Chapter 10- "A Traded Treasure"

(Past)

I was awakened by the sound of hinges screeching together and a loud thud as the door swung against the back wall. I sat up in a sweeping motion, rolling out of my bed and catching myself at a crouch on to the cold floor.

My mind though, didn't catch up so quickly to the old physical reaction to anything that goes bump in the night.

My eyes only caught a blur of Carver running into the room, snatching a bucket next to the desk and violently vomiting into it. I wrinkled my nose in distastes, clawing myself back into the bed and away from the frigid ground. I hid under the blankets, barreling back into them as Carver continued to retch.

This is why I don't drink.

"Ever heard of knocking?" I mutter sleepily, rubbing my eyes sadly. They felt thick and uncomfortable from the tears last night. It has been a long time since the last time I cried. I did not cry the whole time Alistair left me, and I think last nights break down had been a part of that built up depression.

"E-Ever heard of the morning," Carver weakly replies between gags.

I gave no response. Instead I curled around myself and reached out of the blanket, my fingers extending towards the floor.. reaching..

Ah!

I snatched my pack up and slithered it underneath the blanket with me. I cradle it between my knees and chest and dug around it quickly. I don't know why, but I had a dream last night...

A dream that was less violent then most. It was not the same one, where I'm battling through Darkspawn, slowly being overpowered. Nor is it the terror of that moment on the roof over and over again, when the Archdemon cut open my chest.

It was a less violent, but equally saddening dream. I hadn't dreamed of this moment in so many months, and seeing all their faces again.. it was enlightening. I honestly didn't think I remembered them so well.

My fingers met a thin, delicate chain and I fished it out of the bag, before kicking it back out of my bed and squinting down at the necklace. Well it was actually a oath pendant that is received after a joining to the Grey Wardens.

It was painful to me now, but in the dream, it was so bitter sweet. It was just there, on the tip of my tongue and his voice! Alistair's voice was the same as it always was, his face was just so handsome. My mind even conjured up a perfect replica of Duncan. Even those other men that I couldn't name, I remembered their faces.. though I did not like remembering the way they died.. it was still better then most of my dreams.

I sniffed a little, remembering back then. My hands toyed with the necklace for a long while, until I heard Carver stand up and leave the room, calling to his mother. I bet he was going to ask her to make a potion to settle his stomach.

Reluctantly I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I wasn't clothed yet, only in my underthings. I looked down at the pendant in my palm. I remembered, for the oddest reason, something I probably shouldn't. It wasn't good for my 'moving on' plan. I probably just should have left this stupid thing behind.

But I relished in my memories perfect remembrance.

His soft fingers brushing my collarbone. His warm lips, soft as the give of a peach on my mouth, kissing the underside of my jaw. My hands rested against his bare chest. The sound of the crackling fire outside of our warm, musky smelling tent. His leg intertwined with mine, while his soft voice echoed into the shell of my ear; "Do we really have to?" Alistair, complaining about the rising sun that peeked through the sky. Me, sitting up, reaching for my clothes, then being pulled back down those same fingers reaching around my neck and clasping the pendant there.

The same pendant that was in my hand now. The same pendant that had been around his neck, ever since his joining of the Grey Wardens. And that aforementioned morning, there was me, tying my own pendant of Darkspawn blood around his neck.

We traded.

And I know I shouldn't be wearing it. I took it off the day he broke it up. But he never did. I know I saw it everyday, even when Kina was around. They didn't know it was mine. He was wearing it the time of our weak moment. The same one that made me leave.

Maybe I thought too quickly last night, possibly... he didn't hate me. But that thought didn't change much, except all I knew was that I was in another weak moment. I couldn't bear being me, it hurt to be myself.. to be a mage that was full of corrupt.

Weak moments call for pathetic, meaningful gestures.

So I quickly clasped the necklace around my neck and hastened to get dressed before I could over think anything.

I hesitated to grab my staff, I didn't want the thing staring me in the face all day. In the end it had come down to the fact that I didn't particularly hate myself enough to make a suicidal decision like that, leaving myself to the digression of others with no way to fend off attacks, therefore I snatched it while bitterly muttering under my breath.

When I passed through the main room I told Carver I'll need him today and that after I went to get Varric, I wanted him to meet us up at Sundermout. Otherwise I wasted no time skidding outside and down towards The Hanging Man.

I pushed my way through the bar, which seems odd because I didn't know so many people arrive at the crack of dawn. Upon reaching Varric's room, he was there doing practically nothing.

"Varric," I trill softly, my voice was cracking from the aftermath of my tears. "Do you mind if I borrow your services for today?"

He didn't even think about it. "No problem, Hawke! Just let me grab my Bianca and we'll be on our way."

"Bianca?"

Varric withdrew a finely constructed crossbow, with a shimmering brass finishing. "Bianca," he emphasizes, petting the length of it's neck.

I fought back the instinct to grin. I loved how he could make me smile, when I couldn't.

