A/N: Well, it's only a few days past a monthly update, not too bad! I'm hoping to get the next one up a bit sooner as June shouldn't be too busy for me. Also, only one more quest to go before the expedition and the end of Act One, so there will be some big chapters coming up! Not sure how many chapters the expedition will end up being, but there will be a certain cameo coming along after that too ;). So lots of big chapters coming soon (I hope!). Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Thanks as always to everyone who has read, favorited and followed so far, I'm glad you like it!
Special thanks to my always awesome reviewers, Lethal Dragon, Wolfang1011, Ioialoha, Candle in the Night, Lost Space, Tactus 501st, and new reviewer Alkeni. I always love to hear your thoughts!
PLEASE REVIEW EVERYBODY, THERE WILL BE ANOTHER GIFT FIC FOR THE 100TH REVIEW!
As always, I don't own the parts you recognize as belonging to Bioware, just the rest of the story!
Chapter 9: Burdens of Responsibility
"This should be it." Carver checked the map over carefully again, tilting it this way and that in the light of the moon as Brianna and the others watched him, before looking at the cave entrance in front of them and nodding. "Yes, this is the right place, according to the map."
Brianna looked over at Mardin, who was standing partway between her and Carver. "Well, what do you think?"
Mardin walked over closer to the cave entrance, pausing just before it and taking a deep breath in. He turned back to them and nodded, wrinkling his nose. "There are definitely people in here. Apparently ones who have something against bathing."
"Unhygienic slavers? Who would've thought?" Varric joked.
Brianna snorted in agreement with him; it did seem like the majority of slavers and bandits they came across had never heard of soap. But, they did have bigger things to worry about right now, such as getting to Feynriel before morning arrived, so she headed for the entrance, calling over her shoulder, "Let's go get Feynriel back before something happens to him, or the Tevinters arrive to pick him up."
Mardin readied his sword and shield, hurrying to enter the cave ahead of her along with Carver, the two of them moving cautiously forward as Brianna fell in behind along with Varric and Fenris. The cave appeared to be an old mining one, full of abandoned mining carts, old wooden tables, lanterns, and even wooden beams built into the roof and walls to support the tunnel that had been carved for easy passage. They eventually came out of the tunnel into a larger, more open area, and before Mardin and Carver had gone more than a few feet forward, an arrow whistled down at them. Mardin moved quickly, bringing his shield up above his head, blocking the arrow before it reached him.
"Definitely the right place," Carver said dryly as Mardin pushed him back, keeping his shield up above their heads, and Brianna quickly scanned the open area, searching for the archer that had fired.
Varric was quicker than her, however, and just as Brianna had located the archer, one of Bianca's bolts sailed past her, piercing through the archer's throat, and the fight was on. Several more slavers raced forward to meet their party, met by Carver, Fenris and Mardin as they stayed ahead of Brianna and Varric. Brianna did her best to aim her spells past the three of them without hitting them in the process, and was able to pick off two slavers of her own before the fight was over.
"I do not see the mage anywhere," Fenris informed Brianna, returning from the corner he had followed one of the slavers to as he'd tried to flee.
Brianna frowned, glancing around the large, open area, well lit as it was by torches and lanterns. She did not see any sign of a prisoner being kept here either, no cages up on the various wooden platforms, or young boy huddled in a corner hiding. "They must not have been keeping him in here, then. Is there another room?"
"There's another tunnel back here!" Carver called from another corner of the cave where he'd been searching.
"He must be deeper in. Let's go." Brianna hurried towards Carver, gesturing for the others to follow as she did so.
They caught up to her quickly, Mardin pulling ahead of her to take point, keeping his shield out in front of him as they made their way along another winding tunnel. It took only a few minutes for them to arrive in another open cavern, this one a bit smaller than the last, and the first thing Brianna noticed as she came up behind Mardin was the rocky ledge on the opposite side, well above their heads. An armed, rather chubby man with braided red hair was holding a sword to the throat of a small, skinny young boy with long ash-blonde hair and a terrified expression on his face who could only be Feynriel.
"Take one more step, and the boy dies," the man said coldly as Brianna slipped up next to Mardin, holding her hands up in a peaceful gesture as she stopped several feet away from the rocky ledge.
She hesitated for a brief moment, wondering how best to handle the situation. Could she get a spell off before the man slit Feynriel's throat? Or not hit Feynriel in the process? She wasn't sure, but looking over at Varric, she was suddenly struck by another idea. "Varric, why don't you tell this kind gentleman just who we are?"
