Our Ghosts Are The Same
Dragon Age 2
Chapter 19: Home, Sweet Home?
A/N: Inquisition won't play on my pc and I don't want to talk about it.
She regretted killing Gascard. Wait. Strike that. She regretted the consequences that followed after killing Gascard. Being chased by Meredith's templars out of Kirkwall's Chantry certainly wasn't the first time something of that nature had befallen Hawke and if she had anything to do with it it wouldn't be the last.
"How long do you think it'll be until Meredith lets me go back to Kirkwall?" Hawke rolled over, groaning. The sea made her sick so the majority of the trip she spent locked in the captain's cabin, having taken over what was supposed to have been Cousland's bed. Cousland sat at a desk nearby, unfinished documents lay unattended to. Reading while the sea rocked them back and forth had only succeeded in giving him a migraine. Or Hawke had succeeded in giving him a migraine. Either were very likely.
"Why would you want to?"
A fair question, Hawke supposed. She moved to lay on her stomach in order to glare at him better. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because my friends all live there? If you want me to be your spy-"
"Correction; I don't want you to do anything and you're not 'my' spy."
"Regardless, if I accept-"
"Correction; you already accepted."
That's going to get annoying. "When I do this 'spy' thing, wouldn't it be easier if I was actually in Kirkwall to do the spying?"
The look he gave her let her know he had already thought this through days ago. "You have friends still in Kirkwall. Let them report to you. That is generally how a spymaster works. They don't do the field work-"
"I like the field work."
There was something odd about this smile; it seemed genuine. "As do I," Cousland agreed. "But things change."
She reluctantly considered things as he had. "I suppose if I convinced Aveline and Varric to help me. I could take Aveline's boring, straight to the fact report and Varric's complete bullshit and just make them meet somewhere in the middle."
"Now you're talking like a politician."
"Am I supposed to hate myself this much."
"It comes with the territory," he snorted. "It's a damn nuisance."
Hawke sat up quickly and crossed her legs. She was only wearing one sock. "And you dragged me into this, Cousland. Thanks for that."
She almost thought it was a trick of the light, but, no, it happened. Cousland's winked at her. It was striking to see that in such a serious and weathered face and not in someone like, say, Isabela.
"Oh no." Hawke had a thing for winking. When Isabela had thrown a wink her way after they had killed Hayder (in the Chantry, Hawke remembered) the only thing that had stopped Hawke from hitting that up was the fact Varric had caught her trying to sneak by his room in the Hanged Man to meet up with her. If she recalled correctly she had gotten out of that one by acting lost and speaking in somewhat fluent Orleasian. Still was not sure how that had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, the bastard had winked at her and now had that half-assed smile he wore when he felt it was required. Hawke openly stared at him until it became uncomfortable for all involved.
Finally she asked quietly, "What do you think I should have done?"
They both knew that that was pointless to ask; nothing could be done differently now. But he answered anyway. "You should have stayed and made your case to Meredith until she saw you were right."
"Was I right?"
"It does not matter if you were right. What matters is that you are perceived as being right."
He was a noble's son. There would be no forgetting that, especially when Cousland made such troubling remarks. Eager to move on to a new subject, Hawke searched for a nearby distraction. "Uhhh," she eloquently put, lifting a bottle of the Captain's stolen rum. "Want to get drunk?"
"Oh, yes."
Hawke had stood on the ship too long after they had docked in Amaranthine. Cousland was aware of what she was doing; she was stalling. He supposed he should handle this gently, returning home for the first time in years was bound to be difficult.
"Move your arse." Cousland grabbed a hold of both of her shoulders and shoved until she stumbled down the ramp connecting the ship to the pier.
She stammered, "What's the rush?" Why was he so pushy? Couldn't give her one measly minute? Hawke knew once she stepped foot on Ferelden soil there would be little chance she'd (if Meredith even allowed it) be ever able to make herself return to Kirkwall.
And there it was. She stumbled face forward in an anti-climatic gesture and literally ate dirt. Or snow. Dear Maker, it was snowing. She hadn't experienced that in a long ass time.
"I am not one of your underlings!" Hawke dramatically slammed her fist on the ground for much needed emphasis. "You cannot treat a champion this way! I killed my way to this title and I-"
"You're also calling attention to yourself." Yet Cousland still stopped to drag her to her feet and start tugging her along again. "Come on, Hawkling. There's a Warden company in town and we're going to march back to the Keep with them."
"March? I'm afraid I lack the coordination to march in step."
He was unapologetic. "So are most of these farmboys. You should see your brother. I've heard stories."
"Shit." That's right. That Warden Stroud must have taken Carver to the very place they were going now; Vigil's Keep. She wasn't sure how Carver would feel about a surprise visit from his favorite sister by default. Actually, she knew. He'd hate it.
