Hawke whistled lightly to himself as he strolled through the grand corridor of the Kirkwall capitol building, feeling better as he distanced himself from the Viscount and his nobles. Damn these stubborn elites. Of course there will be consequences for their actions. He shook himself, willing all thoughts of work to dissipate from him, and replacing them easily with thoughts of dinner, his stomach rumbling.
Rabbit curry, hm? He smiled to himself, waving to a servant he recognized on his way to the kitchens. What kind of wine would pair well with rabbit curry?
"Afternoon, miss," he nodded to a maid who was coming up from the stairs down to the lower kitchen floors. Hawke's whistling echoed off the cramped walls of the darkly lit stairwell, plain and dirty as it was for only the service staff as opposed to the rich and decorated rooms of the capitol.
With the Maker's blessing, Olivia will be working tonight!
Hawke entered into the bustling kitchen, rife with elves and humans cooking, cleaning, and preparing dishes, the noise of dozens of hurried voices and the clinking of pots and pans a constant drone. Hawke's sharp blues swept the place quickly, finally spotting the head chef over in the corner in front of the biggest pot Hawke had ever seen.
"'Scuse me, sorry," Hawke weaved around the working people, aware of his bulky and spiky armor that could easily bump into someone or their work and navigating his way carefully. The large, middle-aged elven woman turned and placed a hand on her hip, her apron smeared and her hair a frizzy mess, her kind brown eyes hardened by her suspicious look.
"Hawke! What are you doing back in my kitchens?!" Olivia raised her brows and kept up her glare, and Hawke bowed deeply when he approached her, the kitchen staff working around him without any time to spare him a glance.
"Madam Olivia! Your cooking always smells like I dream heaven might," Hawke smiled at her charmingly, and the older woman made a noise of protest in her throat, though he could see her chocolate gaze soften as she looked at him.
"You sneaky block. You wouldn't happen to know where that extra shipment of marshmallows ran off to?" she pointed her wooden spoon at him accusationally, and he held up both hands, feigning a look of innocence that couldn't conceal his cheeky grin.
"Madam I have no idea of what you speak! I would never rob our lawful noble men their scrumptious desserts!"
Olivia snorted into her hand, pointing with her wooden spoon up to the ceiling above, her eyes smiling wickedly. "These poor men have had to go through their days with only three courses for their supper instead of four. How will they fare without their sweets?"
Hawke snickered as the older woman chuckled, the softness and kindness warming her brown gaze as she regarded him. "Oh, I've been meaning to send a boy to give you a message; about the matter with my girls, I don't know what you did, but that one lawmaker won't even look at my maids now, much less put his hands where he shouldn't."
Hawke nodded discretely and gave her a small smile. "Good. That bastard deserved to get a little roughed up. Had to stop myself from giving him more than a few bruises and a bloody nose."
Olivia leaned on a hip, smiling at him meaningfully. "I mean it, Hawke. My girls can breathe again. You did good."
Hawke bowed his head, happy. "I'm so glad to hear it. Your maids should feel safe where they work."
Olivia patted his metal arm guard, meeting his eyes expectantly. "Now. What can I do for you? You've got five minutes before I have to start the stir fry."
Hawke brought his hands together sheepishly, looking at her hopefully. "I, well, my friend is coming over to cook me her homemade rabbit curry tonight, and I wonder what wine would pair well with it, if you had any thoughts?"
Olivia cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at him. She looked at him for a moment and he squirmed under her knowing gaze, before she huffed lightly, a smile tugging her smirk. "A friend, eh? This the same Dalish girl that brought you to the Spring Equinox, the same one I hear so much about? You're having her over, she's cooking you a nice dinner, that you need some fine wine for I'm guessing? Sounds romantic," she nudged him with her elbow, and Hawke felt a warm blush shoot through him as he quickly shook his head.
