Hawke stared at the compound, ignoring the piercing stare that was levelled in her direction. The Qunari guarding the gate had not stopped watching her, but she didn't pay any attention to him. She was too busy focusing on wringing her hands in anticipation of marching in there with more bad news.
"At least the Arishok won't think that we're the incompetent ones," Varric offered in an attempt to lighten her spirits.
"It doesn't make me feel any better," Hawke admitted, pulling her hand down her face. "Every time the viscount wants me, he just gives me more bad news with the Qunari. I'm not his damned Qun-diplomat."
"They would call you Beresaad," Fenris offered, lifting his head as he entered the conversation, then dropping it again when he was met with silence.
"The viscount's diplomat," Hawke clarified with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not the Arishok's diplomat, either, but that's beside the point."
"It would be Bas-Beresaad, anyway," Fenris murmured, cracking his neck with a sigh.
"And what do they call dwarves?" Varric asked with cheeky grin on his face. "Bas-Tards?"
"That's what everyone calls dwarves," Aveline chimed in, trying to lift Hawke's mood. She squeezed her friend's shoulder, but Hawke didn't perk up too much. "Don't worry," the guard captain said in a reassuring, stern tone. "I'm already opening up investigations into my guards. If someone saw this happen and didn't report it-"
"I know, Aveline," Hawke sighed, bringing her hand up to rest on the cool, metal fingers at her shoulder. "I just wish someone else would tell the Arishok that more of his people are missing… and probably dead already."
"Well you two already have a… relationship," Varric pointed out, running his finger along Bianca's spine delicately. "Who else would you prefer to send? Daisy? His Highness the Choir Boy?"
"The pirate?" Aveline proposed with equal disdain.
"Blondie?" Varric added with a small chuckle.
"I could do it for you, Hawke," Fenris offered, glancing over at her. "I have no problem speaking with them."
"I appreciate the offer, but-"
"Hawke, you already have enough on your plate. Let me help you."
"I wouldn't want to put you in a position where you had to answer to the Arishok for me, Fenris," Hawke declined gently. "Varric is right. If anyone should be telling the Arishok anything, it should be me."
"It should be the viscount," Aveline corrected with a huff. "It astounds me how strong lineages erode into weak tyrants."
"It's the nature of power," Varric sighed. "It cannot be wielded by one person - even a great one - without it completely destroying them."
"I think that's enough philosophy," Hawke said quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She swayed forwards and onto her feet, using the momentum to carry her forwards into a march. She tried to press her concerns to the back of her mind, but they kept resurfacing with every step that led her before the Arishok.
He was practically surrounded at the time she arrived, and though the crowds parted it was clear that he was run to the point of exhaustion.
"What do you want, Hawke?" he asked with a frustrated sigh. "I have no interest in adding to my distractions."
For a moment she was flattered that she was still considered a distraction, but unfortunately it was dampened by the sharpness of his tone.
"And yet you sent a delegate to the viscount," she reminded him.
"A brief attempt to educate," he huffed in response, barely looking at her as he spoke. "If the dwarf had stolen the saar-qamek, it could have been used to show the price of greed."
Hawke was surprised that the Arishok was still fixated on that matter, but he continued speaking before she could say anything.
"But you know the outcome of that," he spat. "These fools are determined to be wrong. I won't waste the effort again."
Hawke nodded in understanding, but she soon realized that a silence had descended upon them and he was waiting to see why she was there. Varric cleared his throat loudly, and with some effort she managed to speak the words she had come to say.
"A courtesy, Arishok," she began, trying to delay the inevitable. She inhaled a deep breath, then passed it back out again over several seconds. "The delegate and his guards are missing."
She could only think back to the way things had been, and how such news had been received the last time. She had not forgotten Ketojan - the saarebas who had chosen to sacrifice himself rather than disgrace the Qun. She shifted in silence and braced herself for his response, and every second that he delayed only worsened the pit in her stomach.
"Anyone else, and those words would have been their last," Arishok exhaled in frustration. He sat for a moment, then leaned forwards to consider her carefully. "You are handling this? Not your buffoon of a viscount?"
"I am," she confirmed quickly, straightening her back sharply.
"Then I will wait," he determined, nodding slowly.
The great numbers of Qunari around him seemed to acknowledge this decision and they turned away, lowering their weapons. Hawke noted that they were glistening in the sunlight, marked with a strange metallic substance on their bodies. She had never seen it before, but she knew what kaddis looked like, and she knew what war paint was for.
"But know this," Arishok continued in a warning tone. "The provocations we have suffered has worked. If this is not resolved, I can fulfil my duty to the Qun with far less annoyance by sifting through rubble."
She had heard a similar tone in his voice before, when discussing the reason for his being stranded in Kirkwall in the first place. She didn't like the implications then, and she didn't like them now. It suggested a very exhausted, very dangerous military-minded individual, and it really troubled her that she didn't necessarily disagree with his attitude.
"As if there wasn't enough pressure," Aveline murmured dejectedly. Hawke felt the same way, but managed to refrain from saying anything. She continued to watch Arishok in the hopes that he might offer her something, but she knew as well as he did that their private time was destined to remain just that… despite the suppositions of her friends.
"Thank you, Hawke."
She wasn't expecting the words, and for a moment she thought she had imagined them, but a glance down at Varric's face suggested otherwise. He was similarly surprised, and Fenris was quick to lean over and give her a nudge.
"Don't just stand there," he urged beneath his breath.
"Panahedan, Arishok," Hawke answered, feeling the words roll off her tongue almost of their own accord. She didn't know what she was expecting from him, but the gentle dismissal of his hand was enough.
"Panahedan, Hawke," he returned, rising to his feet. Hawke lingered for a moment, but she detected the shuffling of feet at her back and reluctantly turned to follow the others. She knew she should probably be rather annoyed with the way he had treated her, but she couldn't feel her anger through the overwhelming sorrow for him. There was so much that he bore on his shoulders, and the last thing she needed to do was to pile on and make things worse for him.
It gave her a strange sense of purpose. A strength in knowing that she was helping him in what ways she could. That he trusted her, relied on her. After all, he'd even been as brazen as to leave the compound for her… and if she had her way, he would again.
"That went better than expected," Varric admitted once they were back in the street. "I was sure we were going to have some… problems."
"I have to admit, I had the same doubts," Aveline agreed.
"There's no time to delay. The Arishok is counting on us, and I for one and not going to let him down when he clearly trusts us," Hawke determined, gripping her staff tightly. "We'll find his delegate."
"I hope you're planning on finding a drink first," Varric admitted, expelling a deep breath. "I know I need one. I promised myself that since I didn't get anything in the form of liquid courage for going in there, I was going to celebrate."
"You know, you don't have to come with me everywhere I go," Hawke reminded him, heading up the steps slowly.
"And how would that look for my readers?" the dwarf asked with a sound of absolute horror. "Can you imagine? They get to the end of the chapter I title 'Bad News Bas: Disappearing Delegates, Deceit and Dirty Deeds', there's a great cliffhanger, the love story between the guard captain and her beloved is almost at its pinnacle, and they turn the page to 'I don't know what happened next, because I was drinking in the Hanged Man and I only found out a few days later'. It's not the dramatic flair I was hoping to achieve."
"The love story involving… who?" Aveline tested with a dangerous arch of her eyebrow.
"Relax, Aveline," Varric smiled sweetly. "It's a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone - living or dead - is purely coincidental."