Castillon stood silent, hands clasped behind his straight back and gazed out at the impressive view afforded by his personal office at his estate. Friends and enemies alike thought him insane for putting it in one of the two towers, the only entrance being up more than a few flights of stairs inside the house and then several stories of stairs that swirled around the inside of the tower until you reached the offices of his secretary on the floor beneath this. Another set of stairs then brought you into his sanctum. They didn't understand that the inspiring views in all directions afforded by the windows as well as the walkway that encircled the top of the tower were worth the extra effort as far as he was concerned. There was almost not a corner of Antiva City that this panorama didn't cover.
Today he stood watching the port some miles distant. Today three things were drawing his attention there. Two were lying on his mostly organized desk and to most the two things would seem inconsequential and unrelated. One was a quick missive sent by one of his agents at the docks, swearing by his sainted mother that the Bane was at dock under another name, the other being a request for an audience by the 'Kirkwall Viscountess.' The third was the man standing behind him, back just as straight as his own. The years at sea had been kind to him even if his duties had become harsher than he had known while in Castillon's own employ.
"All I want is your assurance that you have nothing in mind to harm her that is all. The rest I will let you decide on your own."
"Klaton," Castillon sighed, shaking his head sadly. Would this man never understand? "I have no intention of doing anything to cause harm to your Isabella. I have a certain respect for a woman that can command, and I certainly have respect for one that can outwit me. I know she fears me but it is unfounded." Turning he regarded Klaton a moment before walking to his desk and sitting, hands steepled. "Tell me brother; have the years in her employ been worth thumbing your nose at me?"
"Half brother if it's all the same," Klaton replied stiffly. "I am sure your mother would roll over in her grave to think she might have to recognize your father's bastard."
"True." Castillon had to give that point to his… half brother. "But you have not answered my question."
"Isabella's employ is… challenging," Klaton admitted lightly. "But answering to no one has its own rewards."
"That," Castillon regarded the younger man thoughtfully, "It does."
"Look," Klaton finally sighed, "I do not want to downplay your part in my life. Or Father's either. But what you were offering wasn't for me." Pausing to wave a hand to indicate the richly appointed office, he continued, "I was not made for this. And I was not made to command. I am happiest where I am, doing what I am doing. I am not ungrateful that you got me out of Orlais and gave me a place of some merit, but once Father died…. Antiva…."
Castillon nodded, understanding completely.
"Isabella doesn't know. I thought it better not to mention that because in the beginning it might have got me keelhauled. Not entirely sure it wouldn't now." Klaton paused when Castillon chuckled, sitting back in his chair to eye him sharply. "I would prefer to keep that status quo if it is all the same to you."
"Secrets," Castillon tsked, amused. "Well I can certainly see where it might be… uncomfortable for the two of you, this knowledge."
"She wishes that I accompany Hawke…."
"And they are close, yes I know." He chuckled at the look Klaton shot him. "Oh nothing nefarious I assure you. When I met this Hawke she was still simply the Champion of Kirkwall but I was unaware of that fact. It was a… tumultuous time in the city-state, which was precisely why I was there. When I agreed to turn over the Bane to Isabella and leave her in peace I had no idea that both the city's Champion as well as her Guard Captain were standing right there and that the business dealings I was endeavoring to protect were already compromised. After that I made it my business to pay attention to who was who in Kirkwall. I know this Hawke's story and also know that she has not been seen in Kirkwall for a decade or better even if she does still carry the title."
"She's been in Seheron."
"Seheron," Castillon's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"She can better explain her reasons for wanting to meet with you than I can. You have only to invite her."
Castillon regarded his half brother thoughtfully before standing and returning to gaze out at the docks.
"Perhaps this is worth my consideration after all. I wasn't sure but Isabella working up the nerve to show her face in Antiva City and now," he paused to look over his shoulder at Klaton, "You. I am intrigued."
