Blood and Wretched Tea

"This part I know about. Hawke returned to the city walking very carefully and broke under my questioning." Varric chuckled, recalling the shade of red that coloured Hawke's cheeks as he pried the story from her. Actually, her unusual amount of discomfort while talking about taking out a Tal Vashoth base clued him in to the fact that the Arishok might be jabbing her with more than his sword. Normally she acted out her mighty battles, invisible cleavers swinging through the air. That night, she curled up around the details of her days away, clutching them tighter than a dwarven merchant's gold.

"Within a glass of taking out the dragon—"

The Seeker lifted a hand, cutting him off. "Let's take a few moments." She stood and headed toward the stairs. "Get yourself an ale, I believe the lads opened a fresh keg."

Varric followed, grinning to himself as she trotted up the stairs two at a time then locked herself in the water closet. Ha! He might just have a future writing erotic fiction. The counter in the back of his head racked up a new total on his 'The Chantry owes Hawke' tab as he poured himself an ewer of what turned out to be Hawke's finest clover and raspberry mead.

It worried him, Hawke's deepening relationship with the Arishok. Not that he could do much other than watch and hope for the best. Hawke accepted counselling on many matters, but she turned into the most stubborn of snapping turtles when anyone brought up the qunari. Varric believed his best friend was working on finding a way to get the qunari out of the city without a fight, and she worried that one of the more talkative of her companions might let her plan slip.

And, of course, she had been, but her reticence about the Arishok had nothing to do with removing the qunari threat.

"All right." The Seeker threw herself down into her chair, an ewer of mint water sloshing as she thumped it down onto the side table. "You actually know what happened through this part of the story?"

Varric nodded and took a long swig of the mead. Andraste's knickers, he hadn't tasted anything that good in a very long time. After another swig, he settled in, beginning his tale.

The Arishok led the way back up the mountain to the Tal Vashoth camp. Pushing herself, Hawke focused on channeling her pain and weakness into the fire, managing to keep herself on her feet and moving forward. Just before they reached the main path, he stopped and turned to face her, his scowl translating to concern when he stepped into her.

His thumb swept across her brow and down her cheek, his scowl deepening. "You are in pain," he said matter of a factly. Without giving her a chance to confirm or deny it, he pulled a waterskin off his belt. "Drink."

Hawke opened her mouth to say she had her own, but a single shake of his head changed her mind. "Thank you, Arishok." She pulled the stopper and took a drink. Expecting water, she nearly spat the bitter tea straight at him. Sputtering a little, she managed to swallow, but not without making a face. She chose not to see the amusement in his eyes, focusing instead on the gesture … his concern. He held his emotions so close to his chest that anyone who didn't focus a considerable amount of effort into learning to read his minute tells would think him lost to stoicism. She knew better.

She took another, absent drink, coming even closer to spitting it out as it crept up on her. Maker, it didn't taste any better than the first time, sitting on the table in the Arishok's quarters, her side held together by a ridiculous number of sutures. When she tried to hand the skin back, the Arishok shook his head, making her drink another five swallows before he accepted it.

He waited, staring into her eyes for long moments before he gave a soft grunt, nodded and turned back to the path. When Hawke set out after him, a grin bloomed across her face. The pain had eased and her legs felt steadier under her. Whatever the wretched tasting stuff was, it helped. In hindsight, it had probably been the only reason she made it back to her home that day. Maybe it didn't taste that bad after all. She grinned and jogged a few steps to catch up.

They climbed, Hawke's eyes shifting between the trail and the broad shoulders ahead of her. As the sun slipped toward the horizon, the shadows stretching dark and chill behind them, questions began to whisper through the pain. 'Why' began most of them. Why her? Why had he initiated sex when it could never be anything else? Why had she accepted? The whats followed close behind the whys. What now? What were they to one another? What did she do when everything went back to normal? Did she want everything to go back to normal?

She ran straight into the Arishok's back, nearly falling on her aching backside before a hand gripped her upper arm, keeping her on her feet. The searching stare focused on her face again, his brow furrowing a little, but the concern didn't return. She nodded, letting him know that she was fine, just unforgivably oblivious given the circumstances.

Looking up, she saw the sun had fallen behind the mountains, the light just clinging to their shoulders. The Arishok crouched, lowering his huge frame to about the height of an average human, and motioned for her to come forward. Hawke nodded and crept up the trail, her boots silent on the rock. Two Tal Vashoth stood outside the mouth of a cave, but she knew they wouldn't be the only sentinels.

She signalled to the Arishok that she was going to circle around to look for hidden guards. Leaving the path, she circled behind rock and bushes, finally climbing an outcropping to get a bird's eye view. Halfway up, she laid down, biting her lip to suppress a moan that wasn't entirely thanks to pain as her battered and swollen breasts pressed against her armour. After taking a second to center herself, she lifted herself just high enough to clear the rock and crawled forward.

