me. It was a bright green gem, large and almost gaudy. I asked her unimpressed, "That's it?"
Charade rolled her eyes at me, "It's worth a fortune!" Then she chucked it at me. I nearly lost it, fumbled before catching it again. I threw it back at her, "I don't want it. You take it!" She shrugged, "I don't want it either."
We looked at each other, feeling like siblings about to squabble and burst out into laughter. I wrapped her hands upon the green jewel and said, "Give it to Gamlen and see what happens. Go talk to him. I'll be right out here."
I gave them some time, a while, during which time Sebastian and I spoke. I told him, "I got the estate back. I've found an extra cousin. I guess I need to face the brood, right?"
Sebastian's hand was light and calming upon my shoulder, "Don't worry. It might turn out better than expected. It might shed some light on your past with so many minds thinking together."
I eyed him fearfully, "What about the whole Carver kissing me thing?"
He leaned against the wall and smiled, "These are the Maker's tests. You'll never know what happens until you get through to the other side." I wasn't sure if that helped or not.
Charade came out a little later to invite me inside and both of them were smiling. I commented, "Looks like you two had a good talk."
Gamlen sneered at me, "It was bloody awkward, that's what." Charade giggled.
I grinned at her before joking, "She looks nothing like you. Thank the Maker, huh?"
My uncle rolled his eyes at me before sighing out in slight embarrassment, "You know, I may not say this very often, but I'm glad you're one of the family," then he muttered out, "even if you're adopted… and kiss your own brother!"
I screeched, "Alright! Totally not necessary! How did you even find out?"
He looked at me like I was insane, "Leandra told me, of course! But seriously," he said, glaring at me with rich irritation, "Next time? Stay out of my damned business, girl."
I offered spontaneously, "You know, I was hoping to stay in your business. It's just a thought but maybe… you and Charade would like to live at the estate. There's no point in you squatting here in Lowtown and I have more bedrooms than I know what to do with! Think about it."
Gamlen snorted, "I don't need your charity, girl. I'm happy squatting here in Lowtown."
I told him gently, "Charade needs a family, too. A place where she can put down some solid roots. Friends and family she can relate to." When he looked like he was going to protest, I cut in, "Just… think about it, alright?" I gave a meaningful look to Charade who grinned at me. I knew we would end up living together.
Within two weeks, they moved in. The house still had too many empty bedrooms but we felt like a real family. Mother and Gamlen patched up their differences and I had a new cousin to joke and laugh with. Gamlen gave the Gem of Keroshek to me but I passed it back to Charade, who gave it back to Gamlen who decided that his greatest treasure was his child and sold it to the highest bidder. The coin he made was placed in the Vault along with the gold I had found. We had a shared store of riches.
Then came my dealings with my friends. The Hanged Man was loud and boisterous as Sebastian and I made our way to Varric's room. At the door, I could smell alcohol and hear the game of Wicked Grace being played. When I knocked at the door, everyone became silent. I introduced Sebastian to them, letting them socialize and get to know one another. Fenris and Anders grabbed me, one upon each arm and told me in no certain amount of conviction that, "You have to talk to them about the adoption thing. We can't handle the questions anymore."
I laughed and hugged each of them close before asking, "How much have you told them?"
"Nothing," was their simultaneous answer. I was so grateful for them and pushed them back to the main table, ordering a glass of cider for some non-alcoholic liquid courage. The onslaught of questions began. Varric questioned, his fingers against one another in mercantile eagerness, "So Hawke, where've you been?"
I raised my eyebrows at him, "Surely you know about my moving into the estate… you do have ears and eyes everywhere."
He nodded, grinning at me, "And you moved in your uncle and cousin. That was nice of you."
I said in dramatic breathlessness, "I'm nothing if not nice."
Then awkward silence reigned and no one moved or said anything.
I sighed in defeat, "Alright alright, ask your damned questions."
Isabela said, "First off, why is it Anders and Fenris knows the juicy details and the rest of us don't?"
Sneering, Fenris told her off, "Because you're not intelligent enough to work it out."
I nudged him in the ribs, "They worked out that I was adopted. They didn't really ask questions. Well," I glared at the two of them, "Not many, anyway."