Klaton nodded, knowing that this was as close as he was going to get to a dismissal because this man was now lost in thought. Turning he retreated down the many stairs, leaving Castillon to his musing.
Klaton might have been surprised had he been able to read his half brother's thoughts. They involved days spent in one of the exclusive and expensive brothels of the city as a child, brought there by his beloved father to visit with his mistress. He paid a small ransom to keep her ensconced in this house in her own apartments but then money had been nothing to this son of Antiva City. Castillon had loved this woman and her kindness and grace, never once treating him harshly simply because he was not hers. When she had given birth to Klaton, she had never treated either boy better. And in her company Castillon had felt the affection that he never once felt from his own mother, a stiff, shrill and judgmental woman who could never be pleased.
When his mother had discovered the affair she took it as an affront to her status in the city, and humiliated beyond description she had used her own families influence to have Klaton and his mother banished from Antiva. Heartbroken, Klaton's mother had returned to her native Orlais with her son and it was not until after Castillon's own mother's death that his father had sent his son to find her. Klaton's mother had died many years before but Castillon had managed to track down the half brother that he remembered fondly working as a deck hand on a merchant's ship. By this time he was a young man and his wealthy half brother's promises of adventure had tweaked his adolescent sense of himself and he had given no thought to returning to Antiva with him. He had nothing in Orlais to hold him.
'But something holds you now, doesn't it?' Castillon chuckled lightly before returning to his desk, pulling out a parchment and a quill.
Hawke eyed the overdressed man standing on the deck next to the slip. The ornate metal pin affixed to his doublet was blazoned with heraldry that she recognized as belonging to Castillon. When she had presented herself to him as the Viscountess he had eyed her dubiously but had turned over the folded parchment in his possession with a cordial inclination of his head and waited patiently for her to read it. Sighing Hawke eyed the man unhappily but knowing it would do no good to kill the messenger simply because she was unhappy with the message, she nodded and calling on all the training her mother had ever instilled in her, she graciously accepted the invitation. Happy, the man turned smartly and retreated from the ship with more dignity than Hawke would have had had she been dressed like that.
"Well?"
Hawke looked down at Varric a moment before handing him the parchment.
"I was pleased to learn of your arrival in our fair city and it would be my extreme pleasure to invite you to a small dinner party I am hosting ," Varric shot a look up at Hawke from under his lashes, already seeing where this was going. "It will be held at my estate, ten days hence. If you see fit to graciously accept, I will send a carriage. Please do bring our mutual friend…" Varric paused to digest what he was seeing a moment before smiling broadly, "Our mutual friend, the ever lovely Isabella along. We have much to catch up on!" Letting his arm drop without finishing he looked up at the poop deck where Isabella and Klaton both stood watching before stating mildly, "I never said anything about her. You do realize this means we will have to 'dress,' right? And how to you intend to convince Isabella?"
"Yes," Hawke fired shortly, "I do understand that it means we will have to dress. And I have no idea."
Varric snorted in an attempt to cover over an amused chuckle, but it did nothing to disguise the twinkle in his eye. When Hawke shot him a sour look, he turned on his heal and walked the other way before she got ideas about using one of those daggers on him.
Hawke stared at herself in the mirror that Isabella had hidden away in her cabin. Behind her a very self-satisfied dressmaker clucked and tried to not look pompous at the accomplishments she and her assistants had managed to make over the ten days given them. Taking dresses that were already completed and almost working around the clock they had managed to even create something suitable for the tall Maraas. The Kossith woman had in the beginning literally scared the women but a few days of Maraas's quiet grace had won them over and they took to the challenge of creating something suitably exotic for her. The real challenge had been the pirate woman, who it would seem had never been fitted for anything of substance and who obviously resented the entire idea.
Hawke was still unsure by what methods Varric had convinced Isabella that she needed to accompany them on this outing and wasn't entirely sure she really wanted to know because Isabella was at best sullen about the whole process. She looked at the dresses that the seamstresses had brought with them the first visit to test out with a jaundiced eye, refusing to even try most of them until finally one had caught her eye.