Cousland had led them to a large regiment of Grey Wardens in uniform and had immediately started giving orders. Hawke followed him around, lost and trying to pay close attention to whatever was going on. At least she tried to follow along. His dog, Moira, was doing her best to keep Hawke away from her master.
"I don't want to sound paranoid but I think your dog hates me."
"Probably does. She's very protective. Was not at all pleased when she found out you were coming home with us."
"Well, that's just-" Shit. Shitshitshitshit. "I left my dog. Rebel's never going to forgive me. I can't believe I left him! He's probably pissing on everything!"
"Your dog is not well trained." He sounded indifferent but, being Ferelden and knowing how important a hound can be, Cousland sent her a slightly sympathetic glance her way. Then it turned actually sympathetic. "You're shivering."
"My tongue is freezing to the roof of my mouth, of course I'm shivering!"
Cousland placed an arm around her shoulders in a display of chivalry she did not appreciate. "Get your arm off me and get me a damn coat."
"This is not the coat for me."
Evident from the Champion's clearly voiced displeasure, Aedan's taste in women's clothing was less than sufficient. Granted what he had given her had been all that he had.
It was a warden's uniform. One of Sienna's extra uniforms that had survived the journey to be precise.
"I understand it's not your 'signature' color-"
"Obviously. Blue just doesn't hide bloodstains as well as red does. That's basic fashion design, Warden."
"It's all we have. Adapt." He led her to the company he previously mentioned. They were already in ranks; Cousland shuffled her to the back and stuck her in ranks behind some lanky fellow. "Just follow this man and watch his feet," Cousland instructed her, pointing to the warden in front of her. "Try not to step on his heels." To the warden in front of Hawke Aedan said, "She's going to step on your heels."
Hawke scowled as Cousland walked up to the front of the ranks, she presumed to take lead. She presumed wrong. Someone else held up the front and Cousland rapidly made his way to the back. He stopped off to the left of their ranks and waited. She didn't know what for and was about to ask until the woman up front shouted, "Wardens, atten-shun!" Everyone else around her snapped to attention while Hawke was left standing there loosely and with bad posture.
The next call was, "Forward, march" and suddenly they were moving. Hawke stumbled after them, her eyes downcast and attempting to fall into step with everyone else. She discovered it was much harder than it looked and instantly felt a pang of sympathy for her brother.
Someone was barking out 'left' which Hawke assumed meant she should be stepping with her left foot at that time and that was something she was definitely not doing.
"A hostile situation.*"
Now someone was singing? What even was the military? As Hawke struggled to keep pace, the rest of the wardens echoed, ""A hostile situation."
Ah, she was supposed to be singing, too? Hawke looked to Cousland for explanation and quickly found more questions. She found out who was singing.
Aedan was marching and called out next, "Started up again."
Another echo from the rest of the wardens before Cousland sang out again, "Then the bloody darkspawn. Then the bloody darkspawn."
"Invaded Ferelden. Invaded Ferelden."
Hawke jumped along with the resounding "HEY!" the wardens yelled out.
"Men at waaaar, men at waaaar-"
Cousland could sing? No, that couldn't be right. He was the 'drink in thoughtful silence type', not the 'join in with tavern songs when everyone got a little too drunk' type.
"Late at night when you're sleeping Emissaries come a creeping all aroooouuunnnd...a creepin' all around! HEY!"
And clearly she was wrong and continued to be wrong as the Warden-Commander's voice rang out above all the others.
"They came to find their wounded. They came to find their wounded. "
"They came to claim their dead. They came to claim their dead."
"Hear the Arch-Demon coming. Hear the Arch-Demon coming."
"It's hummin' over head. It's hummin' over head."
"HEY! Men at waaar-"
There were three more verses of this, all of which Hawke listened to in total disbelief.
Why had he kept this from her? To think, she could have been teasing him about this all this time.
Hawke decided to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, as usual, Cousland was unembarrassed and listened to her jests patiently and without emotion.
He really knew how to take the fun out of everything.
"I need paper. And ink. And a rubber seal of my own. Something classy. And subtle, but not too subtle, you understand?"
Aedan wished that just once Hawke could ask for a favor simply, with maybe a little groveling and without all these unnecessary adverbs and adjectives. "Marian, we're still half a days march from Vigil's Keep. Believe it or not but I do not have the time to design you your own seal."
"Not with that attitude."
Most of what she says is just white noise. "Are you writing a letter?"
"I need to let Rebel know where I am. And also Aveline and Varric."
"If you think that's best," he responded noncommittally. Personally he thought Hawke should wait on that communication. However, it was her choice and she rarely welcomed his opinion before on serious matters.
She frowned. "I can tell you think I'm wrong but I want you to know I'm prettier than you."
"That has absolutely nothing to do with anything."
"Sounds like something the second prettiest human in the camp would say."
Varric Tethras was doing as he did best; he was spreading rumors. Rumors that the Champion's act of blatant defiance of Meredith in the Chantry was really the Champion being overenthusiastic.