Varric gave her a quick grin and a nod, obviously seeing where she was going with this, before he called up to the man, "If I were you, I wouldn't be threatening the viscount's son."
The man frowned, looking confused. "What?"
"Oh, I suppose you just got a tip from a slaver that he was selling mage-flesh cheap. You never thought to ask where he got it?" Varric demanded in an incredulous tone. Brianna fought to keep a straight face as she could see the man starting to shift uncomfortably while Varric continued, "You never wondered if you were buying the viscount's well-known love child from his elven mistress, the boy he swore to protect even if it meant razing the entire Free Marches?"
The slaver cast a considering look down at Varric before replying, "I seek no war with the Free Marches. Take the lad to his father."
"That is an excellent choice, good ser," Brianna told the man, nodding approvingly, and proud of herself for not laughing at Varric's outlandish tale or the look of alarm on the slaver's face. "You have made a wise decision."
The man finally dropped his sword from Feynriel's throat, sheathing it as he said, "This was the price set on the boy." He dug in his tunic, producing a pouch of money which he tossed down to them. Varric caught it deftly as the man went on, "Please accept it . . . as an offer of peace." With that, he walked away from the boy, leaving through an exit in the cave wall that Brianna only now noticed behind him.
"Can you get down?" Mardin called up to the boy, who looked a bit pale and shaky. He nodded in response, however, and headed to the side of the ledge, where there appeared to be a rocky path snaking down to the cave floor. Feynriel began cautiously picking his way down.
"The viscount's love-child?" Brianna asked Varric quietly, trying to contain her amusement. "Really?"
"What?" he replied with a shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"
"One of these days, dwarf, your lies will become so outrageous that no one will possibly be able to believe you," Fenris said dryly.
"Don't be ridiculous, Broody," Varric retorted. "I know how to keep things toned down to the level of a perfectly believable story."
Mardin snorted, looking amused even as Carver raised his eyebrows. "That was toned down?"
By this point, Feynriel had reached them, scratching his chest and looking nervously at the five of them, his dark woollen clothes looking dusty and bedraggled, as though he'd been on the run for days. "Excuse me," he began tentatively, interrupting whatever Varric had been about to say, "but who are all of you? Are you working for the Templars?"
"Do we look like we work for the Templars?" Brianna asked him incredulously, tapping at the staff strapped to her back, which was long enough to be clearly visible over her shoulder. "Your mother sent us. She's been worried sick about you."
Feynriel scowled, his nervousness apparently disappearing at the mention of his mother. "Hmph. Hardly a difference. I can't believe her. My whole life, it was all, 'I'll love you and protect you.' Then I have some bad dreams and it's, 'off to the templars!'" He threw his hands up in clear frustration, shaking his head.
Brianna sighed, studying him. He was a bit older than she'd first thought, now that she saw him up close, likely only a couple of years younger than Carver, but still clearly inexperienced. She could see why the boy felt betrayed by his mother, but he obviously had no idea what he was really dealing with, and she was the one that had to explain it to him before he got himself or someone else killed.
"I really hate to say this," she told him at last, "but in your case, I think she's right. She really is doing this to protect you." She held up her hand to halt his protest as she continued sternly, "If you're having nightmares where demons are talking to you, you need help. The Circle of Magi, unfortunately, are the only ones that know enough to offer that. And believe me, I'm not saying this lightly. I may be a mage, but I've never had dreams like yours, and nor has any other mage I've known."
"Well, I'm not going," Feynriel replied defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was trying to get to the Dalish. They won't be afraid of my magic."
Brianna sighed in exasperation, resisting the urge to throw her hands up in defeat. It was like he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He might even be more stubborn than Carver, she thought wryly.
"Hate to break it to you, kid, but the Dalish aren't too fond of humans, not even the ones that are part elf. And you look just as human as these three." Varric gestured to Brianna, Carver, and Mardin, and Brianna cast him a grateful look for the intervention.
"I'd rather be killed by the Dalish than turned Tranquil by Templars!" Feynriel snapped. He sighed when Brianna merely raised her eyebrows at him. "Look, I know it's different in other kingdoms, but here . . . no one helps Circle mages. Anything the Templars don't like, you get the brand. The Dalish, they've had magic forever. They could teach me. I won't be a danger, I swear."