Hawke, who had grown up a tomboy, had even as Viscount deferred these decisions to others so she had allowed the dressmaker to choose whatever she felt was appropriate for the occasion and what she had chosen was a red Orlesian silk dress made in an Antivan style. The bodice was contoured to her with a simple trim of flowers made of golden thread, showing just enough of her tanned cleavage to make Hawke uncomfortable but that the seamstress insisted was becoming. The arms were formfitting with several trimmed slits that allowed sly glances at her tanned arms. Across her slim hips the silk was draped, hanging in graceful, petite folds that alternated between two subtle hues of red, one shiny and the other duller and on anyone else would have added unnecessary bulk. On Hawke's slim form it just enhanced the hourglass form that the dress was striving to show off. The skirt flowed away from her hips to the floor in supple folds, the same simple trim following them at the hem. Even Hawke's jaundiced view of dresses was impressed with the overall effect.
"Oh Hawke," Maraas had gaped, "That is so lovely! The color…"
"The color of fresh blood," Isabella remarked with forced casualness, completely ignoring the insulted noises the dressmaker made at the description, "Suits you."
"Well," Hawke turned to regard the dress that Isabella wore thoughtfully. "I must say blue suits you as well. But did you have to insist on that neckline?"
Smirking Isabella posed with her mostly exposed bosom thrust out.
"If you have to be trussed up like a turkey going to the spit?" she argued, "You go showing off your best assets."
Maraas regarded the privateer a moment, unsure if she was serious or not. Isabella had many assets and the two on her chest were just one. That she insisted on pushing her sexuality in the faces of everyone around her just confused the Kossith woman but she did have to admit that it did seem to get results and that royal blue formfitting dress would do as much of the work as Isabella's own sensuous demeanor. Looking down at her own gown, a simple draping affair of black and gold that left her back bare and that the dressmaker insisted showed both her tall slim figure and her bronzed skin to advantage she wondered why it was these people insisted their woman had to be shown off like some prize.
"Now," the short wrinkled dressmaker announced as she pointed to several chairs, "For the hair."
Hawke sighed and did as she was told, unsure what anyone would be able to do with hair grown long and shaggy over their journey.
The hours were almost made worth it when the women exited the captain's quarters. The men all stood on the deck in the slowly dimming daylight and the only one that managed to not look stone-struck was Hassrath and even he stared at Maraas thoughtfully. Varric, dressed in the best dwarven finery he could find in Antiva City just blinked at Hawke several times and whistled. Klaton, dressed in a simple but richly appointed black doublet and leather breaches with an ornately hilted sword at his hip made no comment but was given away by the surprised inspection of his captain and her friends. Fenris, who had been standing to the side of the door, leaned against the wall simply stood straight as Hawke walked past him without seeing him, letting his eyes follow the line of her back before she turned and he got the full effect. Suddenly finding himself fighting a desire to forego this party and take her straight to their cabin, he stepped forward to lightly run his thumb along the line of her jaw and Hawke, seeing how his eyes had darkened perceptively silently decided that maybe, just maybe she didn't feel quite so naked without her weapons now. That look told her she not only had all of his at her disposal this man would at this moment do anything she asked of him.
Both Fenris and Hassrath had forgone the idea of dressing, instead the elf had on his imposing black armor and Hassrath, after some convincing had donned a simple black leather vest over black leather breaches. Around his neck a gold torc glittered in the waning light. Both men wore their weapons prominently across their backs, both having decided independently that their roles this night would be that of bodyguard, standing watch over their own respective women.
While waiting for the carriage to arrive Klaton disappeared, returning after some minutes carrying a carved wooden box. Opening it he held it out and Isabella's eyebrows rose when she saw that it was filled with jewelry, some she recognized as booty from the Tevinter ships they had raided in the past. These pieces must have ended up in his cut and for some reason he hadn't sold them. Looking at him inquisitively she began pushing things around. Fenris, looking over her shoulder curiously suddenly reached out and plucked one piece out of the box. Looking at the simple polished jet orchid set in gold and hanging from a delicate gold chain, he turned to where Hawke stood talking with Varric. Slipping up behind her he had it around her throat before she had a chance to protest and while she stood looking down at where it lay just above the valley created by her cleavage he laid his hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear, "It would please me if you wore it."
