Author's Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to "Dragon Age 2/3."
Author's notes: This chapter time jumps a few weeks and months at a time. Let's just go with it.
Tautina: hey, feel free to leave more reviews, that sounds good :P
"Catching the Wind"
Chapter forty-one "The Western Approach"
Merrill let the door to the kitchen fall bump against her back. It nudged her once then fell back into place.
Sparrow grasped her collar, mumbling under her breath as both of them adjusted to the dim light. Only two candles were lit, supplying a meager light. The elf could make out Isabela, sitting with her back against the wall, one bottle opened. She kept sipping directly from the bottle, taking long gulping sips.
Merrill sighed. "Isabela. Maybe you shouldn't…."
Isabela grunted and gave her a baleful look. "Maybe I should."
Sparrow clutched at Merrill's collar, then the edges of her longer hair. Merrill tried not to yelp and pried the baby's fingers from around her hair. "Not too much," she said gently. Isabela grunted, giving her another look. She took a long pull from the neck of the bottle in her hand. Merrill squinted at the label. "Ferelden white wine? That's a fine one isn't it."
"Sure tastes like it." But Isabela did set the bottle down by her leg. Merrill tried to take that for a good sign. She smiled when Isabela suddenly belched. "Goes down fast, too…."
"The way you're swallowing, I don't doubt it." Merrill sat beside Isabela's leg. Sparrow pushed against her to be put down and crawled between them, smiling. Isabela stared at her youngest pup almost critically. But she let the pup lift and play with her hand, the one not holding the bottle. She winced when Sparrow nipped the edge of one finger.
"Hey, be nice, pup," she muttered. Sparrow gave a loud cry then leaned against her leg, small downy head on her thigh. Isabela's fingers sifted through her black curls. Merrill tried to smile but tears were in her eyes. She sniffled and Isabela felt guilty.
"She missed you. We all did. Oh, Bela, what are we gonna do?" she asked plaintively. Isabela wiped the tears from the elf's eyes with one wrist.
"Stop, Kitten. I barely made it back here without collapsing and you crying's only gonna make me cry," Isabela murmured. When Merrill couldn't or wouldn't stop, she leaned to put her arm around her shoulder. She eyed the wine bottle out of the corner of her eye. Darn them, they'd gotten her full attention and she couldn't pick it up. Merrill buried her face against Isabela's shoulder and sniffed. Sparrow raised her head, staring at her mothers in confused worry.
Isabela gave her a wink to ease her mood and stroked Merrill's hair humming softly. "Kitten, we'll find her. And then I'll strip the meat off her hide for making you cry. Or the pups."
"You too," Merrill sniffled." It's okay to cry. She left…"
"Don't," Isabela begged. She couldn't bear to hear Merrill finish that sentence with "left us." Ever since her mother had sold her into an unwanted marriage, she'd strove to be the one to do the leaving. And now dumb Hawke had ensnared her, body and soul, and rushed off when she wasn't looking to play the gallant hero. If she didn't love her so much, she'd strangle her. In fact, she still might…..
Merrill's hand laid over hers and the baby played with their joined fingers. "Where can the Inquisition go? Hawke will be with them…"
Isabela felt like kicking herself. In her rush to scour the closest ports on the Antivan coast, she hadn't thought to gain more information on the erstwhile Inquisition. Someone would have had information on where they stayed, where home base was.
"Yes, she will… well, I'll go seeking them next, Kitten. Sorry."
Merrill raised her head, looking at Isabela through tear-stained eyes. "It's not your fault. You found this at least…"
Isabela gave a ragged laugh. "Yeah, her bloody admonition of guilt."
"Bela…."
Isabela scratched the back of the elf's head, fingers scraping through her hair affectionately. "Sorry…."
"We'll find her. When we do, you'll let her come home won't you?"
Isabela wanted to bite off a snarl but the forlorn heartbroken look in Merrill's eyes made her bite her tongue. She swallowed and leaned her head back against the wooden wall behind her. Sparrow laid her head against her thigh again, babbling softly. Her heart lightened barely.
"Yes….for you and the pups at least."