"Ah, no, ah, just a friend, and yes just a nice dinner and some nice wine, well, you know, if Kirkwall kitchens could spare to misplace a bottle or two…?" he fumbled as Olivia's smile grew. She dismissed his refutal with a wave of her hand as she gestured for him to follow her to the cellar.
"Oh, sure, sure, just a friend," she said sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes at him and he stumbled after her awkwardly. "Rabbit curry, eh? And Dalish rabbit curry, huh, you know they always like to spice everything up like they'll lose their taste buds tomorrow, so something sweet and fruity would probably be the best…" she trailed off as she led Hawke down into the dark cellar lined with cases and cases of aging wine.
"You're the absolute best, Madam Olivia," Hawke thanked her as she stopped near a stack of cases, bending down to read the label in the dim light.
"Ah-hah," she tapped a case near the bottom of the stack, and she lifted two or three cases from the top to reach her pick. "This, would be perfect." she dusted off the case before picking it up to hand to Hawke. "This is a good year, too. Don't drink too fast, you hear me, or a fun night will turn to a not so fun night in a blink. Now," she met his gaze fiercely as she shoved the box into his arms, and Hawke stood up straighter, eyes wide as she gave him a look. "Mister, during your 'non-romantic' dinner date, you will not do any funny business to that sweet girl while you're both drinking this good wine, yeah?" she raised an eyebrow at him as his ears turned red and his chest shuddered in embarrassment.
"Madam Olivia-! Please," he sputtered, clutching onto the wine case. "I swear-!"
"Good," she nodded and spun, striding towards the stairs out of the cellar as Hawke tried not to fall apart. Sweet Maker, this woman. He shook his head and swallowed as he followed the short older woman out of the cellar, holding on to a case of wine more expensive than the armor he wore on his body.
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Her screams, filling the dark room. The screams of pain, the screams of frustration, the screams of childbirth.
Childbirth. The birth, of her son.
Not my son. Lyra thought darkly as she strung her bow. She had slept until late afternoon, the bloody sun on its decent as she walked briskly outside of the city.
I don't deserve to call him my son. I didn't care for him. I didn't raise him. Her thoughts swirled like a violent storm, her brief sleep since this morning marred by intense nightmares of the night that happened three years ago, today. She trudged resolutely into the forest, head still in her nightmare. I left him.
"Stop," she said out loud to herself, physically stopping in her tracks and closing her eyes. Stop. I can't get wrapped up in the past. Breathe. She opened her eyes, thoughts reigning in:
I won't be alone tonight. She thought of sturdy arms, deep gentle voice, and soft blue eyes of a friend.
At once her shoulders dropped in relief, the lines on her face smoothed, and her breath came easier. Aedan. I'll be alright.
Her eyes widened, suddenly remembering what she was even doing out here in the woods. Rabbit curry! I must hunt!
She shook off the rest of the anxiety stiffening her limbs, focusing fully on her surroundings. The trees had started to become thicker; she was far enough out, to find some game. She strolled silently, her leather boots padding on the forest ground without leaving a trace, and she spotted a patch of dense bushes up ahead. Engaging her mana briefly, she closed her eyes and kindled her nature magic, sensing without a doubt a dozen or so little life signatures hiding among the foliage. Perfect.
She stopped where she was, fifty or so feet away from where she thought a burrow could be, and turned to the closest tree. She flexed her hands before quickly scaling the tree, eyes sharp on a thick branch fifteen or so feet up above. She climbed up, perching on the branch and assessing her immediate surroundings. Another tree with a set of sturdy branches stood 10 feet away; closer to where she wanted to go. She stilled herself, letting her heart rate rest, and concentrated on the spot where she wanted to grab on to. Engaging her thighs, she leapt over the gap, grabbing a hold onto the other tree and quickly pulling herself up to a place where she could perch.
This is a good spot, she thought to herself, surveying the ground below. The branch she crouched on only obscured part of her vision, and she felt jumping down from this height if she had to.
She then drew her bow and knocked a trusted arrow, fingering the fletchings and testing the bowstring. Mana, hesitant but comfortable, pooled into her being from the depths of her body, and she focused the energy into her forehead, closing her eyes to release it.
