SERENA
Tomorrow.
Why did I agree to tomorrow?
That's hardly enough time to prepare for anything, much less a conversation to be had on this level.
Such regrets haunt me as I stare up at the massive Hawke estate. The usually welcoming abode now appears haunted, cursed, like an unwelcome manifestation, originating from my worst nightmares.
Just what does Hawke hope to gain from this talk, exactly?
What will he ask? How will he react?
And by the Dread Wolf, what am I supposed to even say?
I know it's pointless to worry about such things. That I just need to be honest and speak my mind, like Leliana said. But . . . how do I do that?
My hands alone haven't stopped shaking since I first woke up this morning. Forget the status of my current wobbly legs, or the fact I'm literally tongue-tied before seeing him!
I sigh, lower my head, then pinch the bridge of my nose.
Gods, this is why I've always avoided these types of situations. I'm utterly useless when it comes to personal romance confrontations.
The judgy stares from the hightown passersby just make the nerves and feelings of inadequacy all the worse.
At least I didn't have to explain this to Zevran this morning, though, like I planned. That would've just been the icing on the cake. But for whatever reason, he snuck out on a chore before sunrise today, sparing me that additional torture.
I'll still have to tell him later. That I'm aware. It's only right.
Not that I have any idea what to say to him or Fenris either, regardless of today's chat's outcome.
I groan and ruffle up my hair, my nerves prickling from head to toe now, just thinking of all the possible futures and conversations that might lie ahead.
No. I need to stop worrying about all this. Stop thinking and just act. Nothing will progress or change if I just stand here, wasting daylight, stressing myself out.
We have to solve this. Quick. For everyone in our group.
Whatever happens, happens, and at the bare minimum, we'll at least finally have some answers, that can help us move forward.
All I have to do now is . . . knock on the door.
HAWKE
The glowing foyer hearth crackles beside me. Its flickering flames illuminate my every step, as I pace relentlessly back and forth in front of the fireplace. Titan watches me curiously from the corner of the adjacent rug, curled up comfortably in his usual spot beside the blaze.
He must think I'm foolish, too. He must.
After all, how could I have been so foolhardy as to initiate this meeting in the first place?
Yes, I want to rectify our current situation. I do. It's what's best, for us and the group. But I didn't think about what might be said, how this might affect things going forward!
I'm not naive enough to believe this will turn out as anything more than what I've already feared—than what I already know. That, in the end, she can't feel the same way about me. That I waited too long to make my intentions clear. That she's unable to leave or forget about Zevran.
I know all of this, I do. I've seen the bond the share.
So why? Why do I need it to be said?
Why do I still possess a smidgen of pointless hope?
My stomach flops as a soft knock raps at the front door. Titan perks up, and with a quick sniff in its direction, starts wagging his tail.
Great.
Definitely Serena.
Perfect.
My heart races.
Intaking an unsteady, deep breath, I march toward the entrance. Every part of me stiffens upon reaching for its handle, knowing she waits on the other side.
Maker, what have I done?
I gulp and slowly pull open the door. A bright beam of morning sunlight streaks in, blinding me for a second, before I spy Serena's figure.
She jolts and looks up at me, her eyes widening and glistening like glorious, azure jewels, crafted from the seas themselves.
"Welcome," I usher her in with what feels like an unnatural wave of my hand. Because of course I can't act natural with her actually standing in front of me.
She nods and steps inside. Paying no comment to what feels like the most awkward greeting of my life.
Inwardly smacking myself over the matter, I close the door behind us and lead us into the foyer, over to our typical card table. Although, it's become more of my napping table these days. Correspondence for 'the Champion' just continues to pile in, and I can't seem to keep up. Both in actuality and energy wise.
Hence, napping table.
We plop down into our respective old seats, both of us still silent and avoiding looking directly at each other.
Andraste's knickers, it's like the two of us are strangers, forced into an unplanned, high-risk, negotiations meeting, on favors for another!
I groan within at the vexing comparison. The thought immediately reminding me of work.
This is not how I wanted things to start out.
Flames. Think of something to say! Anything to change this atmosphere!
"I—"
"How—"
We both speak up at the same time.
The two of us stop and finally look at each other, both our mouths agape and bodies tense.
Serena's gaze softens, her lips curling upward into the faintest of smiles. A giggle escapes her, and then, she bursts out in whole-hearted laughter.
I can't help but do so as well, the liveliness contagious.
"What are we doing?" I ask between uncontrollable chuckles, slowly relaxing deeper into my chair's cushion, the phantom pressure that's been following me around all day and night at last dissipating into memory.
"Being awkward, it seems." Serena reclines back as well. "Who would've thought? The legendary Hero of Ferelden and formidable Champion of Kirkwall, becoming awkward messes when trying to speak to each other?"
"The scandal!" I snicker. "It would be the talk of the court for weeks!"
"Not if Varric has anything to say about it. He's got too many stories to tell about us still, before we can warp our 'public' images."
The two of us keep laughing, easing into a more comfortable silence, enveloped by familiar warmth.
I smile up at her again once we both start to calm down.
"Thank you for coming today," I restart, the words coming easier now, but the nerve-tingling returning. "I know . . . we haven't had the chance to talk much like this lately, and I regret that. I should have been making more time for all of you in my schedule. For that, I'm sorry."