That was good enough for now and Merrill knew no matter how mad Isabela was, eventually she would let their mate back into her arms once she came home.
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"Knew you'd be back." The demon sounded insufferably smug. Merrill clutched her elbows in both hands as she stalked through the woods on the island. It was dark and the odd bonfire or lantern in a house's window lit the way in patches of light.
"I didn't come to bargain." Merrill tried to sound strong, but her words were soft as always. She coughed. "Anyways, I came to tell you I don't need you. Leave me be."
"Are you suuuuure?" The voice was wheedling as all hell and it was starting to anger the elf. She bit her lip, turning on her heel to spin back towards the houses. The demon's next words made her trip all over herself instead. "Who knows what your mate is doing, WHO she's doing. Are you certain you don't need to know?"
Hawke, lay with someone else? Other than her mates? It was a strange thought and Merrill hadn't ever wanted to believe it could be a possibility. But these days, dark thoughts were a constant companion. Merrill shook her head hard. "I don't believe that…..she wouldn't."
The demon seemed to pounce, for the voice was all the closer as Merrill stopped her pace. The last time Hawke had lain with her had been a couple of weeks before her disappearance. A bad thought clung to her and Merrill shook her head hard. If she could have been with her sooner to leaving, she would have! Wouldn't she? Merrill remember how sweet and thorough Hawke had been. Her every movement told Merrill she loved her. Then why leave?
"Oh, she will. It's not unheard of…for warriors away from home to seek comfort elsewhere. Or at the very least, pleasure…."
Merrill frowned. She touched the bite mark across her throat with three fingers, caressing the ridges made by Hawke's teeth. She had been the one to mark Hawke first, but she still had taken her in the end. Even after Isabela, after their reunion… they were all in this together. If Hawke returned! If she could lay with someone else, would she?
"She has pleasure! With us…"
"Oh, innocent little elf." The voice was sing-song and blisteringly sweet. "Who knows how long the Inquisition's battles will go on for? It could be years before she has you within reach again…."
A pang settled between Merrill's legs but instead of growing to a soft ache, it was a dull pain that she knew only her mate could soothe. Years…it could be years Hawke was away! Unless Isabela found her first… dammit!
"Bother me no longer, demon!" Merrill called, but her words were tentative. The demon laughed at her as she spun on her heel and raced back to the captain's house. Isabela was surrounded by the pups on the couch, stroking Falcon's hair idly. The tall boy had been angry through her trip, and it did Merrill good to see him relaxing for a change. She was recounting some story about sailing and the girls were already nodding off in her lap.
Merrill knelt in front of the couch and collected Sparrow. The toddler slung her arms around her neck and yawned against her. "Shall we go to bed, darlings?"
Readying for bed was a sad affair. Magpie opened her eyes, yawning. Lark picked her up and the whole family moved to the girls' room. Sparrow went into her crib easily, limbs spread limply as she fell asleep the instant she was laid in. Lark helped Isabela tuck in Magpie. The pirate sat on the edge of the girls' bed, stroking her hair. She whispered a good night and Magpie nodded, eyes fluttering closed.
Merrill met Isabela's eyes and the tired pirate shrugged. They were all exhausted and it was showing. The adults and twins sidled out to the hall and Isabela hugged both boys. "Good night," she said in a tone of voice to not be bothered until morning.
Falcon opened the door of their room and nodded. "Night, Mama….Mamae."
"Good night, my loves," Merrill said sweetly to them. Merrill's gaze moved over the features of Hawke's children. She could see her mate in those features, and her heart ached. Lark gave her a shy grin before they shut the door to their room. Isabela sighed. The house seemed smaller without Hawke. She turned to her children's other mother.
"Well, no point in staying out there."
"Yes…."
Inside their shared bedroom, Isabela sighed as she removed her bandana, earrings and the rest of her jewelry. Merrill shrugged out of her tunic and leggings and found herself pulling on her shift opposite Isabela. A sudden flash of dark skin and Merrill blinked. Isabela regarded her curiously as she smoothed her shift over her round breasts.
"Just the first trip. I'll find her, Kitten."