She let out a concussive force, the blast startling every living animal within a hundred foot radius of her, and her eyes flew open as her hands tightened around her bow.
Birds flew from the trees around her but she was focused on the ground, and there, a dozen or so brown blurs jumped out of the bushes, running every which way in their fright. She released her arrow instinctively, and in less than a second drew another before releasing again.
The movement was over in a few seconds, the animals going back into hiding and the leaves settling from the rustle. Lyra breathed again, and smiled to herself, seeing her two arrows each stick out of a rabbit.
She dropped down onto the forest floor, sheathing her bow and drawing a hunting knife. I've still got it. Both rabbits were pierced through the head, instant and merciful kills that also left the meat untarnished.
She bent down, thinking to herself as she cleaned her kills. Now to find some herbs, and then to run back home to grab my vegetables. Tonight will be good.
She sighed slightly and nodded to herself, feeling the thoughts of this anniversary begin to creep back into her mind, but the thought of Hawke held them at bay. Tonight will be good.
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I'm early, Hawke thought to himself, walking down the streets to Lowtown as the sunset was just ending, knowing he shouldn't expect Lyra to be ready for dinner just yet but having to travel to the alienage for business with Merrill anyways. I might as well walk back with her to Hightown when we're both done with our errands.
He frowned then, thinking of his business with Merrill. Her fascination with that old magic mirror had begun to worry him, and he had grown even more worried when she had asked him to come over and see something about it for himself.
Hawke sighed to himself as he turned the corner to the alienage, the streets now so familiar to him and a few of the neighbor faces recognizing him. He smiled to an elven man waving to him as he walked into the square, and then he blinked, realizing the man was only wearing a towel around his waist.
"Evening, Hawke!" he waved casually as he walked back to his hovel in nothing but sandals and a small towel, holding nothing but a rag and a bottle of something. Hawke shook himself at the strange sight, remembering the new public plumbing system Lyra had set up and figuring the man had just been washing himself. He turned his attention towards the center of the square then as he entered it, the giant tree in the center ever present. But behind it, where the new shower had been built, Hawke stopped in his tracks as his eyes widened.
A mass of people were gathered around the spigit, the air around the area steaming with heat, with over forty people easily, and nearly all of them were naked.
By the divine…?
Hawke walked slowly, blinking to make sure he was seeing this right. A large group of people were casually washing themselves, some with buckets, taking turns gathering water and using the shower, most as nude as the day they were born. Men, women, children, older people, all people of all shapes and sizes went about their business washing, a lull of casual conversation reaching his blushing ears.
"Wha…?" he shook his head disbelievingly, knowing the city guard would never allow such public displays of nudity, but quickly remembering that the guard avoided the elven alienage as much as they avoided Darktown.
"Hawke?" he blinked as he watched one of the naked bodies in the mass of naked bodies walk towards him, and it took him some effort to focus his eyes. When he did, however, he sucked in a breath and quickly covered his eyes.
"Ah, Merrill!" he laughed nervously, looking away and shielding his eyes with a hand.
"Hawke you could make it today! I was thinking you'd come by tomorrow…" she said lightly before realizing Hawke's reaction. "Hawke? Are you alright? You...oh!" she sounded surprised, and Hawke glanced to her face between his fingers to see her surprised face, her short hair wet and her hands moving to wrap her towel around herself. "Sorry, Hawke, I must've forgot you were human, I've just learned recently that not everyone just washes themselves together, I was quite surprised when they said humans have such an aversion to having no clothes on," she rambled happily, and Hawke chuckled forcefully, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Ah, yes, I'm sorry too for my cultural bias, you just took me by surprise, it's my bad," he wrung his hands and tried not to look at all the naked people behind her, focusing intently on her face. "You ready to show me that mirror?"