"There's no need for you to apologize, Hawke," Serena says with sassy tilt of her head. "I think out of everyone, I understand best how crazy things can get when you're trying to save the town."
"Just the town?" I quirk an eyebrow at her.
Serena rolls her eyes. "And potentially a few hundred mages, templars, and other unhelpful onlookers. Better now?"
"Hm. Maybe." I shrug, enjoying our rebuttals. "Though, I might add a few wild companions to that list." I grin at her, and Serena laughs and shakes her head.
"That, too," she concedes.
This.
This is what I've been missing.
The camaraderie. The laughter.
The ease of just enjoying another's existence.
How could I have been such a numbskull as to eliminate the already limited time I had allocated for such opportunities? In hopes of appeasing others?
Something must seriously be wrong with me.
That or maybe Carver was right, and I really do have half a brain. Not that he was ever one to talk.
"On-On that note," I clear my throat, dispelling the thought and the accompanying spat that came with it.
Serena's teal eyes bore into mine again. The steadiness of her captivating gaze makes my pulse quiver and quicken, like a blighted schoolboy, fumbling around his first crush.
"We . . . We've never spoken about what happened between us three years ago," I say, shifting focus onto the ground. For it's impossible to speak more while looking at her, without feeling like I might explode. "I've been trying to give you the space you needed, to figure everything out. And I . . . want you to know, I still care for you. But I also understand our current . . . predicament, and the complications that've arisen. If you'd prefer, I can retract what I said before, and we can pretend it never happened. But I—"
I stop.
I don't dare continue. The additional rambling a dreaded taboo. Forbidden.
"Hawke," Serena says, and I flinch.
The seriousness of her voice feels like a piercing stab to the heart. Burning. Twisting. Flaying. Carving out pieces, one tiny fragment after another.
"I . . . do have feelings for you," she says.
And for a brief moment, my breathing hitches. The last catching in the back of my throat.
Wait.
What?
"However," she continues before I can jump up and spout off into a hundred new questions, "they're . . . complicated."
I take in breath again, the tension inside me slowly diminishing, but the confusion and urge for an explanation no less striking.
Serena fidgets with her hands in her lap, clasping and unclasping them with vexing monotonous, while I sit frozen stiff. Watching her. Spellbound. Reality still feeling slowed, distorted, failing to sink in.
She glimpses up at me with a rare timidness glimmering in her eyes, her rigid posture and strained brow emanating uncharacteristic nerves, mixed with hesitant determination.
"I know I'm physically attracted you," she confesses, grasping the end of her armored skirt. "And I do feel a strong emotional connection to you. Like you understand me, in ways others cannot. But . . . I worry this might just be the 'fellow hero' perspective talking. That maybe this is just lust and we're only good friends. I don't know. I'm not certain . . . As such, however, I-I can't say I'm in love with you, or that I could be with you, even if Zevran wasn't here. There's . . . a lot of other things still standing in our way. A lot more than just us being human or elf. You're also a noble. An Andrastian. We possess completely different backgrounds, languages, cultures, and religions. Not to mention, we butt heads all the time personality wise as well."
She pauses, and I furrow my brow in thought.
Hm. That is all true.
I hadn't considered it much in the past, given I never thought they'd be such a big deal.
Putting the facts into one sentence, though . . . they're definitely not something to be taken lightly. Though, I could also argue they're just excuses. Adversity that, given some willpower, can be overcome. Much like any other strain in an ordinary relationship, if we were to even pursue one.
"So . . . what now?" I ask, my hope dangling by a curious but confused thread.
Serena wraps her arms around herself and shrugs. "I don't know what you expect me to say to that." She sighs. "This entire situation is complex now. I'm no longer, in truth, a single woman. I . . ."
She bites her lip.
"I . . . grew up with the belief of only being bound to one person. That is the way of the Dalish—the People. And I take that oath seriously, the occasional, agreed upon dalliance aside. I never even considered loving multiple people at once, and even if I try now, and we were to find some way to make this work, would you be alright with that? Knowing I still have feelings for and interactions with another? Because I can't leave Zevran. I still love and respect him, and a part of me always will. I won't break or betray our oath. I can't."
My heart sinks.
I imagine the two together, and my stomach churns. The answer absolute.
"No, I-I don't think I would be alright with that," I reply, the mere idea tearing me apart.
Serena's shoulders slump. "I . . . understand." She gulps, lowering her head. The prior tension returning to both of our postures. "So then, as you asked earlier . . . what now?"
I hesitate.
No matter how hard I try to shake it, everything inside me aches. Screams. My internal spirit slit to tatters, tossed into a cutting, inescapable abyss.
I stare at Serena, dumbfounded in the bitter, gnawing aftermath, my mouth hanging wide open. Her pained expression a near mirror image of my own.
"Friends?" I barely whisper. Though my chest twinges to even say it.
Serena swallows hard and nods. "Best friends," she affirms with a forced, delicate smile.
The two of us stare at each other another long, painful moment, the fireplace's flickering flames crackling in the foreground, casting dancing shadows across our unmoving faces. A fitting parallel to the dark closing of one of our potential futures.
And then, the two of us both stand.
We tug ourselves into a tight embrace, as if reaching for all we could've had, should fate had chosen an alternate ending. That last thread of optimism I've been holding onto for so long shred to unsalvageable, mangled ribbons.