"Because no Dalish mage ever went astray," Fenris said darkly, glaring at the boy, who looked frightened, but kept his defiant stance, chin up as he looked back at them all.
Maker, she was so tired, Brianna thought, rubbing her forehead wearily. It had been a long night searching for this boy already, and now somehow, she'd ended up being the one responsible for the rest of his life. Why was she always the one having to make these decisions? And what if she made the wrong one? She had no idea what she was supposed to do here, or how to decide. It was so much easier to make decisions in the heat of battle than it was after the dust had settled, and the weight of this decision was making her head spin.
The soothing weight of a hand on her shoulder grounded her, and she looked up to see Mardin squeezing her shoulder again gently. She wondered just how he managed to make such a simple touch so comforting as he said softly, "It'll be okay. Just do what you feel is right. That's all you can do."
What did she feel was right? Well, she knew what she'd thought when she'd started looking for the boy, and though his suggestion of the Dalish had made things more murky, there was one thing that would help to clear it up, she realized. She met Feynriel's gaze evenly, hands planted on her hips as she asked quietly, "Was your mother right? Are you plagued by demons already?"
Feynriel looked down, shrugging, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I can't say for sure. I have . . . dreams. There are voices in the dreams. They ask me to come, to give shape to the Void around them." He looked up again, his expression hopeful and pleading as he added, "But the Dalish Keeper is wise. If anyone can help, she can!"
Voices in his dreams . . . Brianna shook her head and sighed. It was just as she'd feared; the boy was in far too much danger already. It certainly made her decision clear again, although it didn't make it any easier for her as she told Feynriel, "Sorry, but it's too much of a risk. The Dalish aren't equipped to deal with you if you do become an abomination. I won't risk the lives of an entire clan when the Circle can help you as well. I've heard that Thrask is a good man – he'll keep an eye on you and make sure you're treated fairly. And if you honestly think you're going to be made Tranquil for no good reason, send me a letter. I'll break you out."
Feynriel snorted. "As if it would be that easy to break into a Circle! Do you honestly think you could get me out before I turned Tranquil?"
"We have our ways," Brianna told him evenly, keeping her shoulders squared and her gaze firm. Feynriel met her gaze pleadingly, but she stood her ground, not flinching, knowing that if she showed any sign that she was wavering, he'd pounce on it. His face fell when she said nothing more, and finally, he threw his hands up in exasperation.
"Fine!" He snapped at her. "Go get your blood money, tell my mother she won. But she'll be the only one I don't miss when they lock me away."
Brianna sighed. "Look, don't be like that. Your mother is only trying to make sure you're safe, and she was really concerned for you. At least let her visit you."
"Just take me back to my prison," Feynriel retorted, arms crossed as he looked away.
"Fine, let's go," Brianna said at last, seeing no point in arguing further, and she gestured to the others to head back the way they'd come. It was going to be a long walk back to Kirkwall.
It did, indeed, turn out to be a long walk back to Kirkwall. During the whole trek back along the Wounded Coast and over to Kirkwall, Feynriel veered between long, sullen silences, angry rants about her being a traitor to her kind, and tearful pleadings not to make him go to the Circle. Mardin had been threatening to knock him out and carry him back, obviously seeing how much it was weighing on Brianna, when Varric solved the problem by telling Feynriel that if he didn't shut up, Bianca would soon be the one doing all the talking. Feynriel had looked briefly confused, until Varric had pointed the crossbow at him, the dwarf's gaze very serious, and the boy had been silent the rest of the way after that. Brianna had quietly and profusely thanked Varric for that; it had been a great relief for her not to have to listen to the boy's accusations or pleading any longer.
It was dawn by the time they finally reached the outskirts of Kirkwall, the sun breaking over the horizon in a wash of red and orange, and Brianna was thoroughly exhausted, wanting only to get this job done and over with so she could sleep. With that in mind, she stopped at the gates to Kirkwall and asked Varric, Fenris and Mardin to take Feynriel to the Gallows and turn him over to Ser Thrask before they headed home to sleep as well. Ser Thrask might be a kind Templar, but she still thought it was likely best for everyone if the boy wasn't turned in by another apostate mage. In the meantime, she and Carver headed to the alienage to let Arianni and Merrill know what had happened before they could finally head home themselves.
"So, what now?" Carver muttered as they crossed the alienage, making their way to Merrill's door. "We go tell his mother, 'your boy's alive, but he hates you?'"