"Think she could handle a couple Dalish elves if she has to?"

He presses forward and I lead down towards the bar. "Bianca can handle anything. But Dalish elves you say? I could tell you some stories about them.."

So could I.

"I'd love to hear them, but maybe for another time." He nods in agreement as we swerve out of the bar and as we step outside he says something further.

"You know, next time don't even ask just call my name and I'll be there."

I raised an eyebrow. "You trust me that much?"

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for pretty mages."

I choked out a laugh. Not because what he said was uncomfortable. I knew he was just throwing that out there, not offering. It's just, soundly oddly familiar to something Zev would have said. I'm actually half sure he has said that thing to me.

The rest of our travel was in silence, as we headed for Sundermout. It was not the most brutal climb I've ever had in my life and when we reached the entrance to the Dalish camp, Carver was there waiting for us.

"You're looking better," I state right off the back.

He makes a mocking face. "Yeah, yeah make fun of the guy with the hang over."

"I didn't drink last night."

His eyes narrow. "Didn't sleep so well though, did you?"

"Why would you say that?" I spout off through clenched teeth.

Carver just waved away my question, looking down at the blade in his lap. He ran his thumb along it's edge then hefted onto his back, jumping to his feet. "Oh," he suddenly says. "I almost forgot, we should really visit Aveline tonight, it's been a long time since we have."

I nod, exasperatedly. Yes, one more thing on my list. So many things! I still have to gain the courage to figure out about this Grey Warden and collect money for the expedition. But I know I will visit her, because it has been at least two weeks since I have.

The scenery of this mountain was quite nice. Lots of gray, the dirt was more gray then the brown it should be. I sensed a lot of the Fade though and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Just one more added thing about being magical, you have weird senses. The light green and crumbling stone structures made it seem a lot like a place people wouldn't be, so by default I was going to have to be.

We paced around a curve when my stomach jerked, telling me something, and my eyes spotted it, hissing and spitting. I cringed away from the thing, then heard Carver grunt under his breath when about five more came bustling out behind it.

"Never said anything about spiders in the job description!" Varric calls as he suddenly dives towards the overgrown, giant arachnid.

Grudgingly I pulled the staff from my back. "I didn't know," I growl back to Varric, while watching Carver dive into them full force.

They surrounded him, all pincers and dripping poison. I sent a weak wave of ice, that hardly even rattled them.

"Come on Hawke, how many have you got?" Varric calls.

Strangely talkative during battle, but infuriatingly so.

No, I was being sensitive. I got none.

I heard Carver call out, as one leaped onto his stomach and knocked him onto his back. Flash backs of old battles where the same thing had happened to others, like my tiny Leliana or physically defenseless Morrigan.

I reacted in kind, with a fireball that deteriorated the beast into nothing but a puff of ash. I dove towards Carver then, my legs feeling strange. As if they were not my own.

I grabbed onto Carvers forearm and tried to help him up. At the same time I repelled the remaining three spiders with a wall of ice. I hissed when Carver used one of his big, meaty hands to lean on my shoulder. He nearly sent me to falling, so I shoved him off and began to back away, causing a stone fist to finish off a poisonous spider.

I was nearly out, I waited for the blood to pulse more. I waited on the familiar tingling, but it didn't come back fast enough. Carver finished off one with a blade through it's belly, splattering him in blood while Varric got the last giant spider with an arrow through the heart.

Another bad thing about magic: it had no endurance.

I nearly threw my staff like a child, but drew in a deep breath tossing it on my back. While the two boys laughed a little over their victory I trudge on towards the Dalish, knowing that this was not even close to a victory.

I started to see the smoke of campfires and hanging on the ruins were cloths painted with Dalish markings. I wondered if they were close to the other clan I met. Though I sided with the werewolves and not the Dalish, I just thought they were rude. So, as I stepped towards two elves standing guard the entrance I actually started hoping they didn't know that me and cursed humans killed the remaining Fereldan elves.

"Hold shem!" called the male elf, his voice heavily accented. "You're kind is not welcome among the Dalish."

That warning, why does it seem just so vaguely familiar?

Carver looked to speak out and I raised a hand to both him and Varric.

"I was given an amulet for someone named Marethari."

"How do you know that name?" the man demanded. Before I could answer, the female at his side spoke out.

"Wait, this is the one the Keeper spoke of."

Keeper knows of me?

"A shemlen!" the male elf exclaims. "I thought they'd be an elf."

"Into the camp," the female says, stepping aside. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

I moved forward, keeping Carver and Varric close on my flanks. As we were slipping passed the male yells after us, "Cause trouble, and you will meet our blades, stranger."

As we stepped further into the camp, pointed towards a elderly elf standing before a fire, my hand instantly moved to my neck, clutching the pendant into my fingers. For the oddest reason I felt like my blood sung to it, to the blood in the vile. But I was probably imagining that.

A/N: Same old, same old. Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review. -Taryn(: