Chapter 28
When I woke up this morning, I felt absolutely pathetic.
Disgusted.
Horrified.
How could I break down like that? How could I absolutely break down and cry like that over a man?
I've never been so disappointed with myself in my life.
I'm truly pathetic.
So, I'm going to make this vow right now. I'm going to make this vow and everyone reading this will be my witness.
I am never, ever going to cry over a man who I am (or was) romantically linked to ever again. I don't fucking care what happens, but I will not allow myself to cave in and cry like a pathetic little weakling. I won't feel pain, emptiness, sadness or longing because I am better than that. I am way, way above that. All women are. And men too. No one should ever feel like they need someone else in order to live and be happy. We are each our own person and we don't need anyone to complete us and make us feel whole.
Always remember that.
Okay, the deep, philosophical part is over now.
I just came back from a long, tiring and very de-stressing workout at the gym. I must've really de-stressed, because at some point during my workout, I decided to treat Anders, Isabela, Varric and Merrill to dinner and a movie; a nice buddies' night out sans romance or anything even remotely connected to it.
So, that's what I'm doing right now; I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, still in my bathrobe, my damp hair plastered on my forehead as I quickly send a mass text message to the four of them.
Hey guys! Anyone up for a movie and dinner tonight at 7-ish? My treat ;)
Anders is the first to respond:
Hey! Sure, that sounds great! What movie did you have in mind?
Hmmm… Good question.
I quickly go to the local cinema's website and look at the listings.
Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. How does that sound? It starts at 7:10, so we can have dinner after the movie.
I dry my hair with a towel as I wait for a response.
Anders: I love SH! Can't wait! See you soon!
The sheer enthusiasm of his reply makes my mind immediately jump to Alistair.
Should I invite him too?
Does he even want to see my face after what happened with Fenris last time?
But that was Fenris' fault, not mine! Why should I have to lose a very dear friend and suffer the consequences because of someone else's foolish actions?
I'm inviting him.
Yeah. I am.
Should I call him or text him?
Hmmm… I should probably call… I haven't spoken to him in a while and…
Yeah…. I should call.
As I go through my contacts' list and call his number, my heart is beating fast. I try to swallow, but my throat's too dry.
"Hello?"
"Uhh, hey, Alistair, it's Marian." I say this way too quickly.
"Yeah! I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw your name on my caller id!" he exclaims.
I laugh nervously and twirl my phone's battery charger around my index finger.
"It's been a while," I say shakily, "I thought I'd call and see how you're doing. We didn't exactly end off on a positive note the last time we spoke."
"Uhh... yeah… we didn't," he replies awkwardly.
Awk-ward.
"So! How've you been?" I ask.
"Good. Great, actually! You?"
"Great!" I exclaim a bit too enthusiastically. It's what I do when I lie, you see; my voice gets all high and pitchy and excited. It's embarrassing, really.
"That's good," he says softly.
The dreaded awkward pause ensues.
Come on, Hawke.
Ask him.
"Umm…"
Come on. You can do it.
"Err…"
MOUTH! Why do you refuse to cooperate with BRAIN?
SAY IT OR ELSE!
"Are you free tonight? A group of friends and I are going out for dinner and a movie, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along." I say this so rapidly, I could barely understand myself.
"Sure! I'd love to!"
He actually understood whatever it was that came out of my mouth?
Huh.
Impressive.
"Wait," he says abruptly.
"What?"
"Is…" he hesitates for a moment, "Is he coming?"
"No! No, it's… it's over between us."
"Oh. I... I'm sorry, Marian."
"It's all right. Anyways, we're meeting in the Hightown Cinema at seven. Is that okay?"
"That's perfect." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Just one thing, though," he adds.
"Hmm?"
"Would it be all right if I brought someone along?"
"Of course it'd be all right!"
I'm dying, bursting, to ask who this someone is, but I bite my lower lip and summon all of the willpower within me to stop myself.
"Brilliant!"
"So, I'll see you and your someone at 7, then?"
"See you then!"
"'Kay!"
Crap! Now I'm boiling with curiosity!
Someone? Who is this someone?
Pffft. Look at me, fussing over my ex-boyfriend's life. I truly am pathetic.
Okay, Alistair's someone is leaving my brain… NOW.
Sigh. I need food.
When I head downstairs and enter the kitchen, I see Carver sulking over his steak and mash.
"What's up, Carve?" I ask as I grab a plate from one of the cupboards and start to spoon some mashed potatoes and peas onto it.
"Nothing," he mumbles without looking at me.
"Is the steak all right?"
"S'fine."
"Then, why are you glaring at it?"