Hawke looked from the charm over her shoulder at him and recognized her own words returned to her. Nodding almost imperceptively she leaned back against him and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Looking at her smile Fenris knew that no matter what it took, Klaton was not getting this particular piece back. He still wore her wolf charm, considered it as much a part of his armor as he did his gauntlets and even now it was nestled beneath his jerkin.
When the watch called that a carriage approached, Hawke sighed. Fun time was over, time to put Hawke in a box and lock her away. Now she needed to wear a hat she hadn't donned in a decade, that of Viscount…. Pausing to look down at herself a moment she amended that to Viscountess of Kirkwall. Following behind the others as they made their way down the slip, Fenris couldn't help but see the sad look that had washed across Hawke's face for just the briefest second before she schooled her features into something hard and haughty, something that gave away nothing. Once everyone was safely inside the carriage, Fenris and Hassrath both stood on the runners on either side holding to two ornate brass handles put there so that guards could ride ready for any trouble. Nodding sharply to the driver, with a flick of the reigns the carriage was off.
Maraas sat holding back the curtain that was meant to keep the occupants of the carriage concealed, opening staring as the nature of the streets changed from that of seediness and poverty to that of unashamed wealth and grandeur. High walls decorated by pilasters and topped with wrought iron spikes were broken by wide wrought iron gates, giving brief glimpses of paved courtyards, often with small fountains or trees in their center. The houses were often mammoth, housing generations of particular families in their own comfortable apartments and their facades were consistently elaborate with fluted columns, decorative lintels and expensive glass windows of all shapes and sizes. Many were stuccoed ornately with designs and many colors. All were impressive and the Kossith woman so used to utilitarian designs was left gaping and wondering where to look next.
When the carriage finally turned past a gate, through a high, thick granite wall and into an enormous paved courtyard with graceful and well tended flowering bushes lining its interior and an abstract fountain made of various shapes in its center, even Isabella had to gape at the sheer size. The house itself was four stories high with additional wings to be seen past the courtyard and with windows lining each floor, the bottom two lit brightly. The door itself was almost big enough for the carriage to drive through and was guarded on either side by fluted columns that raised two stores to be capped by an ornately carved lintel that itself had a statue of Castillon's family heraldry atop it. Unlike some of its neighbors this house proudly showed off the locally quarried light grey granite it was made of, trimmed around the windows and at intervals along its façade with black marble. Torches lined the front of the house as well as the courtyard and as servants smartly dressed in the grey and black colors of Castillon's heraldry stepped forward to open the carriage and assist the occupants out, both Fenris and Hassrath stepped down, keeping careful eye on everything. When two more servants, these dressed in black pulled the enormous doors open to reveal a brightly lit and large foyer a man stepped forward until he was framed in the doorway and the opulence that the simple exterior of his house hid.
Castillon stood, hands clasped behind his back silently observing his guests in turn, nothing particular showing on his face. He didn't seem overly surprised at the unusual make up of the entourage accompanying her. As he paused a bit longer to take in Fenris and Hassrath, Hawke looked him over. He hadn't changed all that much since she'd last seen him in Kirkwall. Some grey peppered his sideburns and the inevitable lines that came from spending hours outdoors in the sun weathered his face but on him it gave a charm. He wore a simple doublet of black with grey trim over black breaches with shiny black riding boots. A little shock of white showed at his throat where a frilled shirt collar peeked out from under the doublet. Finally he stepped forward, making for Hawke first since she was royalty and the reason they were all there. Stopping in front of her he bowed and taking her hand lightly grazed his lips across the knuckles before straightening and smiling.