Three Tal Vashoth sat just below her perch, roasting a nug over a small fire. She bit down on the inside of her bottom lip, worrying it as she considered her options. She couldn't take all five at once. Not with their javelins. She'd have a five foot chunk of metal and wood sticking through some part of her in under a minute.

If she attacked the guards at the cave mouth, this group would enter the fray before she could even get one of the others down. However, if she was quick, she might be able to get one or two of these down before they could raise an alarm. Even if they did, the guards at the cave mouth wouldn't be in a rush to abandon their posts, it being the more vital position.

Wriggling back down the rock, she left them to their nug, needing to check the rest of the area before committing to battle. Fifteen minutes later, she returned to where the Arishok waited. She signalled the enemy positions and her intention to take out the hidden enemy first. When he nodded his approval, she returned to the outcropping of rock. She rested at the top, her entire body screaming for mercy. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, centering herself and channelling the pain into strength. If there was one thing she knew for certain, the Arishok never asked her for anything that she could not give.

It was a test. She knew that as surely as she had ever known anything, but it wasn't a test to prove her worth to him. He'd more than adequately demonstrated his esteem. No, this was about proving her worth to herself. Somehow, he knew that she'd start second guessing herself and what they'd done about the same time her clothes hit her back. And she had. Over the hour long climb, she'd focused on the questions 'why me' and 'what now'. Her brain's responses ranged from the practical and believable—blood heated to boiling by a good dragon fight—to the ridiculous … she blushed as the crazier ones played through her memory, then forced her herself to focus on the fight ahead.

She crouched and waited until her legs steadied before picking up a large rock. Giving it a good heave, she lobbed it into the bushes on the far side of the clearing, away from the cave. The Tal Vashoth alerted, but made no move to investigate. She cursed their lack of curiosity and threw another. This time they stood, one leaving the clearing to check it out. One of the others followed, but only went as far as the edge of the campsite.

A grim smile of satisfaction split her face. Good enough.

Hawke pulled her dagger and slipped down onto the back of the closest, sinking her dagger into his spine at the base of his skull. He dropped without a sound.

Hawke rolled clear, leaving her dagger buried in her first victim. She shrugged her cleavers into her hands and jumped toward the second Tal Vashoth even as he turned to see what was going on. She spun, her foot sweeping out to get him off his feet, the edge of her right hand cleaver sinking into his throat before he could call out.

The third Tal Vashoth returned to the campsite, stopping dead at the sight of his dead companions, but Hawke kicked the side of his knee, shattering it before he could register her presence. He went down with a grunt of pain, but then his head toppled from his neck and rolled to the fire pit. Hawke shouldered her cleavers and hurried over to retrieve her dagger. She wiped it off with a handful of grass then crept toward the mouth of cave.

The shaky looseness of her joints and the trembling in her long muscles let her know in no uncertain terms that she didn't have the stamina for a drawn out fight. She needed to take at least one of the sentries from stealth.

Sticking to the deepening shadows, Hawke closed in. The two men remained alert but relaxed, obviously having heard nothing. She moved in on one, keeping a short stack of crates between them. Once she managed to wriggle herself in close enough, she leaned out, snicking through the tendons and ligaments behind his knee with her dagger. The giant went down, calling out more from confusion than pain or fear, but then she grabbed him around the neck, her blade silencing him permanently,

The second came for her, but Hawke rolled clear, hitting her feet, her cleavers already in her hands. The dance began, Hawke having the advantage in speed and agility, the qunari taking the advantage in nearly everything else. With each swing, parry or dodge, Hawke felt her reactions slowing, her cleavers dragging heavier and heavier in her hands. Still, she stayed with him, immersing herself in the dance, her blades sweeping in graceful cuts that found their way past his defences. At last, he went down, knocked back by a kick to his solar plexus, and she ended his life.

Hawke gasped for air, her cleavers held ready, but slowly sinking toward the ground. When she saw no evidence of the fight having alerted anyone, she shouldered her weapons and reached for her water skin.

The Arishok approached, surveying her handiwork with a slight nod. He reached up, stopping her from drinking, then passed her the flask from his belt. "Drink this."

"Thank you, Arishok." She took the flask, gulping down five quick mouthfuls. It didn't taste nearly as bad that time. After a couple more draughts, warmth spread through her, the trembling and constant pain easing. A few more and the fatigue drew back enough that she felt the fire burning in her belly again. Every breath she took pressed her breasts against her armour, and every time she shifted her weight, raw, tender surfaces rubbed against one another.

A soft grunt accompanied a nod, and he held out his hand. "That is enough. Drink your water."