It was a long night. It wasn't that they wanted to know every single detail but rather, the time was mostly spent upon squabbling over which detail was the most important. Eventually, they wanted to know who my Mother was, who my Father was but I shook my head, "I don't know. I remember what my Mother looked like but I don't even remember her name. Father? I didn't know or ever see the man. So, no idea."
Aveline crossed her arms and looked at me, "So you just followed Malcolm home and became a Hawke? Just like that?"
I nodded, "Just like that."
"And Carver?" she challenged.
I shrugged, "There's nothing to talk about there. He's a Templar. I'm a mage."
Isabela looked at me with that seductive gleam in her eyes, "But Varric here told us how he kissed you with bruising force and passionate embrace."
I glared at Varric, "Did you have to?"
He said defensively, "What? It was true! If I hadn't been trying to pick my jaw off the damn floor from surprise, I would have been trying to narrate it for you!"
I grimaced, "Really?"
Fenris commented, "It…was not brotherly, Hawke."
I touched the chain around my neck and said sadly, "It doesn't matter. It's too late for us now."
Anders interrupted my thoughts, "You mentioned a half-brother at some point."
I nodded, "Yes. Alistair. He-"
Aveline shouted, "King Alistair?"
I laughed, "I doubt it. He and I shared the same Father and we lived in some ratty part of a small noblemen's estate. We couldn't possibly be related." Everyone left it at that.
By the end of the night, Varric came to speak with me about investment opportunities. He told me, "You interested in getting even richer?"
I nodded, "Sure. What do you need?"
He told me, "Coin. Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Hawke. Look at it this way, you give me gold and I invest. When time is up, I give you the original capital and whatever profit there is, I take a quarter and the rest is yours."
The night had ended on a rather good note and in some ways, I had come to some realizations of my own. Carver was, in some ways, no longer a part of my life. That was the way it was going to be. I didn't like it. I missed him. I wanted to give up and be with him. I wanted to fight it and stay strong. But Carver wasn't with me anymore and life had to keep going.
It made life a little easier, knowing that there were now people who knew my secrets. It wasn't entirely the same as having someone love me at the same time but I was content to let things be. I found things to focus my life upon and though, I always thought of Carver and missed him terribly, I learned to live without him just as I had once done so when smuggling with Athenril.
The rest of the year became a bit of routine. Varric routinely came to me for money to investment in various projects around the city and my fortunes almost doubled by the year's end. I began investing into Anders' clinic, providing him with coin so that he could improve his tools and buy more ingredients.
Each week I spent a day in court, waiting idly in frustration as nobles squabbled over petty differences. Sometimes Charade deigned to come with me but there was little to do even with her there. Two nights a week was spent over at Fenris' mansion, teaching him how to read until I fell asleep. Though Mother often lectured me about staying over at another man's house, eventually she gave up knowing that the two of us were nothing but friends.
One day a week was spent at the Chantry, helping Sebastian with some cooking for the poor, helping him with little odds and ends or just spending time talking. I tried to help him campaign for Starkhaven but it seemed futile effort. Those who didn't have power couldn't help and those that did were too self-absorbed to see past their rotund bellies.
Despite what seemed like a mundane routine, there were a few things that sparked interest. Firstly, I turned twenty. I was no long a young girl but a lady of society.
Several times, I accompanied Mother and Charade to visit Carver but I generally stayed quiet and away from the conversation, keeping a distance. We never spoke but Charade frequently mentioned that his eyes would stray towards me so she was hopeful that maybe one day, we would be together.
Thirdly, Fenris and I would spend a few nights a week in Anders' clinic in the dead of the night, trying to figure out my powers. We read multiple dusty tomes, went to the Black Emporium to speak with Xenon the Proprietor and experimented with my magic. Over time, we came to realize that I was, as Fenris had suggested, a sorceress, capable of creating illusions, casting powerful spells that would affect one's mind like seductions and hallucinations or spells that allowed me to absorb lyrium directly without damage, absorb another's mana or even convert a man's life energy into my own store of mana, or in my rawest form, I could allow my mana to simply pulse so powerfully that my enemies would disintegrate once in contact.
There were admittedly, a lot of near misses. I very nearly took off Fenris' arm due to poor aiming when I was trying to direct my mana pulses towards a pile of wood. I burned Anders' leg quite badly when I was attempting to create illusions of fire and instead, cast fire spells at him. We laughed about it afterwards but I was terribly scared that I would injure them severely. They waved me off, trying to be macho and manly about it but I wasn't always sure I believed their flippant attitudes.