"Welcome to my home Marian Hawke, Viscountess of Kirkwall." Making a point to look her up and down, he remarked lightly, "May I say that you look most enchanting."
"You may," Hawke returned lightly, inclining her head slightly in acceptance of the compliment.
"But you must introduce me to your friends," he murmured smoothly.
Hawke turned to Maraas, who was still trying to take it all in. When Castillon repeated his bow, also kissing her hand, she blinked at him unsure what to say. Castillon graciously smoothed over the awkward moment by winking and smiling. Next she introduced Varric, who bowed in response to Castillon but made no comment when the older man simply cocked an eyebrow at him. Isabella, who had been more or less hiding behind Klaton stepped boldly forward and dimpling her cheeks at the object of her fear, held her hand out to him.
"Ah Isabella," Castillon smiled brightly at her as he took his time kissing her hand. "It has been far too long. And Klaton as well, what a surprise! Word of your exploits in the Ventosus Straits has even reached as far as Antiva. Plenty of Raiders are wondering why you refuse to align with them. Of course they wouldn't do anything about it when you so regularly bring in such fine Tevinter goods."
"Well," Isabella reached out to toy with the white collar as she looked up at him through her lashes, "It's always a pleasure to show Tevinters to be fools who should stay off the sea."
Castillon chuckled and catching Isabella's hand, again kissed it before turning his attention back to Hawke.
"Please, introduce me to these two," he held a hand out to where Fenris and Hassrath stood, cocking an eyebrow at Hawke, "I am assuming bodyguards? I assure you that you have nothing to fear in my house m'lady."
"They are as much companions as they are guards," Hawke assured him, laying a hand lightly on his arm. "The big one is Hassrath and he is with Maraas. Fenris," she looked at him a moment, trying to decide how to introduce him and finally settled on the truth considering the mores here in Antiva. "Fenris is my personal companion."
This made Castillon look at the elf a little harder, wondering. The armor smacked of Tevinter and the unusual tattoos… 'Where did this man come from and how,' he wondered to himself, 'Has he ended up bedding even an estranged ruler?' Inclining his head to Fenris politely, he turned his attention back to Hawke. Apparently this Viscountess had… exotic tastes. Fenris gritted his teeth and kept a stoic expression at the other man's close inspection. This man wielded enough power to get away with not even trying to keep his thoughts hidden. Behind it though, he wondered at Hawke's introduction of him.
"Let us retire inside," he announced with an air of authority as he held his arm out for his guests to precede him. "I have invited several people and they are all excited to meet you."
The foyer immediately captured Maraas with its decorative marble floors and painted plaster walls. Niches ran along its length, each with a statue standing on a fluted pedestal. Castillon, seeing her innocent interest paused to explain that some were of some of his ancestors, each successful merchants in Antiva and some were just works that he rather liked and had decided to add to the collection started generations before. There were, he explained, similar statues in all the public rooms of the mansion and the collection had such reputation that he was often petitioned by various scholars to allow them to come study them. Maraas nodded thoughtfully as he spoke, running a finger down the muzzle of a very well reproduced tiger as she did. She recognized Qunari work in it and looked at Castillon thoughtfully.
Fenris, following at the rear with Hassrath, had quickly looked the room over as they had entered, noting the servants and their locations and deciding that he would never understand the desire to collect things, things that held you where you were simply because of their sheer volume. Glancing at Hassrath sideways he saw that the Qunari in him was not quite dead yet and that the display that this mansion provided tweaked at his sense of social justice when his features settled into a disapproving scowl.
About halfway down the foyer there were two doors on either side, one firmly closed and the other Castillon pushed open to reveal a large sitting room. The white walls were painted with scenes of rolling farmland and forested lakes. Tucked among these were bookcases with obviously expensive and in some cases obviously old volumes along with more statuary, these mostly bronze and porcelain. Windows lined one wall to show off a garden and a large door was thrown open to give access to a small paved veranda over looking it. Couches and chairs were arranged about the room in groupings and several ornate gaming tables were in evidence. The first thing Fenris noted though, were the two men and one woman already in attendance.