"He'll get over it eventually," Brianna replied, hoping that she was right. How long could the boy stay mad at his mother, anyway? "At least, for her sake, I hope he will."
"If it helps," Carver began hesitantly, "I think you did the right thing. He's not like you or . . . Bethany. He was too dangerous."
Brianna looked up at him in surprise, nodding gratefully. His words did lighten some of the burden she'd been feeling all the way back here. "It does help. Thank you."
Carver shrugged, looking uncomfortable as they finally reached the door. "You're welcome. Uh, let's get this over with, shall we?" He knocked on Merrill's door.
Merrill opened the door almost immediately, smiling with relief when she saw that it was them. "Carver! Hawke! You're back! Did you find him? Is he here? Well, I mean, obviously he's not here here but is he in Kirkwall? Is he safe?"
Arianni had joined her at the door by this point, looking exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed and her face still tracked with the streaks from her tears. "Is Feynriel – is he okay?"
"He's fine," Brianna told her gently, Arianni's face crumpling in relief almost instantly. "He's angry, but he's fine."
"We sent him to the Circle," Carver added. "Varric and the others took him to Ser Thrask while we came here. He wasn't very happy about going there, though."
"You – sent him to the Circle?" Merrill looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly unhappy. "Hawke, you're a mage! How could you? I thought you would have understood that there are other ways!"
"Not in his case," Brianna told her firmly. "He wasn't in control, and it was what his mother wanted." She nodded at Arianni. Merrill frowned, opening her mouth, then glancing at Arianni, she closed it again.
"It was what I wanted," Arianni agreed softly. "Thank you for finding him, and making sure he is safe, even if it is from himself as well. He may never forgive me for sending him there, but I'd rather him alive and furious than dead and buried." She glanced significantly at Merrill, who nodded unhappily before she turned back to Brianna, continuing, "As I said, I have little money, but this is a Dalish ring that has been in my family for generations. Please accept it with my thanks." She held the ring out in her open palm.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly take something like that." Brianna shook her head as Arianni reached forward more, trying to hand her the ring. "I just wanted to help." Besides which, she'd gotten money from the slavers who had been holding Feynriel; she didn't need anything else, especially from this woman who had so little.
"Please, you must," Arianni replied, taking another step forward. "I owe you a debt."
"Hawke, just take it," Merrill said quietly when Brianna shook her head again. "It would be an insult not to."
Brianna looked at her, then to Arianni, who nodded, before she sighed and gave in, taking the ring this time. "Then I thank you for the generous gift."
"You are welcome. I should go." Arianni turned to Merrill. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I have imposed on you long enough."
Though Merrill still looked unhappy, she nodded, clearly forcing a smile for Arianni. "You're very welcome. And any time you want to visit, you can. It would be nice to have a friend in the alienage."
"I will, thank you." Arianni smiled at Merrill, before Carver quickly moved aside, allowing the older woman to leave.
As soon as Arianni was out of earshot, Merrill turned to Brianna again. "How could you do that, Hawke? I thought you would find another way!"
Brianna sighed, shaking her head. "There was no other way. He was being plagued by demons. He needed help and he needed to learn how to control his powers."
"I'm in contact with a demon! Are you going to turn me in?" Merrill demanded.
"Merrill –" Carver began, but Merrill cut him off, hands on her hips as she faced him, eyes glittering with tears. "And I suppose you agree with her?"
"Well, yes," Carver muttered, looking uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Don't be ridiculous, Merrill," Brianna said quickly, trying to divert Merrill's attention from her poor brother, who looked like he hadn't the slightest idea how to deal with her at the moment. "I'm not going to turn you in. You're in control." Mostly, anyway. Though she was reluctant to admit it, Brianna had yet to see any sign that Merrill couldn't control the demon or the blood magic, not that she agreed with using either. Still, she certainly wasn't going to turn Merrill in, not until she had absolute proof that Merrill wasn't in control. "And I'm not going to talk about this anymore right now," she added when Merrill opened her mouth again. "I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed. You should too." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked away, giving Carver a pointed look that he should follow her, but he shook his head stubbornly, and she kept going, too tired to argue with Merrill anymore.
She sighed when she heard Carver behind her, saying, "Merrill, please – " followed by the slamming of a door. Carver caught up to her almost immediately thereafter, looking despondent.
"She'll get over it eventually, too," Brianna said after a moment, her heart hurting for the look on her little brother's face as he scuffed along beside her.