One night, it became blatantly clear to me that Fenris' apparent acceptance of my powers was simply a polite façade. It had been another near miss. I was supposed to direct an illusion of flames towards Fenris, an arrow of fire, and instead caused a mighty explosion in Anders' clinic. Flames of bright, electric blue flew about the damp floors of the clinic, the blaze fanning out like a bird's wings. A swirl of smoke flittered towards the ceilings before glowing a piercing purple, like a single eye was watching the three of us.
I saw Fenris' face, closed and tight as he watched the display of impressive flutters of mana and lyrium and thought it was just the shadow upon his face. When the wisps of blue and purple faded away, I asked, "Is everyone alright?"
Anders had waved my words aside and jabbered on about the theories of what had gone wrong. Fenris had only nodded, giving a polite, "Of course."
I wasn't sure I believed him. Something brutal was lurking there, right beneath the skin, beneath his impassive and thin façade that spoke of barely controlled anger. I went to him, touching his arm. It was a mistake. He grabbed me by the wrist, twisted it behind my back and pushed me face-first into the walls.
"Don't touch me!" he had bellowed out before throwing me to one side, stomping out of the clinic without any other words.
As Anders helped me to my feet, checking my legs to ensure no broken bones or rolled ankles, of Fenris' hostile treatment, he had commented lightly, "You can take the chains off a man's wrists - but you might not ever be able to take the slave out of his heart."
I understood the implication. Something about the display had reminded Fenris of Danarius. He was very much aware of my powers and felt insecure about them. "I have to talk to him."
"Are you crazy? He'll shove that glowing fist right through your chest."
He'd try to, sure, but his display of roughness had me itching for a fight. I wanted him to try and kill me. There was something about the challenge of fighting Fenris that reminded me of Carver, and whilst the latter had never treated me in such a rough fashion, there was still a similarity there that I couldn't brush aside. The use of the sword, the brooding surliness… I went to Fenris' mansion late that night and confronted him about it.
His first words were, "Get out of my house, you dirty abomination!"
I set out to deliberately provoke him, "I'm no demon so your instruction is useless."
Fenris swore, filthy oaths in Arcanum, before coming towards me, shoving me towards the door. I shoved him back, yelling in his face, "I am not a demon!"
"I know that!"
"Then stop acting like an idiot!"
He shoved me by the shoulders, "Don't call me that!"
"Don't act like one then!" I countered in a scream.
"Get out! This is my house! You don't get to come in here and order me around!" Physically stronger than me, he carried me outside the threshold of his bedroom and dropped me violently upon the dusty marble.
I heard a crack in my ribs and cursed foully, before kicking my legs out in a sweeping motion, catching him off guard, bringing him crashing along the floor beside me. His right elbow hit the marble with a sickening crack.
As the two of us got up, I told him with conviction, "I'm not Danarius."
In his frantic rage, all he threw at me was, "Then stop using magic!"
He raised his sword at me, clumsily aiming it at me with only one hand. "That's like asking me not to breathe, Fenris!" I exclaimed, "I cannot change what I am any more than you can take those lyrium brands out of your skin!"
"You are a mage, with power over all of us," he swung his sword and I fended it off with my own protection sphere, "If you were to control us, we could do nothing about it!"
I shot him backwards against the wall, "I am not a monster! I wouldn't do that to my friends!"
He threw me against a chair, sword forgotten, "The temptation is always there! Your magic spoils everything!"
"And what about your lyrium?" I accused, "Should I ask you to rip them out so you become incapable of fisting everyone who pisses you off?"
"I cannot do that without dying! You can stop using magic and live your own life!" he shouted at me.
"And what kind of life is that?" I countered, "Why should I live a half-life, a slave to whatever whims you are afraid of facing?"
With a growling snarl, he hurled himself at me, pushing me upon the floor, keeping me down as he reached for his sword.
There was a split-second clarity. I wanted to surrender. Something I had never done before.
We were covered in bruises, bloodied lips and maybe more than a few broken bones. And why? Only because of our fears for the unknown, for our inability to trust.
When he reached to strike me, I did not defend, too exhausted by life and too unwilling to fight him, "You have your own abilities. Will you massacre the world? Will you kill me?"