He knew Meredith did not care that Gascard had died, it was the 'how' of it that bothered her. Bothered her, drove her madder than she already was...ah, he'd get the phrasing right eventually.
His rumors were working, albeit slowly. Even eyewitnesses were starting to question. Overwhelming evidence had been found on Gascard's person. Few of the common folk sympathized with a dead necromancer with detached limbs in his pack, regardless of where he had been killed or by who.
Rumors, however, were not going to convince Meredith. Logic and reason rarely convinced Meredith, Varric snorted in contempt. His endeavors would be indubitably more successful if Hawke were still in Kirkwall. Which she wasn't and her friends were starting to worry. After all, she had left Rebel behind and there were few situations Varric could imagine (and he had a vast imagination) where Hawke would purposely abandon her hound.
Worst of all, Meeran and some of his personal guards had taken up residence in Hawke's estate, claiming the mansion had been part of a secret agreement. Varric had argued but faced with no other options he was forced to move Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal out and into Fenris's lovely, though decaying home.
Aveline had lost her mind. She was certain Hawke had not vanished under her own design and had half her guard out everyday looking for her in rather unsavory places. Merrill had turned to her mirror for comfort, Sebastian was trying his damnedest to handle the Chantry fiasco, and Fenris...
Varric didn't want to go into that.
"Hawke, where are you?"
He received a somewhat vague answer a few weeks later.
Dearest Varric,
As you may well know by now, I fucked up. Don't worry...actually please worry I'm panicking as I write this. I might not be back in
I won't be back in Kirkwall for a while. Take care of Rebel for me; I had to leave in a hurry. A few of Meredith's more enthusiastic employees ignored orders and chased after me.
Anyway, you'll never guess where I am! Well, hopefully you will because I'm afraid to say in this letter exactly where. Hope you're a good guesser.
I'll send another letter soon. Tell the others not to worry.
Except you. Worry. I'm frightened.
Sincerely,
your bestest and most problematic friend (also the warden likes to sing-please spread this like wildfire)
He had to put the letter down for a long time before Varric left to find Aveline.
If she had to pick only a single word to describe the Warden's Keep Hawke would have to go with "fortified".
Vigil's Keep was large and foreboding and, Hawke presumed, just the way the Warden-Commander liked it. The Keep had it's own stables and there was a blacksmith throwing a fit in one corner. And the courtyard was filled with practice dummies and equipment and wardens.
"You've been expanding," she remarked because Cousland was staring her down and waiting for a reaction. She knew he was expecting her to be impressed and try as she might she could not honestly disappoint him. "I had heard there were only three Grey Wardens left, counting the king, when you fought the Arch-Demon."
"Increasing our numbers has always been difficult. There's little glory seen in becoming a warden now, after the Blight." Cousland stood next to her and stretched. "But there will be time for a tour later. I had word sent ahead to your brother of your arrival."
Her stomach sank quickly. "Oh, you did."
"The report back stated that he will be mildly pleased to hear from you."
Mildly pleased? That was a start. "Are you exaggerating?"
"Have I ever?"
She couldn't recall. "Fine, Cousland. Let's meet Brother Dearest."
"No." He shrugged in silent apology. "I have too many other things to attend to. I'm back home. My vacation time is officially over."
She was incredulous. "That time back in Kirkwall was your vacation? You actively sought out darkspawn to fight."
"And that was the highlight of the trip. But now I need to speak to my second-in-command." He patted her awkwardly. "Good luck with your brother."
"Luck has never been my family's strong suit."
He nodded and headed back to his Keep. "As with mine."
It was when Cousland left that Hawke realized she didn't know where she was going.
After a few awkward encounters she finally found someone to escort her to one of the Keep's libraries so she could wait for her brother. Her escort assured her they would bring her brother to her as soon as possible. An hour later Carver found his sister passed out in a library chair.
Carver was in full dress uniform and Hawke felt the strangest pang of emotion swell up in her chest. She sat opposite him in the warden's mess hall.
"Sister."
"Brother."
Nathaniel barely noticed when Aedan entered the office. He was shuffling through papers and humming absentmindedly to himself. Aedan rapped lightly on the door and said, "Good afternoon, Warden-Commander."
The acting commander never looked up. "The reports will be down in a minute. Have patience as I instructed earlier."
That was not the welcome Aedan had anticipated. "Nathaniel, it's me."
"Aedan?" Nathaniel coughed and immediately dropped what he was doing. "My apologies, I've been-"
"Believe me, I know," Aedan shook his head with a grin. "This job is a nightmare."
Nathaniel chuckled darkly in agreement. "You're taking it back. I hope you realize that." A moment and then, "Shit, I have some...news."
"I don't like that pause."
"A wedding invitation was sent to Vigil's Keep a few days ago."
"What do you mean you received a wedding invitation while I was away?"
"The Couslands and the Mac Tir's are uniting their families. Next month. Your presence has been requested immediately."