Carver sighed. "She seemed really upset . . . and angry. I hope you're right."
For his sake, Brianna sincerely hoped she was too. "Me too," she told him quietly, squeezing his shoulder. They headed home the rest of the way in exhausted silence.
Brianna had slept better than she'd expected to, considering how much had been weighing on her mind when she'd finally gotten home. She must have been even more exhausted than she'd realized, however, for she slept like the dead and woke up only shortly before supper. Carver was already gone when she got up, though, and she suspected he hadn't slept nearly as well. It didn't take long after she'd awoken for her to feel restless, and she finally decided that this might be a good time to talk to Mardin, since she had nothing else to do for the night. Given that he had been a surprising source of comfort for her during that last job, she hoped they'd be able to clear things up, at least enough so that they could be companions without any feelings of awkwardness between them again. And the sooner she could make that happen, the better, she thought.
She decided to head for the mansion to see if he was still there, knowing from previous experience that he liked to sleep in more than the others. Besides which, there were enough rooms in the mansion that they should be able to talk in private, something that would definitely not happen at Gamlen's place or the Hanged Man or any of the other places they usually frequented.
Fortunately, Carver wasn't there training with either Mardin or Fenris when she arrived, which she'd been afraid he might be. She wondered if he'd maybe gone to talk to Merrill when he got up, but she was mostly just grateful he wasn't there right now. He would have been curious when she asked to talk to Mardin in private, and any explanations would be awkward at best. Fenris, however, merely pointed to the hallway she'd seen Mardin come out of a few weeks before when she said she needed to talk to him, stating that he was likely still sleeping.
"His room is the second on the left," Fenris added when she hesitated at the entrance to the hallway, realizing that she didn't know which of the many rooms was Mardin's.
She turned back to look at him gratefully. "Thank you, Fenris."
"You are most welcome, Hawke," he replied before he headed up the stairs at the back of the great hall, likely heading for the study.
She stopped in front of the second door on the left, knocking loudly and praying that he wasn't sleeping naked again. When he jerked the door open, she kept her gaze up and fixed on his face, just in case. He looked distinctly grumpy, his hair sticking out in several directions, but as soon as he realized it was her, his expression cleared into one of surprise. "Brianna? What are you doing here?"
"I thought we could have that talk now," she answered. "In private."
"Ah." He glanced down at himself, and she was quite proud of herself when she managed not to follow his gaze. "Then I should probably . . ."
"Put some clothes on?" she finished for him, realizing he obviously was naked again, and he gave her a wry grin and a shrug, nodding.
"Wait here," he told her, and she nodded before he gently closed the door. He opened it again only a few minutes later, and she actually let herself look below his face this time to note with relief that he'd put on leggings and a tunic, though he hadn't bothered to lace the tunic up, and he'd straightened out his hair. He held the door open for her, gesturing to a small wooden table in the corner of his rather sparse room which had two cushioned chairs stationed by it. "Come on in."
She headed over to the table, glancing around the room out of curiosity. The only other items of furniture in the room were the large, four-poster bed with rumpled covers, the wardrobe, and the armor stand that held his drake-scale armor, sword and shield at the moment. Other than the bed, he kept the room rather neat; there was nothing on the wooden floor, nor anything on the table but a jug of water and a couple of cups. She sat at the table, and he sat across from her, looking a little nervous as he leaned back in it.
"So, where did you want to start?" he asked at last, when she didn't immediately say anything.
"You're the one that said we needed to talk," she pointed out evenly. "I assumed you had some kind of explanation or apology you wanted to give." She'd found it easy enough to treat it as though things were normal between them when they'd been trying to find Feynriel, since she'd had so much else to focus on. Now, however, when she was only focusing on what had happened between the two of them, she was starting to feel angry all over again at the memory of seeing him with Isabela so soon after he'd kissed her. He'd better be about to beg her for forgiveness, or have a really good explanation handy, she thought as she crossed her arms, staring at him.
Mardin sighed, running a hand through his hair and rumpling it anew. "I am sorry for hurting you. If I had known that you would be upset, I would not have said yes to Isabela."
"How could you not have known that I would be upset?!" she exclaimed in disbelief, unreasonable anger swelling up through her again. Was he serious? Was that really his excuse?! "I told you that I was jealous of Isabela, and your answer to that was to hop into bed with her right after we kissed?!"
