Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
A week passed since the conversation with Mother and Hawke was happy with where things stood between the three of them. Life returned to normal in short order as messages arrived at her mansion asking for her help. One was even from the Viscount requesting her help with the Qunari again. Hawke groaned at the prospect. Those damn creatures were more trouble than they were worth. The last time she got tangled with them, she'd nearly died when the Tal-Vashoth leader ran her through with his massive sword. It was thanks to Anders that she survived.
She rubbed her eyes as she thought of the mage. He had only become more obsessive and unstable since the expedition. Every time she turned around there was another one of his manifestos shoved in a book or closet in her house. Varric mentioned seeing some in the Hanged Man even. Tensions between Hawke and Anders skyrocketed when she'd helped Sebastian solve the mystery of his family's murder and then recruited him as a companion. Whenever she took the both of them on a mission she usually went to the Hanged Man and drank herself into a stupor afterwards to drown the memory of their ceaseless bickering.
Shoving her messages to the side, wishing that if she buried the scraps of paper the actual requests would disappear, Hawke grabbed her daggers and left the estate. The sun was shining high in the sky as she made her way to Lowtown. She hadn't visited Merrill in some time and she needed to check on her naive blood mage. Varric's protection could only go so far – the Templars were becoming more powerful and the new recruits were zealots who would never dream of looking the other way for coin.
Halfway to Lowtown Hawke caught sight of the assassin tailing her. The boldness surprised her; it was barely past noon on a weekday and the markets were busy. Why would someone choose to follow her in broad daylight? Picking up her pace she kept to the main streets hoping the large amount of witnesses would continue to discourage her tail from attacking. As she entered the Lowtown market Hawke stopped at the trinket vendor to lure the assassin into a false sense of security while she inconspicuously observed him. The vendor was showing Hawke her newest wares and one of them immediately caught the rogue's attention. In the split second she dropped her guard, all hell broke loose in the market.
At least six or seven Carta members dropped from the rooftops or materialized out of the shadows. Hawke cursed as she pulled her daggers from their sheaths and back flipped over one dwarf who tried to slice the tendons in her ankles. So, it was like that, was it? As soon as her feet touched the ground, she stealthed and made her way to the archer in a corner of the market who'd already shot a few shoppers with his wide arrows. When she reached him she was horrified to see his milky white eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at the same time. Her knee-jerk reaction was to run, but the years of fighting conditioned her to respond to a threat and without a second thought she cut him down.
Twirling around she caught the blade of one of the Carta that he was intent on stabbing her with and using all her strength she pushed and sent him flying across the market. Kicking out with her opposite foot she knocked the wind out of another dwarf and took the opportunity to assassinate him. She continued to disarm, unbalance, and stab, but they kept coming! With every one she took down, two more took his place, and in the madness she'd lost track of the assassin. Warily, Hawke tried to maintain her focus and watch her own back, but she was wearing out.
As another wave flooded the market bolts rained down and she gave a relieved laugh. "Varric! Watch out for the assassin!"
"Don't worry, Hawke, we've got you covered." Merrill giggled as she electrocuted a couple dwarves who had redirected their attacks to the mage and archer on the stairs. With two others to back her up, Hawke was able to focus on taking out the insane dwarves. Leaping into the air she slammed her daggers into a team of archers that were unloading arrows in the elf's direction and flipped around an ax-wielding dwarf to backstab him while he was unbalanced.
As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Bodies of white-eyed dwarves littered the market and the cries of the injured began to fill the silence left after battle. Something still felt wrong though. Checking over the bodies she saw no sign of the assassin she caught tailing her. Senses on high alert, she tossed a glance to Varric and saw the uneasiness she felt mirrored in his golden eyes.
"The blood! We must have it! The blood of the Hawke so He can rise again!" The disembodied voice echoed throughout the market effectively silencing all noise. Daggers in hand Hawke waited with bated breath for the assassin to show himself. He was cloaked in the shadows, watching and patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Slowly and carefully, Hawke walked backwards towards the stairs, away from the shadows in an attempt to bait the assassin into revealing his position. Bianca clicked behind her with Varric's finger poised above the trigger as she made her way towards her companions. A fire bomb exploded in front of her face temporarily blinding and distracting her enough to allow the assassin to abandon the shadows and run on silent feet in her direction. Merrill tried to stone fist the mad dwarf, but he rolled out of the way, hopping up seconds later to the right of his target. Hawke was still blinking away the bright spots in her vision and could only stumble feebly as he advanced on her.