"Thank you, Arishok." Hawke passed the skin back then drank deeply from her own. Sated, she hung it back on her belt and looked up at the sky. The sun had disappeared completely, the sky along the horizon already a deep navy. No doubt he intended for her to clear the cave, since they had come this far, and he didn't do anything by halves. She rested for another moment, then stepped into the mouth of the cave. She needed to clear the outer chamber before she lost the light completely.

The tunnel was clear as far as she could see ahead, but obvious sounds of life echoed along the rock. She crouched and closed her eyes, sorting through the layers of sound. The cave had four chambers. Four Tal Vashoth moved in the first chamber, three in the next, but the center one held at least ten. Their conversations and movements overlapped so that she couldn't decipher them all.

Two sets of leisurely footsteps warned her of a patrol about to enter the tunnel where she crouched. She moved to find cover, but the Arishok cleared his throat. When she glanced over at him, he shook his head. Nodding in reply, she dug down deep for the stamina and guts she knew he could see.

The two Tal Vashoth walked into the tunnel, not noticing her until she moved to strike. They froze, staring at her for a moment before noticing the Arishok at the mouth of the cave. Their confusion at the odd pair of intruders gave Hawke her opening. She charged them, one cleaver high, the other at waist level.

One threw a javelin at her, but she turned sideways, easily avoiding it. She spun out of the way of the next. It grazed her armour, but didn't find flesh. She completed the spin with a kick that landed squarely in the first one's gut. He staggered back, but she merely stepped through the kick, swinging her other leg around to connect with his knee. Falling, he died even before he hit the ground.

The second managed to throw another javelin, but she knocked it aside with her cleavers, leaped nimbly into the air, bringing both cleavers down, one on each side of his neck. He flailed, knocking her aside. Hawke rolled when she hit the ground, bouncing back to her feet. She flipped her cleavers around her hands then stepped into a sideways slash that sliced through his throat.

Hawke leaned against one knee, breathing hard, her cleavers dripping blood onto the crushed rock. The Arishok walked up to stand a few feet away. He said nothing. Hawke closed her eyes, her senses stretched out into the environment as she collected herself once more. There were a lot more warriors waiting to meet her blades.

Wind regained, she struck out for the next chamber. Although the Tal Vashoth held the advantage in that she entered their space, the dance lasted only a few minutes. Hawke kept moving, her stamina becoming so tenuous that she was afraid to stop. She carved through the three in the second chamber, stumbling as one of their swords pierced her defences and sank into the muscle of her side. She spun away, turning into the blade to yank it from his grip, then pulled it free and tossed it to the other side of the chamber.

By the time she finished them off, she was beginning to believe that this particular lesson might just end with her death. Her entire body screamed, the high pitched shrill of a nug in a mabari's jaws, and nothing eased the trembling in her limbs. Fatigue moved in and set up house.

Enough of that. The longer she stood there, the weaker she'd get. She listened to goings on in the last chamber and let out a long, resigned sigh. Eight more. How was she supposed to take them all? She could barely stand.

The Arishok thrust his drinking skin into her hand. She took a couple sips, gasping weakly between them.

"More," he said quietly.

She gulped down another couple of mouthfuls, sinking to one knee on the gravel. Leaning heavily on her thigh, she swallowed another gulp or three, the warmth of the liquid finally seeping through her tissues. The Arishok reached down for the skin. She passed it back and staggered to her feet.

Before she moved away, he cupped his hand behind her neck. "Look at me." Squeezing the back of her neck gently, he held her still until she did as he asked, meeting his concern with a nod and a deep breath. He returned her nod, but didn't release her for another few seconds.

"I'm fine," she whispered, despite being fairly sure she was anything but. Reaching up, she laid her hand over his for a moment, then turned toward the entrance to the main chamber. She wouldn't let him down.

The entrance to the final chamber was a narrow passage about five feet long. If she could force them to engage her there, she would be able to negate some of the advantage they had in numbers. At least they wouldn't be able to flank her. Out in the open, they would bring her down within seconds. She glanced up at the Arishok, but he just regarded her with the same unreadable, neutral expression, apparently letting her decide how best to deal with the challenge. She took a deep breath and turned to the passage.

Standing in the narrow entrance, she pulled her dagger, rolling her wrists and shoulders to ease the stiffness in them. For a moment, she considered calling out, but decided it was best to not alert them all at once and bring them stampeding down on her. Instead she waited patiently, using the time to center herself the best she could.

One noticed her standing there and took a step forward, nudging the fellow next to him. They approached her seeming more curious than anything else. One made a comment to the other and they both laughed. Hawke wasn't sure she wanted to know what they were saying. None of the Tal Vashoth she had fought over the months showed any interest in anything other than killing her. They'd never tried to capture her, so she'd assumed that rape wasn't something that occurred to them. Still, she'd rather not test that theory. She wondered if the Arishok would stand by if it came to that, or if he would step in and put her down himself.