One sat indolently with a crystal glass in one hand and legs stretched out with his ankles crossed. He was older, his dark and long braided hair liberally salted with grey but his elven face was accepting the years gracefully with few deep wrinkles. The wide almond shaped eyes shared by all elves were a curiously dark, almost black color and they took in the new arrivals with a fast sharpness that belied the casual physical lethargy. His dress was simple – a burgundy shirt Fenris knew to be favored by archers because the sleeves were more fitted at the wrists that he had not bothered to lace and black breaches. That this man was not 'simple' was evident though in the easy air of command he had about him, much the same as Castillon's own.
Next to him, sitting in high-backed chair was a woman dressed in a gown of the same burgundy, trimmed liberally with black. Her gold hair was twisted and piled on her head, black feathers and black wooden ornaments holding the bun in place. She paused in what she was saying as the new arrivals entered and, taking them in at a glance, she finished before standing and approaching.
The third stood beyond them, leaned against the frame of the open doors. This one didn't bother trying to hide what he was; he stood in black leather armor with two fighting daggers strapped to his back and a short sword to his hip. He didn't make an effort to straighten upon their arrival, but his every move spoke of attention to detail and Fenris knew that Castillon's guests were not just Antivan aristocracy.
"Ah," the woman enthused lightly, "They have arrived! You must introduce me Castillon; I have so few chances to meet foreign royalty except at the point of my weapons."
Castillon chuckled as he held out his arm for her to wrap hers around before turning to Hawke.
"May I introduce the ever lovely Masina," he paused to affectionately pat the woman's hand. "She is… how did you put it? My personal companion? And," he looked at Fenris levelly before continuing. "She is an Antivan Crow."
Fenris cocked an eyebrow at the merchant, trying to decide how to take this announcement before replying in an equally level tone, "As are they all."
"Ah, this Viscountess does not disappoint," the man sat forward, laughing lightly as he stood. "She has chosen her bodyguard wisely. But you must explain how you ended up with the prized slave of a dead Tevinter Senator to me."
Hawke, who had wisely kept her council through this, could see that Castillon was about to say something when Masina decided to step in. Taking Hawke's hand she pulled her with her to where the elf stood, scolding him gently as she did.
"There will be time for tales later so have patience. First may I introduce my superior, Master Fantin," the elf inclined his head politely, his attention still half on the white-haired shadow that had followed behind her. Pausing to let the blonde man behind them straighten and approach, she pointed to him. "That is my brother Vicenzo." Glancing over Hawke's shoulder she met Fenris's eye boldly. "He is also an Assassin of the Crows, but you knew that didn't you?" Returning her attention to the two men before her, she politely announced, "This is our guest, Marian Hawke, Viscountess of Kirkwall."
"I am," Hawke, after quietly watching the interplay between these people and Fenris decided on a direct approach with them. They weren't made of the same stuff as most nobles, born and raised to the role, "A great many things, only one of which is Viscount. Please do not feel you must stand on ceremony simply because of the title."
"Oh I like her already," Fantin chuckled before taking a slow drink from the glass he still held. "Marian, that's an Orlesian name. That Kirkwall still regards Orlais in any fashion after throwing off their rule amazes me."
"Why?" Hawke countered, a little disconcerted that this man seemed to know her history so well. "The Orlesians liberated the city from the Qunari and the reasons for 'throwing off' Orlesian rule had more to do with a general desire to captain our own destiny than for any poor rulership on the part of Orlais. No any animosity for Orlais I have comes from their continued desire to retake my homeland Ferelden and King Alistair can count on any support that Kirkwall can give should they try it."
"Yes," Fantin regarded Hawke a moment, taking in the quiet fervency of her words before sitting again. "I do think I like you."
Inclining her head politely, Hawke sat next to him on the couch, looking at Castillon as she did.