TAT! The crack of Bianca's archer's lance echoed across the stone walls of the market even after the assassin became nothing more than a smear of blood and gore across the steps. Varric hobbled down the few stairs between him and his lover. He turned her to face him with his heart lodged in his throat. "Katya, can you see anything yet? Do you feel pain anywhere?"
"No, I'm not injured, Varric. My vision is still spotty, but it's clearing up. I should be okay in a few minutes." The blond dwarf sighed in relief as he supported her by the elbow and led her up the stairs towards the Hanged Man.
"Merrill, come with us. I was on my way to see you actually. I'll buy you a drink for covering me." The elf tried to protest, but stopped when Varric promised to tell her a story. Once they were in the dimly lit pub Hawke's eyes more readily adjusted and she was able to walk up the stairs without help, but Varric glared at her when she suggested it. She stifled a giggle at her protective lover's insistence and allowed him to lead her to one of his chairs.
Norah sauntered in to take their order and before she'd even left the room some of Varric's runners crashed into his suite. He quickly spouted orders about who they should approach to conveniently help any locals and merchants forget that Daisy was casting spells and that some crazy dwarf mentioned blood and Hawke. The last thing he needed was the power hungry Templars jumping to conclusions about blood magic and his woman – or her sister who was at their mercy in the Circle.
His men dispersed to do as they were told and he fell into the chair beside Hawke. Norah brought their drinks and then made herself scarce. Hawke ran her finger through the condensation on the mug while staring at the stone table top. "I'm sorry, Varric. You're always paying to get me out of trouble. I'm going to end up turning your hair grey or draining your purse before too long and I'm not sure which one you would consider worse." She gave a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I'll still be ruggedly handsome with grey hair and no matter how much money I spend we always seem to find more to replace it." He watched her thoughtfully over the rim of his tankard. "Katya, don't worry so much. I like making sure that my friends and my family," he lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles lightly, "are safe. I'm used to taking care of an entire clan of money-grubbing dwarves that aren't fit to kiss my boots, but you and the others are worth every cent."
Merrill gave a dreamy sigh, reminding Hawke of her presence and forcing her to tear her gaze from the blond man's. Varric caught the way her eyes had widened when he said she was part of his 'family' and he wondered what it might mean, but now was not the time to pursue it.
As the rogue and the elf talked, Varric tried to work out why the Carta would have a contract out on Hawke. It was unlike them to plan an attack the way they did. It was sloppy, amateur, rushed. The only one who seemed to have any sense in how to take out a target had been the assassin. And what was wrong with their eyes? Maybe they were a new branch of Carta, but he would have heard about them, either through his contacts or his official Orzammar intel. The more he tried to make sense of the attack, the more confused he became.
He started slightly at the touch on his arm, but he relaxed when he saw that it belonged to Hawke. "Varric, you promised Merrill a story. Why don't you get started on that? I'm going to see if Isabella is at the bar real quick." Giving him a smile she stood and left as he began to tell the childlike mage a story about a sad elf who forgot how to frolic, but danced when no one was watching in his broken mansion. Hawke laughed to herself – when Fenris heard that story he was going to kill Varric.
Bypassing the bar, Hawke snuck out the door of the pub and down the stairs to the trinket vendor. The poor woman was rather frazzled after tracking down all of her wares that had been scattered during the skirmish and was in the process of closing shop early. When she caught sight of Hawke she gave her a tremulous smile.
"Mistress, I am so sorry about what happened to your wares. Allow me to cover the cost of the damage as recompense."
The vendor shook her head. "No need, my lady, your friend saw to that already." She continued to pack up as she spoke. "Is there something you needed, my lady?"
"I – yes, I hope so. I noticed a ring before the attack and I was prepared to purchase it. I was hoping you still had it."
"Can you describe it to me?"
Hawke tried to calm the thundering of her heart. "A men's signet ring, gold, dwarven origin." The merchant nodded and began to dig through her wares. She hadn't been sure when she saw it that it was his, but there had been no time to examine it thoroughly. Hawke sent a prayer to the Maker that it hadn't been lost in the melee. Finally, the woman pulled a large ring from her box of trinkets and held it out for her to see.