"I only did that because you said no!" he snapped, looking irritated. "You'd made it quite clear you didn't want me touching you when you ran away from me, so yes, I didn't think you would care if I went to another woman who actually wanted me!"
"I never said that I didn't want you!" she retorted, frustrated. "I said that I couldn't, not that I didn't want to! And I didn't mean not ever, just not . . . so much, so soon!"
"Well you didn't exactly explain that to me, now did you?" Mardin demanded.
"I couldn't think straight enough to explain myself then, okay?! You had me so . . ." She flapped her hand, not knowing how to say it. Aroused? Overwhelmed? Wound up? Not, she supposed, that it really mattered as she went on, "Anyway, I couldn't find the words then, but by the time I came back to explain, which was only a couple of hours later, by the way, you'd already hopped into her bed! So obviously, you didn't really care about me at all, only sex!"
"That's not true!" he growled, shooting to his feet to pace back and forth angrily, before he stopped abruptly, blowing out a breath in exasperation and turning back to her. "If sex was all I wanted, there are plenty of other very attractive women around Kirkwall for that, as you may have noticed. And if you must know, until we kissed, I hadn't touched a woman since I came here!"
"Then why?" Why me? But more importantly – "Why turn to Isabela so soon?!"
He threw up his hands. "Because I thought I'd lost my chance with you! You said no, and I was drunk, and she asked, and I thought that if you didn't want me anymore, then I might as well be with someone who did!"
"And you couldn't have waited another bloody hour or two to find out differently?" She was horrified to feel angry tears stinging at her eyes, and sternly ordered herself not to cry. This whole ridiculous situation wasn't worth it, no matter how frustrated she might be.
"I was drunk, all right?" He looked suddenly deflated, sinking down in his chair again. "I wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that I wanted to try again with you, that I wanted to find out what happened. When I'd sobered up more and realized that's what I wanted, I left Isabela's room right away and . . . that's when you saw us. And if it helps, I haven't touched her since then, either."
"So that's your excuse?" she demanded coolly, ruthlessly squashing down the part of her that was happy to hear he hadn't continued to be with Isabela. It still didn't make up for the fact that he had been with her. "You were drunk and then decided you'd had your fun with Isabela and why not give it another go with me?"
"No," he sighed, looking exasperated as he ran his hand through his hair again. "You're making it sound . . . look. Things are different at home. There, if you think somebody is attractive, you just ask if they want to . . . have sex with you, unless they're already mated to someone, of course, and they say yes or no and that's the end of it. If they say no, or if the two of you have decided you're no longer interested, you move on and no one's offended or upset or anything. I thought . . . you said no, and that was the end of it. I moved on to someone who said yes, just like I would have back home. I didn't know you . . . didn't really mean no, or I wouldn't have done it. Drunk or not."
"Well, you're not at home, are you?" she snapped, still feeling angry and yet confused at the same time, and unsure how to properly deal with either, except to lash out at the cause of her hurt that she'd tried so hard to ignore the last couple of days. "You never thought it might be entirely different here? Or that you should maybe ask before you go ahead and assume things? And if you thought that was the end of it, why did you suddenly decide you wanted to try again?"
"Because, I – there was something that was – " he trailed off, shaking his head, and she frowned, wondering what he'd been about to say before he went on, "Never mind. Look, I apologize for hurting you. I really do. I do care about you, and I never meant that to happen, and I wish I could take it back, but I can't. But I'm also not going to keep apologizing for not understanding how things work here when you didn't explain anything to me. And yes, I could have asked . . . but you could have told me, too. How was I supposed to know what to ask, what rules to follow, when I only had my own frame of reference to work with, and know little to nothing about your world?"
Brianna sighed, shaking her head. She didn't even know what to think anymore. Neither the anger nor the confusion were going away, especially since he sounded so reasonable, and her head was starting to spin because of it. There was a part of her that thought that maybe he wasn't entirely wrong, but there were other, louder parts that were still quite angry at him, and thought that if being together was going to be this complicated, maybe it just wasn't worth it. Especially when it obviously wasn't going to be anything lasting, judging from his repeated talk of moving on to the next woman, and his culture's obviously flippant attitude towards relationships. Perhaps this whole situation with Isabela was a sign from the Maker that despite the attraction between them that she could feel even now, buried beneath her anger at him, this just wasn't meant to be for them.