"Yes!" she nodded, eyes wide, and then glanced behind her, thinking. "Yes, let me just let Lyra know, I'm sure her mana can handle it alone." she blinked at him and then clarified herself. "Oh, Lyra and I have started a strange, community tradition now, since we started casting heating magic on the water so we can have hot water when we bathe, and the neighbors caught wind and soon enough everyone comes to shower when one of us is showering so they can use the hot water!"
Hawke blinked at her helplessly as she rambled, and felt his chest constrict when he heard her voice from the center of the wet bodies.
"Aedan! Did you find some wine?"
His eyes instinctively flew to where her voice was walking towards them, blushed skin on taught muscles and curves that were lined all along with sprawling tattoos, a towel letting down wet red hair that framed bright blue-green eyes-
"Sweet Andraste," Hawke yelped, quickly averting his gaze as his face flushed bright in embarrassment. He crossed his arms in a desperate effort to keep his chest from exploding, and he stammered out a response. "Ah, yes, yes, I, I found wine."
He stood there steaming, wishing he could just take off running, desperately reigning in thoughts. Lush, cream skin, flushed from the heat, steam rising from the dark brown lines running down over her hips…
"Lyra, I forgot too, Hawke's a human," Merrill nudged her lightly, and Hawke cleared his throat, determinedly collecting himself. He glanced up to catch Lyra finishing wrapping her towel around her as well, and made the mistake of raising his gaze to meet her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, under a raised eyebrow, that smiled at him in a way that told him she was enjoying his embarrassment thoroughly.
"A human? We accept all here, Merrill. Hawke could bathe with us too, if he wanted," she said nonchalantly, and Hawke gave her an exasperated look, his eyes begging her please stop.
"I, I appreciate it, I'm okay," he shook his hands, and Merrill laughed lightly, charmed by his reactions.
"Hawke it's all just skin, isn't it? We all have skin, yeah?" she giggled at his silliness, and he huffed and fumbled, angrily trying to defend himself.
"I've just, I've never had to see so much, so many people all at once, okay," he groaned in protest, his two friends teasing him as he was the one fully clothed.
"Will your business take long?" Lyra asked, blessedly changing the subject. Hawke shook his head, looking to Merrill for an answer.
"No, I'll borrow Hawke for half an hour at most, do you mind holding the spell by yourself until everyone's finished washing?" Merrill asked her, and Lyra shook her head with a smile.
"Not at all, I think everyone's close to finishing." she met Hawke's eyes. "I just need to wrap up the meat and grab my ingredients, and then we're ready," her smile widened, her eyes bright as she looked up at him, so much so Hawke couldn't help but smile back at her. She looks so excited. Lyra exclaimed, "I can't wait to cook my curry!"
Hawke nodded to her with a smile, and then followed Merrill back to her small little corner in the quarter, finally feeling the heat leave his cheeks. Maker preserve me. I need to get my feelings in check.
Merrill led him into her hovel, the apartment two small rooms with nothing but a few pieces of furniture. Hawke sat down at her little table as Merrill slipped into her room to dress, his thoughts swirling in his head.
Can she tell? Lanyra is one of the most perceptive people I know, she must be able to sense how anxious I've been. And why have I felt so anxious? Am I so eager to move on from my relationship with Isabela, am I really so flippant? Am I still in the rebounding mode? What even is rebounding; I care so much for Lanyra as a friend, as a companion, almost as a mentor, she's been here for me when I've needed someone the most, I've felt more comfortable and hopeful since spending more time with her but is that the same as developing feelings for her?
Hawke was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't hear Merrill approach.
"Do you fancy Lyra?"
Hawke nearly fell out of his chair and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. "Maker, Merrill," he gave her a look, watching her expression catch up to the social cues in a usual Merrill-like fashion.
"Oh! That was a bit blunt, wasn't it?" she quickly apologized, and Hawke sighed and gave her a smile, chuckling slightly as she came to sit next to him on the only other chair she owned.