Merrill tried to smile and warm to the notion. Hawke wasn't gone forever. "I believe you, Bela."
"Good. Cause I can't stand it when you give me that doe-eyed look," Isabela teased. There was a bite of barb in her words, but Merrill warmed to her flirtatious tone which meant she was relaxing. The two women put out the lantern and settled under the light coverlet. Merrill turned and buried her face into Isabela's shoulder, finding her in the dark.
Their hands twined under the blanket.
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Weeks later…
The Western Approach was hot and dry. Hawke had been glad at first to see the new land, desert as it were. Her homeland of Ferelden had always been verdant and green, and the change of scenery distracted her at first. But the sun beat down hard and sweat cropped in the seams of her traveling clothes that did not let her skin breathe well enough. Oh, she was blasted hot. And she had forgotten to ask a scout for a wide-brimmed hat, so she had to keep blinking the sun out of her gaze.
Angela padded beside her and Hawke gave him a glance. The mabari's tongue was hanging well out of his mouth. He could not be handling the heat any better than she was, but she hoped he wasn't worse for the wear. At the next camp, Hawke resolved to have Angela stay with the Inquisitor's soldiers and stay out of the sun. She didn't want to have to tell her pups that something had happened to him during her travels.
A band of four was across the swatch of desert across from her and Hawke hurried to join the Inquisitor's small party.
"Serah Hawke," Cadash said politely. Hawke gave her a nod of the head. She scrubbed the wrist of her glove across her sweaty brow.
"Inquisitor. The fortress ruins are to the east a few miles. Stroud is waiting."
"Excellent," the Iron Bull said from his place in line. "I'm itching for a fight."
"Wolves and beasts aren't enough for you?" Dorian quipped. The Bull laughed a deep laugh.
"Men think themselves clever and always put up a fight. Especially mages."
Dorian's hand clenched around his mage's staff. "Well that is true enough…..and I AM clever enough for it."
"Oh you…." Cadash joined the jesting. Cassandra gave a grunt of dismay as the party trekked along. There were a few men waiting in the rocky outcrops ahead and Hawke shook her long sword out of it scabbard, charging ahead with the Iron Bull to give the Venatori a head-on charge.
As men were killed or chased off, Hawke's thoughts spun under the relentless sun. She wished short little Magpie would say "papa" just once for her, small hands tugging at her tunic's hem. Falcon she knew would strike with his wooden sword just so. Lark, fast and quick with his daggers. Just like his mother…
Isabela. Merrill. Hawke stood, shielding her eyes with one hand as she peered at the horizon of the desert. The faint outlines of the fortress could be made out as well as shimmering images. Mirages. It had to be. And she was just so blasted hot. But Hawke was certain her mates were there, waiting for her.
'Wishful thinking, Hawke.' The ex-Champion berated herself. The Iron Bull guffawed his victory. The Inquisitor kept pace beside him as they all moved down the rocky expanse of land toward the fortress. Inside, Stroud was waiting at the crumbling and open gates. Hawke blinked the heat out of her gaze again and again after she shook his hand and introduced him to the Inquisitor.
"I'm glad you made it, Inquisitor…I fear they've already started the ritual."
Hawke spoke up. "Blood magic, I'd wager. You can smell it. Or see the corpses. You take point, I'll guard your backs."
As Stroud led the Inquisitor's party into the gates, Hawke stayed behind, eyes scanning the sandy landscape. She looked down as curiosity overtook her. No woman was waiting among the chains of the gates among the stones. Her mates wouldn't know she was here.
But oh, how Hawke wished that were so.
Shouts arose within the fortress behind her and Hawke spun on her heel to race inside. Another battle was already well on its way.
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"Stop following me!" Falcon snapped at his sister. Magpie stopped, child's staff poised and gaped at him in surprise. Her brows pulled taut over her eyes as she frowned.
"Fine!" she snapped, her sole word in the past few hours crisp and annoyed. Falcon tried not to feel guilty, then pressed on into the woods by the sailor's houses. Couldn't a boy just be alone for a minute? It was bad enough his brother sometimes nosed in on his silent moments, asking dumb questions about Papa. No, he had no idea what to do about Papa. She was well and gone and their mothers were still sad and upset.