"Look," she said at last, standing up, "maybe we're just too different in our approach to relationships. This . . . shouldn't be this hard, and I don't want things to be awkward between us all the time, or for us to be angry at each other like this. So I'm going to forget this ever happened, and I suggest you do too. We'll just be companions from now on, and that's it. That's all." She said the last firmly, meeting his gaze steadily. She thought she caught a flash of something in his eyes, some emotion she couldn't quite identify, before his expression went blank again.
He nodded slowly. "If you don't want me in your bed or touching you, that's fine. But I still want to help. Whatever you need me to do, just tell me and I'll do it. You don't even have to ask. That's what I'm here for." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I promise I won't ever bring this up again as long as you promise to send for me every time you have a job. Is that a deal?"
She studied him for a moment, surprised at the selfless and clearly sincere offer, wishing she knew just what he was thinking before she nodded. "It's a deal. But . . . why do you want to help so badly? Just because it's supposed to be your destiny?"
"It's partly that," he agreed. "I have a destiny here and I want to fulfill it. But it's also that you need help and I can help, and I want to. That's all."
Just when she thought she had him figured out, he went and surprised her with something like this, she thought. She could tell he meant it, through and through, that he just wanted to help, and that warmed her in a way she hadn't expected. But they were just companions, and that was all they would ever be, she reminded herself. That was what she'd decided, after all. "Then, thank you. I really appreciate it," she told him before she headed for the door, desperately needing some time to herself now to think, to clear her still-whirling head.
"You're welcome. And don't avoid the Hanged Man on my account, okay?" he added as she reached the door. "We'll just go back to the way it was before, right?"
She looked back at him, nodding after a moment. "Right. Then I might see you there later tonight. Good night, Mardin."
"Good night, Brianna," he replied softly as she closed the door firmly behind her.
"You screwed it up, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Mardin said evenly, ignoring Isabela as he took his ale from Corff, thanking him.
"Of course you do." She smacked him on the shoulder as she sat down next to him at the bar. "Hawke was finally here tonight, but she sat about as far away from you as she could get instead of next to you, and neither one of you was really looking at the other. I thought I told you to wait until I talked to her?"
Mardin took a long drink from the ale, wondering if Isabela would go away if he continued to ignore her. She was right; he had screwed it up. When she made no move to leave after a long moment of silence, he sighed and gave in. "It had been more than two days, and last night when we were on a job together, she seemed like she wasn't really mad anymore. I thought I could convince her myself."
"And how did that go for you?" Isabela asked as she signalled Corff for a drink of her own.
"Not well, obviously." Mardin gave her the basics of what had happened, that they'd argued and Brianna had decided in the end to pretend the whole thing had never happened, and seemed determined that nothing ever would. When he'd told her that it was fine if she didn't want him touching her, he'd lied, obviously. But he'd realized on that job last night that, more than anything else, Brianna needed a good second. If that was all she wanted him to be, he would deal with it, and his attraction to her. Their destiny was far more important than who he got to mate with. If his urges got to be too much, he would simply have to go to Isabela, or find another willing woman in Kirkwall somewhere. The idea held strangely little appeal, however. He pushed the thought aside; there was nothing he could do about it now. He didn't want Brianna pushing him away or refusing to use his help if he made things too awkward for her, so he would respect her wishes and ignore his own, for the sake of destiny. That was his responsibility, his duty, and his duty always came first.
"See, I told you," Isabela said when he'd finished the explanation. "There are some things that can only be properly explained by another woman, and you clearly explained things badly. Not to worry, handsome, I'll fix it." She patted him on the shoulder.
"Isabela, no," he told her sternly. "This is what she wants, and I'm going to respect that. Just leave it alone. Besides, I doubt she'll agree to talk to you, anyway." Brianna had barely looked at Isabela tonight either, nor spoken a word to her unless it was necessary.
Isabela snorted. "This is what she thinks she wants. Fereldans wouldn't know what they wanted if it bit them on the ass. Especially if it bit them on the ass. Don't you worry, I've got it all figured out. I'll just have a little chat with Hawke, and when it's done, if she still decides that this is what she wants, then I'll leave it alone. But I'm sure I can convince her otherwise. As I said, I'm very persuasive. And you're too pretty to look so sad." She patted him on the cheek before grabbing her drink from Corff and sashaying away before Mardin could reply.