Neither of the men approaching drew their swords. Their overconfidence when facing a tiny female human often proved to be their downfall. She smiled at them, a quick, hard flick of her wrist embedding her dagger into the eye socket of the one who first noticed her. He staggered into his companion, knocking him off balance.

Hawke leaped forward, severing the spine and opening the artery of the second before he registered what had happened. She retreated to the passage as others noticed the sudden activity and closed in. She hefted her cleavers and rolled her wrists, suddenly wishing that she'd had Sebastian teach her archery.

Five rushed her at once as the shock wore off, and they realized they were under attack. Hawke dodged javelins, knocking some aside with her cleavers. Then they were on top of her and the dance began in earnest. She sank deep into herself, her eyesight softening and losing a little focus as she opened it to a wider view.

Although the dance suffered for her weariness, she slowly whittled away at them, using the entrance to control their numbers and movement. They attempted to drag her forward so they could circle behind her, but patience had found a home in her heart and her head. She waited until she saw her moments, although taking advantage of them proved more difficult. Slow and heavy, her cleavers lagged rather than soaring as they had hours and hours before.

She began to doubt her ability to finish out the fight, her legs trembling so hard that she barely turned two strikes from a spear. She swiped at the last lunge, going down on one knee. The Tal Vashoth taunted her, jeering, the spearman coming in for an up close kill. Hawke turned her cleavers in her hands, rolled her wrists out, then swiped across, crossing her arms. Both blades struck true on the insides of the spearman's thighs. He fell, tendons sliced through as well as both major blood vessels.

Hawke staggered up, bringing his spear with her. Before the remaining Tal Vashoth comprehended that his companion had been taken down by a woman on the edge of collapse, the spear punched through the soft spot just under the join of his ribs, then erupted out next to his spine. He stumbled, going down on one knee, then with the flick of a cleaver, Hawke cut his throat.

Dripping blood, she went down onto her knees again, one hand pressed to the gravel. Between wheezing breaths, she listened to be sure that she'd finished them all off. Silence reigned. She glanced behind her. The Arishok stood a pace behind her, his sword and axe in hand. Grimacing, she sank down onto her heels. He'd thought the fight his to finish. He heart dropped, until she looked into his face. The expression burning there wasn't disappointment or pity.

The small display of emotion disappeared as he hung up his weapons and gave her a single nod, but she knew she'd seen it. Her doubts about her fate if Tal Vashoth managed to get her down faded. She returned his nod, but stayed on the ground, more than content to keep him waiting for a few more seconds. That determination lasted only until the chill started to seep into her muscles. If she stayed down too long, her muscles would seize, and while the wound in her side wasn't all that serious, the cold and exhaustion made the walking death a very real threat.

Using the spear, she shoved herself up, resting for a moment on her knees before heaving one foot under her and staggering up. She hung up her cleavers and hobbled into the main chamber, staying cautious just in case anyone hid, lying in wait. However, nothing moved and she made it to one of the fires before she went down on one knee again.

The Arishok had followed, keeping to a distance, but when she hit the gravel, he motioned for her to remain where she was. Grabbing two of the Tal Vashoth by an arm, he dragged them from the chamber. She watched him go, wondering why he bothered. Perhaps he intended to stay there that night. Her entire body cheered at that thought despite the gelid air working its way through her clothing to gnaw at her.

Hawke leaned against her thigh, the gravel digging into her knee until it became more uncomfortable than she was exhausted, and she shoved herself to her feet. She stumbled over to a set of stairs and lowered herself onto the top one. She groaned as all the raw and bruised bits of her complained, but then just told them to shut up and took a few swigs from her water skin.

It didn't make a bad spot to spend the night. Fires dotted the floor of the chamber, simple pallets made out of blankets and grass arranged around them. Baskets of food, hanging kills, stocks of firewood lined the far wall. A small spring trickled down the rock into a clay pot.

"All the comforts of home." She curled her lip at the dead. "Well, except for them."

The Arishok returned with an armload of fir sprays from the trees outside the cave. He dumped them next to one of the fires and walked over to her. He offered her his drinking skin, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine, thank you." She looked up into his eyes. "Are we returning to the city?"

"Not tonight." He nodded toward the hanging deer carcass. "Carve off some meat and start it roasting while I dispose of this ... filth."

Hawke nodded, just a weary dip of her head. She felt run over by a herd of druffalo. "As you command, Arishok." She looked down at herself and shuddered. Blood, clumps of hair, and things she didn't even want to think about covered her from head to toe. First, she needed to splash down her armour and wash. She harboured no desire to eat any of the things clinging to her.

Before she stood, she stripped off her armour. Pushing up off the stairs, she thumped down the last couple on wobbly, wooden legs. Maybe she'd feel a little more human after she got the gore washed from her skin.