(As always, nothing belongs to me; I'm just playing with Bioware's property.)
When she returned to the Chantry, she was wearing her armor, the familiar weight of her knives at the back of her shoulders. Now, people recognized her, the rising star of the city, but she'd long grown used to ignoring the looks and murmurs of the people of Hightown. Her gaze was steady and unwavering as she went to the Chantry.
The brother had been waiting for her, true to his word, though the job he had given her was not as she would have expected, after their previous exchange. "Just bodyguard work?" she asked, almost disappointed at the ease of the task before her.
"If you feel that is beneath you-"
"No." She shook her head quickly, "it is simply a surprise, after our previous... acquaintance."
He looked away, unable to meet her steady gaze, "Recent revelations have lead me to reconsider my previous... bloodthirsty actions. I wish to resolve these matters peacefully, but I am no fool, to go in trusting."
Nodding, Hawke said, "You know that I do not work alone. My skills do not lend themselves to bodyguard work," reaching up, she put one hand on the hilt of a smooth-handled knife.
"I trust that you will assemble what companions you deem appropriate," Sebastian said, obviously relieved at this deviation of subject.
It would have to be Aveline, she reflected. Bodyguard work was about intimidation, and she and Isabela made a poor picture as far as that was concerned. Her first choice would be to have two swords, for this, but- she shook her head, banishing her thoughts.
"Serah Hawke?"
"Please, just Hawke, Sebastian," he had given her his name, and so she would use it. "We can have our social call tomorrow, if you wish."
That made him stiffen suddenly in his seat, "So soon? I know you are a busy woman. I do not wish to put you-"
"We are between jobs, at the moment. If that is all, I must inform my companions."
"Allow me to see you out," when he offered her his arm, it was with all the grace of a courtier and none of the reserve of a Chantry brother.
He smelled like... feathers, and some other, subtle scent that she could not name. Did beeswax have a scent? She couldn't remember from her time talking to Varric while he tended Bianca. Forcing her thoughts to more coherency than her tired mind wanted to indulge in, she blurted, "Why me?"
Clearing his throat, the exiled prince paused at the end of the aisle way, "I had been hoping to meet with you since your return. It is merely fortune that you came to the Chantry this day. I would have expected to see the famous mercenary of Kirkwall in the Chantry more often." There was a gentle reproach in his voice.
Firmly, Hawke said, "I do not need the reminders of the Chant to know where my duties lie. If you intend to preach to me, prince, tell me now."
"Of course not. I have no right to, at the moment," he admitted, "I have not retaken my vows."
"Oh?"
"A conversation for another time, perhaps. I shall send my message and look forward to meeting with you on the morrow," he released her arm with a bow.
It was an hour before Aveline could see her, but Hawke was familiar enough with the guards in her service that she could pass the time on dice and gossip. Donnic was the butt of no few jokes, and the guard looked relieved when his captain finally appeared in the doorway, freeing him from the jokes and jeers of his companions.
Retreating to her office, Aveline raised an eyebrow at Hawke, "Work, finally? I was beginning to think you didn't appreciate my company."
"You're a busy woman," Hawke said lightly, carefully sliding aside some papers to lean on Aveline's desk.
"Is Fenris still missing?" When the rogue refused to meet her eyes, Aveline swore quietly, "It's been a week, Hawke. Do you think he might be gone for-"
"Three days."
"What?"
With an awkward smile, Hawke shrugged, "I talked to him three days ago. Two nights ago, actually."
"And." Somehow, it never seemed as if Aveline's questions really were; there was far too much air of command. There was a creak of armor, and when she finally looked up, Hawke was unsurprised to see that she'd crossed her arms.
"He's still in Kirkwall." Taking a smaller knife from a sheath on her belt, Hawke began studiously trimming her nails.
Sighing, Aveline relaxed her posture, "That bad, huh?"
"He told me to stop sitting in his mansion. I assume that means he's sticking around, at least." Flexing her hand, she studied her work.
"You left it like that?"
The voice was better suited to a training field than to a private conversation between friends, Hawke thought, sourly. "He told me he would find me. I didn't want to push him."
"Hawke."
Even before she met Aveline's gaze, Hawke knew what was going to come out of her friend's mouth. Before she said it, she was struck by the impulse to hit her friend for it. Sighing, she forced herself to look over.
"Sometimes friends push."
The impulse lasted for nearly a second before Hawke visibly deflated, dropping her little paring knife to her side. "You didn't talk to him. It's... a delicate situation."
"Says you," Aveline said, snorting.
"Exactly." Hawke met her gaze earnestly, "Just think how bad a situation has to be before I think it's too delicate to push."
Defeated, the guard held up her hands, "Alright. What's the work?"
"Remember the Starkhaven Prince playing at being a Chantry brother?"
Scowling, Aveline asked, "Was that the job killing the mercenaries?" At Hawke's nod, she shook her head, "I was always uncomfortable with that job. Who does he want us to kill now?"
"Hopefully, no one," she made no effort to hide her relief that Aveline was so easily dissuaded. "It's bodyguard work. A little beneath us, but he sought me out and requested us specifically."
"Requested 'us'?" Aveline's arms crossed again.
"Well. Whoever I decided. You're a better choice than Isabela. The only one she'd be likely to intimidate is the Chantry brother."
"Since when do you care what our employers think?"
It was a valid point; it might be entertaining to see the pirate and the prince in his immaculate white holy armor. Hawke spent a moment pondering that, and her lips twisted into the first real smile of the day.
"Oh no. Forget I said anything."
"What?" Her expression was the picture of innocence.
"It's never good when you get that look on your face. When do you need my sword?"
"Are you free at all tomorrow?"
Aveline didn't have to think about it, "Not in the morning. How long do you expect this bodyguarding to take?"
"It should be quick, once I tell our employer. Thank you, Aveline."
"Mmm. Boring work for us. At least it's a good body to be guarding."
Hawke caught the wicked look on the red-haired guard's face, and she smiled back, "What would Donnic say?"
"Oh, get out, you. Go bother someone else."
Impishly, Hawke blew the guard a kiss before she ducked out the door.
There was work tomorrow, her mother had been pleased by her this morning... it wasn't a bad day, all told. Varric should be at the Hanged Man, and Isabela. It was a good day to get roaring drunk.
A/N: Warning, the next chapter earns every bit of the mature rating.