He rolls his blue eyes and glares at me instead.
"Can't I ever be left alone? You and Mother are just constantly nagging at me! What do you want from me?" he asks, infuriated.
"Woah!" I raise up my hands and take a step back, "Relax, Carve! I don't want anything from you. I just want to know what's up. Is that a crime?"
His eyes back to glaring at his steak, he purses his lips and remains silent, clearly intent on ignoring me.
Taking the hint, I choose a steak from the pile left by Mother on the table and sit opposite Carver. Without uttering a word, I dig into my food.
I hate the sound of chewing.
I mean, my own chewing. Well, I hate the sound of other people's chewing as well, but it's never as loud as when it's in your own head.
And it's so freaking silent in this kitchen. It's like someone's chewing right in my ear.
"I want to join the militia," Carver suddenly says in a low voice.
I nearly choke on my food.
"The militia?" I ask with a choked voice. I clear my throat and drink some water before I ask him, "Why in Thedas would you want to join the militia?"
Carver glares at me as though I'd just said the most senseless thing in the world.
"Because I want to!" he snarls, "There's no point in talking me out of it. It's done. I'm going."
"But-"
"No, Marian," he cuts me off, his eyes filled with an intensity I've never seen in them before, "I want to be someone. Like Father wanted. Like I want. This is my chance."
"Does Mother know?" I ask.
"She does," he mutters, "She doesn't want me to go. Says it's too 'dangerous'."
"It is dangerous, Carver," I say imploringly, "Have you heard what people say about the Kirkwall militia and Commander Meredith? Have you seen the Gallows? It's a freaking fortress!"
"I have. And nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind. I've already decided, Marian." He stands up, his chair scraping against the kitchen floor as he pushes it back. "I'm going," he says with finality, and he leaves me alone at the kitchen table, his plate of food untouched.
"I want to tie Robert Downey Jr. to a bed and make him beg for mercy. Twice."
"Isn't that a line from the BBC Sherlock series?" I ask a gushing Isabela, "When Irene Adler seduces Sherlock and-"
"Yes, yes, you got me," Isabela rolls her eyes, "I forgot that we have a walking BBC Sherlock encyclopaedia with us."
"I love that show!" Merrill squeaks, "I like Dr. Watson."
"I know who Isabela likes," Anders waggles his eyebrows at her like an evil villain out of a cartoon.
"Everyone knows who Bela likes," Varric smirks, "It's all over her freaking facebook page!"
"It's not like I'm trying to hide it or anything," Isabela says, "Andrew Scott is hot. Andrew Scott as Jim Moriarty is even hotter."
"True that," I say, "Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock isn't too shabby either."
"Yeah, but he's got nothing on Moriarty," Isabela purrs, feigning a swoon.
"I should probably start watching it," the tanned brunette girl Alistair brought along says.
His special someone.
A.K.A his new girlfriend.
Eleanor Cousland is her name. She's from some aristocratic family based in Highever back in Ferelden. They met at a cheese tasting event some months ago. Apparently, they're head-over-heels in love with each other. It's very sweet to watch. I won't lie, though; the green monster of jealousy is slowly stirring within me. Whenever he holds her hand or places his hand in the small of her back, or when he plays with her long, brown hair and kisses her, I can't help but think about the old days. When Alistair was my life and I was his.
Ah, to be young and in love. I am so glad that phase is over with. Teenage hormones make you do the craziest things, I swear.
"So, where are we eating?" Alistair asks, his strong, muscular arm wrapped around Eleanor Cousland's waist (I refer to people I don't know very well by their full name. Don't ask me why).
"Wherever you guys like," I say, " My treat, remember? You don't have to worry about the money."
"Oooh, there's this really posh place I've always wanted to go to," Isabela says, "Actually, I went there once. It's Orlesian. I forget what it's called…"
"Fleur D'Orlais?" Varric asks.
"Yes!" Isabela exclaims, "That's the one!"
Crap.
Of all the freaking restaurants in Hightown, they had to pick the one Fenris and I had our first dinner date in.
Brilliant. Absolutely superb.
"Oooh! That place is so fancy!" Merrill says, bouncing on her toes with excitement.
"How about it, Marian?" Varric asks.
Yes.
Say yes, Hawke.
You promised that you wouldn't let some guy control your life and how you live it. So say fucking YES.
"Yeah, that place is great!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
On our way to Sovereign Avenue, my heart almost stops and falls out of my bum when I see a white-haired figure in the distance.
"Marian?" Anders' soft voice says from somewhere to my right, "Are you okay?"