Not, he mused as he took another drink, that he really knew what to say. Isabela seemed determined to talk to Brianna no matter what he said, and he didn't really know how he could stop her. He just hoped she didn't make things any worse, for he sincerely doubted that she was going to make things any better, no matter what she said about being persuasive. So long as Brianna didn't end up hating him or making him leave, he could deal with anything else, he told himself. He had to, for his duty was all he had left anymore.
Brianna frowned at the mysterious letter. Whoever had wrote it said that they didn't dare contact her directly, but would like to be indulged in a meeting outside the city. Apparently the meeting involved enlisting her aid in a delicate task with the lives of many innocents being involved. A map of the Wounded Coast had been included with the letter. The whole thing sounded very suspicious, but if there were innocent lives involved, she could hardly say no. Besides which, it sounded like a job, and the expedition was only a week away. She was still a few sovereigns short of what she needed, and there had been no jobs over the last three days. It wasn't something she could turn down. She tucked the map in her pocket, deciding that she might as well check it out, though she would obviously bring help first.
She went through the rest of her mail; the only other thing of note was a letter from Varric, asking her to stop by today to discuss the expedition. She decided to go to the Hanged Man first; she could find out what Varric wanted and, once they were done, ask him to come along to this mysterious meeting with her. After that, they could head to Hightown and get the others, for she didn't doubt that Carver would be at the mansion, training as he was nearly every day. It kept him busy when they had nothing else to do, just as training with Anders kept her busy, and it seemed to be good for him, in any case.
But today, she actually had something to do, she thought as she finished up breakfast. Which was a bit of a relief; sometimes there was only so much of Anders and making potions and practicing healing spells she could take. A little excitement would be just what she needed; she only hoped the strange invitation wasn't too much excitement.
She headed for the Hanged Man as soon as she'd finished her breakfast, and up to the second floor where Varric kept his suite of rooms. He was seated at the long table when she entered, a pile of papers in front of him as normal, but he looked up when she came in with a smile. "Hawke! How is my favourite mage? You got my letter, I assume?"
"I did," she replied with a smile. "Is there some new information about the expedition?"
"No, same old." Varric waved his hand. "I just wanted to check if you were all set, had all the money and know who you're bringing along, that sort of thing. Junior seems determined to come."
Brianna sighed, sitting down at the chair to Varric's left. "I know. I still haven't decided if I'm bringing him along or not. He'd never forgive me if I didn't, but Mother will never forgive me if I do, so . . ." she shrugged, and Varric chuckled. "Family," he agreed.
"As for the money, I almost have enough, but I'm still a few sovereigns short. Which is the other reason I'm here. I think I have a job out on the Wounded Coast, and I'd thought I'd see if you could come," she finished, and Varric nodded.
"Of course, Hawke, always happy to tag along on your latest adventure, you know that," the dwarf replied. "But first, there's someone else who wants to talk with you." He gestured to the door into his room, and Brianna looked over, frowning in confusion.
She was not expecting to see Isabela walk through the door, grinning at her. "Hawke! Just the mage I wanted to see!" the pirate exclaimed.
"Isabela, nice to see you." I guess. Brianna gave the pirate the best smile she could muster up, still feeling awkward at the sight of her, knowing what had happened between her and Mardin. She turned to Varric, raising her eyebrows in silent question.
Varric shrugged. "Rivaini wanted to talk to you, and you've been doing your best to avoid her, so I agreed to help." He hopped off his chair, heading for the door. "I'll be waiting downstairs when you're done. Don't kill each other. Or wreck my stuff."
"Did Mardin tell you what happened?" Brianna hissed as Varric walked by her, for he obviously knew that she had a reason to be mad at Isabela, judging by what he'd just said.
Varric stopped by her chair. "He did. He said the two of you kissed, there was some kind of misunderstanding, he screwed up with Rivaini there and he regrets it. And Rivaini said she wanted to talk to you, and since I lost the bet, I had to help." He shrugged. "Sorry for the ambush, Hawke, but it's probably best to clear the air all around, right?" Without waiting for her answer, he headed for the door again.
Brianna sat in shock for a moment at the sudden turn of events before a thought struck her, and she turned to yell after Varric, "Don't you dare write any of this down!"
Varric turned to her at the door, an affronted look on his face as he put a hand to his chest. "Now, Hawke, would I do something like that?"
"Yes," she muttered, but he'd already closed the door, leaving her alone with Isabela. Brianna turned back to her, wondering just what it was that the pirate wanted to talk to her about – and if it was even worth listening to.
