FENRIS
It has been two weeks since Hawke and Serena insisted on helping out the abomination. The days have been fairly quiet with relatively few disruptions from the usual town lowlifes. A brief calm in an otherwise merciless storm.
Danarius and his hirelings have yet to launch another attack on the mansion or otherwise. Although, I haven't given them much chance for success, regardless.
During the night, I often lie awake, either waiting for their next ambush or for Hawke and Serena to burst through the door, demanding to play a few rounds of Wicked Grace or Diamondback. Serena's most recent prize—a few bottles of piquette—sits piled beside the lit fireplace in my main quarters, abandoned and stained, just like the rest of this rotting, forsaken mansion.
The fruity scent of the liquor still lingers in the air, permeating the walls, my clothes, my nostrils. Yet another physical taunt I'm expected to deal with.
To cope with the mounting boredom and frustration sprung on me this uneventful night, I toss one bottle after the other into the lit hearth. The glass shatters upon hitting the distant stone, the initial impact forcing the flickering flames to flash in brilliant waves each time. A gratifying end to at least one of my problems.
But soon, the bottles run out.
And I'm once again left sitting alone, with nothing to do.
Noting to do but think.
My eyes scan the opposite side of the room, a part of me still half-expecting Serena to dip her head in at any moment, spewing out another humorous remark or retort.
But she doesn't.
And she won't.
I do not know why I still cling to the idea. She has not shown herself for five nights, ever since Hawke and I tried to probe her for more information about her past at the Hanged Man during our usual drinking night.
At the time, she looked more furious than a Ben-Hassrath who found the thief that stole their soul. A reasonable reaction on her part. One we should have expected, given our past attempts.
But we were too overconfident in the strength of our numbers. Too careless and too greedy, that we did not fear waking the sleeping lioness. And now we are paying the price for such miscalculations.
But is it possible she is still upset? Even now? Surely, she must know we meant no true ill will. And several days have already passed.
Perhaps I should pay her a visit?
I stand up and head for the door.
Upon reaching midway, however, I stop. "Venhedis!" I curse.
What am I thinking?
I dig my fingers deep into my hair and whip back around.
Why must I concern myself with this? With her? I should be focused on tracking down Danarius. How that woman feels is none of my business. This is no time to be playing mind games like young children!
Cursing further in Tevene under my breath, I lean against the cool, adjacent wall and sit down on the floor, letting my aching legs stretch out in front of me.
The sounds of the crackling flames in the hearth fill the room again. Filling the void. Breaking the silence.
But it still doesn't seem loud enough.
Nothing feels like quite enough.
A set of familiar, rhythmic knocks joins the flames chorus from downstairs.
My ears twitch. I glance over at the open bedroom door.
That's Hawke's coded knock. The one Varric and I insisted he come up with after I almost accidentally tore his heart out the first time he barged in, unannounced.
There's a brief moments pause before the front door creaks open then slams shut.
Soon afterwards, I hear it. Hawke's paced footsteps ascending the central stairs. Alone. They slow as they enter my bedroom quarters, his dark eyes searching before at last falling onto me.
The corners of his lips curl up into a grand, teasing smile. "Isn't it a bit early to be drinking alone this time of night? Do you have nothing better to do?"
I roll my eyes and suppress the urge to let out a loud groan. "What do you want Hawke?" I mutter.
Hawke smirks. "Your aid. I figured it's been long enough. I've gathered the rest of our party members. Care to join us?"
"Our mission?"
"To locate a few missing templars, who are possibly 'clearing their heads' outside of Kirkwall. The usual."
"Very well," I grumble. Anything beats sitting around like this.
Hawke helps me to my feet.
I storm across the room, grab and resheathe Lethendralis, and the two of us make our way for the exit.
Hawke pauses as we near the front door. "Oh, also, I managed to convince someone to join us." He grins back at me before waltzing outside.
The rest of our party awaits us under the pale moonlight. Varric and Bethany both surround Serena, who's leaning against the wall beside the nearby stairs.
She looks up at both of us and smiles.
My breath instantly catches in my throat.
I only start breathing again when Hawke gives me a firm pat on the shoulder. "She's decided to forgive us," he whispers close to my ear. "Good news, right?"
I chuckle, and Hawke walks over to gather the others.
Yes. Very good news indeed.