"Is this the ring, my lady?" Hawke took it and nearly wept in relief to see the Tethras seal. She clutched it to her chest and blinked to stem the flood of tears that threatened to overflow of their own accord.
"How much for it? I'll pay anything." The merchant was so surprised by the lady's reaction that she didn't know what to say.
"I – uh, nothing, my lady. You saved our lives today and as I said before your friend already paid for any damages. It's my gift to you. Good day, my lady." She gave a small curtsy as she took her box and headed for home. Hawke watched her go in awe and let the tears slip through her lashes as she felt the reassuring weight in her hand which proved this wasn't a dream.
Drying her eyes she ran up the stairs to the pub and directly to Corff at the bar. With a large smile she requested a bottle of Nevarran Red be delivered to Varric's suite and paid the eight sovereigns instead of putting it on his tab. The astounded bartender watched her sashay up the stairs and asked himself again how the damn dwarf managed to catch such an incredible woman. Hawke entered just as Varric was wrapping up the story. "Even though the elf couldn't remember anything about his life before captivity and even though he loved a woman he knew he could never have, he felt alive when he danced through the empty halls of his house. Part of him never forgot how to frolic and that was the part that taught him to dance."
Merrill wiped away her tears and smiled sweetly at the storyteller. "Thank you, Varric. I promise I won't tell Fenris, but it was a lovely story." She glanced up. "Oh, hello again, Hawke. I should be going home before it gets dark." She hugged them and sniffled her way out the door. Hawke saw the man at the front of the pub follow her out at Varric's nod and she shook her head.
"You do realize that Fenris will hear about your little story and attempt to rip your heart out, right?" Hawke smirked down at him.
Varric waved a hand airily. "Meh, every story has its critics. So, where did you really disappear to, Katya? I know Rivani is out, probably hat shopping." Norah walked in and bustled about the table, clearing away their mugs of ale to make room for the Red and wine glasses she carried. Once the waitress was gone Hawke turned to Varric who was seated at the head of the table, hands steepled thoughtfully, giving her an appraising stare. Flicking his whiskey eyes to the wine quickly, he asked, "Is there a special occasion I'm forgetting about? Normally, I'm very good about remembering dates."
"Not unless you want to immortalize the day you saved my life, but there are already too many of those to keep track of." They shared a warm smile. Hawke removed her dagger sheaths and gauntlets to keep her hands busy as she calmed herself. She could feel Varric's eyes on her as she laid the items on a table near the door.
"I have something for you, Varric." When her fingers slid into her pocket and encompassed the weighty ring, Hawke could not hold back the small smile, and with a flick of her wrist she tossed it to the man. His rogue reflexes caught it easily and he sucked in a breath to see the gold band in his palm.
"My father's signet ring…Bartrand pawned it off to pay for the expedition. I can't believe you found it!" Hawke slid into a chair beside him with an easy grace for someone so tall.
"I know that even if you don't admit it that it holds meaning to you. I was your father's and it's been with your family for generations. It belongs to you now, Varric, as Head of Clan Tethras."
His throat began to close at her words. It was true that he didn't like being Head of the family and dealing with all the bureaucracy, but holding his father's ring filled him with pride. This touched him deeply and he wasn't even able to articulate why it pleased him as much as it did. "Thank you, Katya, I-I, just thank you."
Hawke smiled when he removed his gauntlets and slid it on the ring finger of his right hand. His head snapped up at the sound of the cork leaving the bottle and he watched as she poured them each a small glass. Nevarran Red packed a punch so it was wise to drink leisurely. He took the glass she passed him with a smoldering gaze and her heart skipped a few beats. Hawke lowered her eyes and flushed a pretty pink under his intense stare as she sipped her wine. Varric hid his grin behind his glass.
Lacing her fingers with his, they sat in companionable silence, tossing heated glances at one another as the heady drink coursed through their bodies. Varric reached for the bottle to top of their glasses when the door to his suite slammed open to reveal one of his runners, bent over and panting from exertion. "Serah…attack in…Circle on Lady…Bethany…Carta." The man sank with a wheeze to the floor.
The rogues jumped to their feet and grabbed their gear, completely uncaring as the wine tipped and began to splash in crimson waves onto the floor, glistening like blood in the firelight.