"It's quite alright, Merrill; truthfully the question shouldn't have caught me so off guard." he slumped slightly in the chair, averting his gaze and frowning to himself. I'm afraid… I'm afraid, I do fancy her. "I...I don't know." He looked up quickly with wide eyes. "She didn't say anything to you, did she?"
Merrill blinked at him and then laughed lightly, shaking her head at his fluster. "No, I was just wondering," she gave him a curious smile, continuing on even though Hawke was blushing. "It's been a few months since you and Lyra were with Isabela and Fenris; I don't really know when it's an alright time to find another in the city life. The Dalish courtship is...shall we say, more weighty? Crucial?"
Hawke cleared his throat, chuckling awkwardly. "Ah, yes, well, I guess it depends, on the nature of the relationship? Some people will wait years before finding another partner; some only wait a month. And others find someone new the next day."
"Really?" Merrill looked surprised, and Hawke nodded thoughtfully. And that's what is so confusing for me, Merrill. I've only had a few relationships in my past, and they were all pretty spread apart.
"Yes. Do the Dalish usually wait a long time before finding another partner?"
Merrill nodded. "Usually, yes. There's not so much, 'dating', like small matters, but we strive to find our bond-mate for which to spend the rest of our lives with. If it doesn't work out with a potential bond-mate, we usually wait a few seasons before searching for another."
Hawke nodded, interested. "Have you ever had a bond-mate, Merrill?"
"Me?! Oh no!" Merrill shook her head and held up her hands, and Hawke smiled and raised a brow.
"No? None of the young Dalish bucks or does catch your eye?"
"Hawke," Merrill groaned, and Hawke chuckled, successfully changing the subject from himself. Merrill stood from the table and gestured towards her other room. "Enough, let me show you what I asked you here for. I know you're probably eager to return to your hovel with a certain red-head."
Hawke coughed abruptly, then looked up at her with widened eyes to catch her knowing smile. Damn. Am I really that obvious?
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Hawke left Merrill's little home with a furrowed brow. That mirror. I do not have a good feeling about it. The sun had set; the last of its rays were giving him enough light to see the alienage by. He quickly glanced to his right and physically sighed in relief that there were no more naked people washing.
It's coupled with the fact that Merrill hasn't told Lyra about the mirror yet. She is closer to her than to me; I'd think Merrill would have confided in Lyra, a Dalish sister, about the elven mirror, before me. Could she worry that Lyra would be even more suspicious of the magic mirror, and that's why she hasn't told her?
"Are you ready?" Lyra asked in front of him, and Hawke jumped slightly at her voice. She walked up to him with a casual tunic and trousers on, with only a small curved knife on her belt. Her wet hair had been braided down her back, and she carried a bag slung over a shoulder. Her eyes smiled at him. "Sorry to sneak up on you."
"I was far too distracted," he shook his head and returned her smile, gesturing for them to start towards the stairs leading out of the alienage. He looked down at her beside him. "You have all the ingredients you need?"
She perked up and nodded. "Yes, the meat is freshly skinned and salted, and the vegetables are of high quality. I have my full spice arsenal with me and I don't think you're ready," she patted her bag, barely masking her excitement.
Hawke chuckled, raising a brow at her, but seeing, underneath the excitement, the sag in her shoulders and the way the light didn't quite fill her eyes. When she asked to cook in my kitchen, she was really asking to not be alone tonight. She mentioned today being a hard anniversary for her.
"Yeah, the only spice I grew up on was salt. Your spicy cuisine will probably kill me, to be honest," he said aloofly, and Lyra laughed, brushing his arm.
They walked for a moment, and before Hawke could ask her, Lyra began, her voice low and uncertain.
"So, I… three years ago, today, I gave birth to the prince of Ferelden."
Hawke blinked, quickly reminding himself of the epic story that was her life before Kirkwall. Of course, she would have given birth 9 to 10 months after the slaying of the Archdemon, since the inception was the night before, and the anniversary for the end of the Blight is around 3 months away.