"Well," she sighed. "Can we get down to the business I wished to discuss with you or do we have to stand on more ceremony?"
Fantin almost choked on his drink, trying hard not to laugh aloud and only partially succeeding. Castillon, far from offended by her direct manner, threw back his head and laughed outright.
"I am beginning to think I like you as well Marian Hawke, even if you have cost me no small amount of sovereign and effort in the past. Yes, if it is your desire to 'get to business,' then let us do so." Pausing to look at his other guests, he remarked, "I hope you do not mind that we discuss this business before an audience. I suspect that it has to do with things that would also interest Master Fantin and I rarely keep things from Masina."
Hawke simply looked at him as though she would not have been surprised if Castillon had asked the Antivan Queen to the party and again amused Castillon sat across from her, Masina next to him. Maraas sat in a chair to Hawke's side and like Fenris, Hassrath took position behind her, circumspectly watching the blonde Crow who, after his introduction had returned to the door where he could listen while he carefully watched the darkness outside. Isabella considered sitting but decided she had far too much pent up nervous energy and instead slipped past Vicenzo to stand on the porch, wishing she was anywhere but here. Klaton, after a brief moment followed her unsurprised to see her pacing along the rail. Rather than disturb her, he decided to stand across the wide doorway from Vicenzo.
"She is… uneasy is she not?" Vicenzo remarked lightly.
"She has a less than pleasant history with Castillon."
"This," Vicenzo replied, "I know. She does not remember me but I was there, sent as an apprentice by Master Fantin to see what Castillon intended to do about this upstart female captain he had employed. Master Fantin had already paid him for the right to chose among the children on the ship and was keen to see her punished. That she managed to succeed in stealing the book and then continue on to create such a sensation in Kirkwall and survive still amuses him."
Klaton looked Vicenzo over again but was unsurprised that Isabella didn't remember him. It had been a long time ago and Crows were taught to be good with disguise. It was one of the reasons that they not only made good assassins, they also made good spies. There was little of note in Thedas that the Crows did not know about. That Isabella's creative punishment had been Fantin's idea did surprise him because although Crows were well known for subtlety it was usually not so… insidiously thought out in advance.
"Hey," Varric, who had silently approached suddenly chimed in, "I know you. You are that overdressed messenger that brought the invitation."
Vicenzo looked at the dwarf a moment, eyes hooded before nodding once. Varric chuckled and looked up at Klaton.
"We are definitely swimming with the sharks now."
Klaton sighed and crossing his arms looked back out at Isabella, who was now standing with her back to them, staring at the dark. 'You have no idea little man,' he thought wryly and would have been surprised had he known that Vicenzo's thoughts mirrored his own.
As the carriage pulled away Fenris could feel this Master Fantin's gaze on him as it had been over and over throughout the night. The elf's attention was irritating enough, that he somehow seemed to know something of his story just rubbed Fenris wrong. The subject had not come up again as the evening had progressed, far more important things were on the table for the man to consider. As much as Fantin seemed curious about him, he was curious to know precisely why.
When his guests disappeared through the gates, Castillon turned a look on his friend. Fantin shrugged and turned, knowing exactly what Castillon was thinking.
"I am sorry I didn't explain the elf to you," he sighed. "I was unsure that he was the right one."
"He has lyrium tattooed into his skin Fantin," Castillon chuckled. "How more distinct could he be? My people told me of him but I had no idea his origins were Tevinter, much less the property of a Senator."
"My contacts," Fantin smiled ironically, "Are more far reaching than your own Castillon, you know this." Pausing before the door of the sitting room, Fantin waved a hand dismissively. "And he is unimportant really, just something I would better understand is all. The rest of what she tells us…."
"I know," Castillon sighed. "It begins to make sense now, this oddness we have seen in Minrathous."
"Indeed it does." Fantin pursed his lips thoughtfully before continuing into the room, "Indeed, it does."