I just wanted to give up control to someone and hope for the best. And as the sword hung a few inches away from me, the only thought that ran through my mind was – Of all the people I could trust with my life, I was putting my faith in the rage-crazed Fenris? Why hadn't I trusted in Carver to not hurt me when all these years when he had been, almost always, gentle with me?
The tip of his sword crashed a hair's breadth from my neck, his eyes conflicted and hands trembling. With a snarl, he threw the metal aside. From the dusty floor, I offered to him, "You could help me, make sure I learn to control it properly, make sure I don't misuse it."
One moment, he was heaving, mind caught up in his own emotional quarrels and the next, he pulled me to my feet, arms wrapped around me. His voice was husky in my ear, "I've wanted to trust you but have been too afraid to. Thank you for giving me this compromise."
I understood. It certainly opened my eyes towards the relationship Carver and I shared. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to trust in his love but I wasn't able to. The only difference was that there could be no compromise between me and Carver. I was either in completely or out all together. Any grey areas in between would only cause pain for the both of us.
Both Anders and Fenris became my anchors; Anders taught me how to wield and cast new spells, Fenris encouraged me to control my power. Though Anders couldn't personally cast the spells himself, as he was not a sorcerer, he could teach me to read the diagrams. A spell was like a weaving spider's web and unlike the ones that we often muttered in Arcanum, these were more physical. I had to wave the figure with my hand or picture the image strongly in my mind.
There were some spells that I refused to touch, both for my sake and Fenris'. When Anders told me the seduction spells or the ones that would manipulate another's mind, I refused them. He had shrugged, obviously relieved at my personal choices and Fenris had complimented me, "You have principles. It is a good thing."
As the year went on, I became better at casting illusions. Anders would let me practice creating the images of fire and ice around the room, create sword like weapons in the air that would fly at him despite the fact that it would never do any damage whatsoever and finally, on a cold winter's day, I managed to create a brief duplicate of myself. We had celebrated that amazing feat.
There was also a bonus for Anders. As I practiced my skill in leeching mana off Anders, our magical bond deepened and soon, he and I were constantly merged in mana whenever we were physically in the same area. Somehow, in the process, the spirit of Vengeance seemed to revert back to Justice, strict and firm but not angry. Justice tried to explain it to me once, "When you and Anders merge, I am able to absorb the best of you - Anders' never ending passion to help others but also your calm, the stillness within you. I am Justice again." Anders became calmer, less volatile and Justice was no longer corrupted.
But there were problems. At first, it wasn't as noticeable as I was still getting used to my powers and as such, each spell I cast would be small and insignificant in the amount of power I was releasing. As time went by however, it became blatantly clear that as soon as I pushed myself over a particular limit, I would suffer. It wasn't any long term damage, mostly symptomatic responses but I would go into something similar to mana withdrawal, curling up into a ball to fight away the shakes that would take hold of my body. Even through practice, it never seemed like I could get rid of my limitations. Anders called it a 'blockage' and said that I probably just needed time, I wasn't so sure about that.
The rest of my time was spent righting wrongs in Kirkwall, going on quests and helping others. We helped mages, killed Ser Alrik, defeated Fenris' former torturer, Hadriana, killed Bartrand, because Varric couldn't help himself, and overall, caused a lot of trouble to give peace to the city.
At the very end of the year, I hosted a huge festive dinner and all my friends were invited over. Everyone was happy and socializing. Isabela attempted to seduce Charade, Merrill ended up tipsy, Gamlen and Varric actually seemed to get along really well, Donnic and Aveline came out as a couple and more than a few times, I saw Anders and Fenris speaking with Mother.
Everything was perfect. Almost.
But I realized that without Carver, that was as perfect as it would ever be. Carver's kisses had woken up something within me, something that I craved and wanted. I lay awake at night, thinking about his touch and it was agony for me. My body ached for his touch, my lips ached for his kiss and my mind and heart ached for his love. I would remember the way his lips ravaged mine, how his tongue pressed into my mouth and how he held me in his arms, his hands caressing my waist and threading into my hair.
Everything was perfect. Almost.
A/N: Hey, sorry about how long it took to update. I've been having a lot of assignments due. Hopefully, things will wind down towards Easter and such.
As always, a shout out to Mistress Vo for her wonderful editing!
As always, please R&R! I'd love to know what my reader's think and feel. All criticism is much appreciated.
Love,
Ann