Hawke looked down at her as they walked, her expression controlled, but her eyes sad. "I just can't help but think about, what he… how he's doing. What he looks like." she closed her eyes and sighed forlornly. "I know I shouldn't dwell. He has two amazing parents; the King is an oaf sometimes but I know he's a good father, and the Queen, she was kind to me in the end, and I know she loves my- the prince," Lyra frowned, stopping herself from calling him 'my son'.
Hawke wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked, and she rested her head against his shoulder, accepting the comfort easily. He sighed as well, knowing there was no way he could understand what she feeling, but wanting to convey to her that he cared.
"Three year old. I think I held my first wooden sword at three years." Hawke murmured softly, and glancing down at his shoulder he saw Lyra smile.
"My first practice bow. At three I knew all the songs of my people. All the stories." she raised her head and looked up at him as they made their way into Hightown, her blue-greens searching his with a lost look. "I knew the entire history of my people by three years old. The prince..." she looked down, thoughtful. "Does the prince know about his elven heritage. Should he know, if he has two wonderful human parents, if the Dalish never do anything for him anyways. And what if he's a mage…"
She shook her head, expression disoriented, hands wringing themselves unsurely. Hawke squeezed her shoulder, getting her attention, and waiting for her eyes to focus on his before speaking gently.
"Will you tell me about when you first discovered you had magic?"
Lyra blinked at him, and then let out a breath, nodding. "Of course. I was, I think four? I'm not sure," she breathed in deeply as she collected her thoughts, and Hawke could see her calm herself, centering her focus and grounding herself. Her mind left the street they were walking on, flying off to a far away place. "My magic showed when I was young, younger than most. My affinity is for the elements, rather than the mental or spiritual arts the Dalish celebrate more. I remember accidentally setting a bush on fire when I watched a mantis catch and eat a butterfly."
"Wow," Hawke murmured, thoughtful, trying to imagine Lyra as a young girl, without tattoos. "Reminds me of Bethany. I remember when her magic showed, she was five. We were all terrified," he chuckled lightly.
She nodded, her smile coming easily. "My Keeper was so happy; my clan threw a party that night, in honor of my discovery." they walked for a while, and as Hawke looked down at her, she smiled thoughtfully. "One thing the Dalish are really good at is teaching the right mindset for bearing the burden of magic. It's never about control, or battling your desires; it's more about, living in harmony with your inner energies and maintaining a balance. That way, they never build up out of control, and we bypass the struggle circle mages face with harnessing a wild source of mana." She closed her eyes. "I hadn't touched my mana supply for years. But I still maintain my meditations, and my mind and spirit remain relatively at peace, so I do not feel a danger to myself or those around me."
Hawke nodded, everything she was saying making sense. It's that way she has about her; the calmness, she retains through meditation. Of course it would transfer to one's ability to manage and work with their magic.
"That's incredible, Lanyra. Anders would love to hear about that; proper and healthy education for mages can be learned from the Dalish, not the Circles."
She smiled and winked at him, before resting her head on his shoulder again. "You're so skillful, Aedan. At making me feel better." her voice lowered slightly, and honesty shone through her voice. "There's no one else I'd rather spend today with."
Warmth seeped through his core, and hope blossomed like tendrils of light through his body. His arm just naturally rested upon her shoulders, a little bud of pleasant tightness forming in gut from the naturalness of how their bodies aligned and leaned against each other as they walked. Hawke turned his head and whispered to her, his lips brushing her hair on the top of her head.
"You want to know a secret?"
She started at the closeness of his voice, before looking up at him with widened, curious eyes. Her cheeks reddened from the intimacy, their faces close. He smiled at her, and before he lost the nerve, leaned in even closer so that he could whisper in her ear. "You bring me the calm I need, to silence my storms."
He raised his head and looked ahead of them quickly, willing his heart to not beat quite so fast. She smells like softwood and flowers. He looked ahead but didn't see the street in front of them. He felt her head rest on his shoulder again.
"I could say the same about you."