Maraas excused herself immediately upon their arrival back at the ship, claiming fatigue and retiring with Hassrath in tow to their room. Isabella, still too wound up suggested a game of Wicked Grace. Varric immediately accepted along with Klaton. Hawke herself begged off, too physically tired to sit still she knew and too distracted by her own thoughts to be much of a challenge anyway. Instead she wandered along the rail, looking out at the city swathed in darkness and light, stars watching over the things happening in dark corners and lit streets everywhere. Much as she hated sailing, hating the emptiness as much as the sickness, she wished they were at sea. At least there smells didn't assail your every breath, and there was a comfort in the sound of the wind and the waves. Here there was a constant background hum from the never ending work of loading and unloading ships. Finally settling, she leaned her elbows to the rail, looking out away from the city to the harbor where lights dotted the calm waters, each a ship waiting a turn at the docks.
Fenris watched, having silently followed behind her. Something inside him was having trouble understanding that his guard could now be safely lowered or at least as lowered as it ever truly was and he knew that the reason was his own conditioning and hers. He had just spent hours watching as she… changed. She was not the same Hawke for all her normal directness that he had grown accustomed to. She had drawn an air of authority to herself to match that of either Castillon or Fantin and she had worn it comfortably. This was the woman who had stood boldly before him that night in Tevinter, ordering him down when Danarius lay dead at her feet and who had pushed him to follow her through the streets of Minrathous in escape. He was not at all sure what to make of it, or this rarely seen side to her tonight but he knew that it brought out the training instilled painfully into him. That these habits could be so easily brought out of the dark made him… apprehensive. Finally after watching her for some time, seeing that she had become lost inside her own thoughts and as much to reassure himself as anything, he stepped up behind her.
Hawke knew he was there even if his approach had been silent. The gentle smell of the oil he used on his armor wafted past her on the breeze and sighing she realized he had been there all along. So very many things were banging around in her mind and she realized she didn't want to discuss any of them, she just wanted them to be silent, to leave her in peace for once. When his hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders, just where when he spread his fingers they climbed her neck to her jaw before returning, she allowed herself to relax into his gentle touch. Feeling the tension along her shoulders subside though not completely, he studied the line of her neck revealed by the fancy Orlesian braids that had been used to capture and contain her hair, coming together at the nape of her neck and then combined to one. Deciding suddenly that, as becoming as the wisps of hair left free to frame her face were, he much preferred her hair flowing and he pulled out the ribbon to begin gently pulling it from confinement. With everything else going on Hawke had not noticed how much the tight braids had added to her general tension and as they slowly came loose she sighed, content to allow him to use his fingers to comb out the last of them. As he did he leaned forward so that he could bury his nose in a handful, breathing in a smell that was undeniably her and that brought back memories of her in Seheron.
Of her sometimes sitting close as she read to him, her finger following the words as she read them for him.
Of her just reaching out for no reason just to touch him, something at first he had found disconcerting but as time went on he'd come to not only to accept as her way but that he now missed as she spent so much time wrapped in thought.
Of her, stretched beneath him relaxed and accepting of him as he lay sated, not quite ready to leave her even for the tender embraces that inevitably followed as they curled to one another to sleep. Or of the nights when none of that happened and they just lay together, one understanding that the other didn't need that and instead yearned to just be held.
As he allowed her hair to flow between his fingers Fenris realized something, something significant and that rocked him to the very core. He had once asked her what he was to her in a moment of anger brought on by his own weakness but had soon realized that wasn't the question that mattered. What he meant to her was less important than what she meant to him and in this moment of gentle sensuality he realized that she had come to mean… everything. This woman had somehow managed to become the center of his soul and it had been so natural, so unassuming that he had never even realized that it was happening. Sighing, recognizing somewhere that this defeat sweet though it was, would probably be his undoing one day he reached around her and pulled her back against him.
They stood there like that for a long time; each lost in their own thoughts but connected to each other in a simple but important way that for differing reasons had long been denied them both – touch.