"Huh?" I blink fast and turn to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes, "Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm okay.
Once again, my stupid face gives away everything.
First my mouth, then my face. It's a rebellion, I tell you!
As soon as Anders looks away, I quickly glance towards the direction of the white-haired figure.
Gone.
Whoever it was, they're gone.
It's probably my brain playing tricks on me. My entire body is turning against me, might as well be joined by my brain too.
"Oooh! Look at how fancy it is!" Merrill says when we arrive at Fleur D'Orlais's entrance.
"Wow," Anders whistles in appreciation, "I've never been near Sovereign Avenue, let alone this place."
"I've been here," Isabela says, her eyes darting from one Orlesian waiter to the other, "Hooked up with one of the waiters. Orlesian men are so good in bed, you have no idea."
"Oh, I'm sure we don't," I smirk.
"Wait," Isabela suddenly grabs my wrist, "Didn't you come here with Fen- I mean, with him?"
"You can say his name, Izzy, I don't care. And yes, we came here before. Same night Anders had his hissy fit with the Chantry," I add with a grin directed at Anders' (now blushing) face.
"I was drunk!" he says defensively.
"We know you were, Blondie," Varric grins devilishly, "Doesn't make it any less hilarious."
"What hissy fit?" Alistair asks.
"Table for seven?" a waiter asks us.
"Yes, please," I say before glancing at Alistair and adding, "We'll explain inside."
The waiter, a young redhead this time, shows us to a large table in the centre of the restaurant. When I spot the much smaller table by the window that Fenris chose for us all those months ago, I feel myself stiffen a bit. Suddenly, I see Fenris, chin resting on his knuckles, staring out the window, the pale moonlight illuminating his caramel skin and white markings, casting a strange blue hue on the latter. I see his green eyes studying my face, watching my every move. I see the corner of his lips curve up into a small smile as he listens to me talk and watches me eat. I feel the warmth of his skin as he gently places his hand over of mine…
"Hawke?" Varric asks.
"Hmm?"
"You've been really silent lately," he says from across the table, "Everything all right?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine. Absolutely fine."
"Want a sip of wine?" he asks, offering me his glass of red.
"You know I don't drink, Varric," I say with raised eyebrows.
"Just a sip," he smiles.
"Careful," Isabela says from my left, "She's got zero tolerance. One sip may be enough to send her peeing on the Chantry walls too."
"Oh, hardy har har," Anders says dryly.
"Couldn't resist, kitten," Isabela giggles.
"Will someone please tell me what this Chantry peeing and hissy fit is about?" Alistair asks impatiently.
"We'll tell you after Marian takes a sip," Varric grins.
"You don't drink, Marian?" Eleanor Cousland asks.
"Nope," I reply.
"She never liked it," Alistair explains with a fondness in his eyes as he watches me, "The smell and the taste always put her off."
"Here," Varric pushes his glass towards me, "Just a sip."
I take the wine glass in my hand and stare at its deep crimson contents. I swirl the liquid and take a sniff, scrunching my nose and recoiling away from the awful stench.
"Bleaugh," I make a face of utmost disgust, "I can't. I'll throw up! I'll throw up and ruin everyone's dinner, believe me."
"Oh, you sissy!" Isabela cackles as Varric reaches over and takes back his glass.
"Does this mean we can skip the Chantry story?" Anders asks hopefully.
"No!" we all exclaim in a chorus.
"Maker," Anders groans and covers his face with his (rather large) hands.
We spend the rest of the evening talking, joking, teasing, laughing and eating exceptionally pricey food (and drinking exceptionally pricey wine when it comes to the others). Eleanor Cousland proved to be a delightful person with a dirty sense of humour (Alistair's ears were constantly blushing from her risqué jokes), so she and Isabela really hit it off. All in all, it was a fantastic night out. I drove Alistair and Eleanor Cousland home while Varric took the rest of the motley crew in his Bentley.
Even though I had zero alcohol to drink, I am just about ready to crawl into bed and pass out. Before I head upstairs to my bedroom, I pass by the living room and give Mother (who has fallen asleep on the sofa with the television still on) a quick kiss on the cheek.
Finally, I fall into my very welcoming and warm bed. Just as I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, my phone vibrates on the bedside table.
I reach over and unlock the screen.
Message from Izzy:
Agreggio.
Bewildered, I type out a quick reply.
Huh?
Is she drunk?
Izzy: Agreggio. The wine Varric was trying to make you taste. It was the Agreggio.
What?
Why would he do that?
And why didn't he tell me?
Izzy: Goodnight, kitten.
What the?
These people I associate myself with?
They're weird.