Falcon looked around the shrubs surrounding the walkways of the sailor's homes. He had re-hidden Papa's helm from Lark yesterday and he couldn't quite recall where it was. He ducked full down in the shrubs when he heard a door down the walkway open. He did not feel like talking with anyone or answering stupid questions so hiding seemed the wiser choice.
Craven. Falcon spied on the massive sailor as he moved off the sand toward the beach. In his large hand was a handful of white flowers. They were of a breed that seemed to grow only on their island and were quite beautiful. Falcon knew Mamae fancied them and his mother kept a bouquet or two in their home. Several times he had espied his papa giving them to either of his mothers and receiving a kiss in return.
Where was he going with the flowers his mothers loved so much? When Craven stopped at the captain's house, Falcon seethed. Craven had Mel, why was he gifting his mother with flowers?! Just because his Papa was gone!... The large sailor left out the back door and Falcon's mind spun with reasons why he'd do THAT. He forgot Papa's helm and stomped up to the house. Inside the main room, he found Lark looking over the ship's massive maps with Mama. A sole white flower was tucked into the top of her bandana and Falcon seethed seeing it.
"Fal, this is where I'll be going next. One of you two will be coming I think…" Isabela said but her words didn't reach his ears. His brother looked at him strangely, but Falcon begged his leave abruptly.
"Sure, Ma! I gotta go….be right back," he said, his words firing like spell shots. Mamae looked at him strangely across the living room but he was already rushing through the kitchen and out the back door. After Craven.
Falcon let the backdoor slam behind him, and his boots touched down on the sand. Craven was on the beach, helping the blacksmith with something or other. Falcon stalked up, his mood preceding him. Craven blinked as the tall boy glared up at him.
"Fal?" he asked. The blacksmith nudged his bandana up on his brow with one wrist and went back to hammering a piece of steel.
Falcon's black bangs hung in his eyes as he glared up. "Stay away from her."
"Who?" Craven felt like he'd wandered into a strange game.
"My mother!" Falcon exploded. His fists clenched and he beat them hard against Craven's stomach. The stolid sailor didn't move. "I saw you give her flowers…. She's not there for you to pick up!"
OH. The whole absurdity of the moment washed over him and Craven almost wanted to laugh. But it wouldn't have helped the pup's mood. He settled a large hand over Falcon's head, petting his hair. The boy's shoulders hunched as he tensed.
"Pup, I didn't give your mother flowers. That bouquet I just had? I gave it to Mel," he admitted. Falcon blinked up at him. Angry tears were in his eyes making Craven feel even more sorry for him. His sire's disappearance was tearing him up in more ways than one.
"She had one when I went in the house! Don't try and fool me!" Falcon bit out. Craven sighed. He patted his large hand on his head again and Falcon had the sudden irrational thought that he could easily crush him. But he didn't move, and Craven didn't harden his grip.
"Your mother did steal one flower out of my bouquet. She does do that," Craven admitted. He gently tilted the boy's face up to him. "But I promise, I do not see the captain in that way. She is the captain."
Falcon let his words wash over him. He seethed there, blinking under the sun and the large hand on his head and closed his eyes.
"Don't you ever," he warned. The sudden flair to defend his parent's relationship and his mother in general washed through him. A sad light filled Craven's eyes. He understood that need to defend but however….
"You'll watch your tone, pup. I'm not after your mother. She's having a hard time of it as it is. Now if you're done accusing me, shall we start jogging in the morning again?" he asked gently. Falcon seethed then bobbed his head in a nod. Craven's hand lifted from his head.
"Good lad. When's your mother wanting to set sail again?"
Falcon shrugged." I didn't get that. I'll ask."
"Well, we're ready to sail when she is," Craven promised. He watched the tall boy amble off, shaken and somewhat humiliated for his assumption. He knew the boy would need time to cool off.
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Another week, another seven days of hard travel. Hawke sighed as she closed the door of her personal room in Skyhold. She kicked off her boots and Angela flopped on the pile of blankets in the corner, panting happily. As she pulled her gloves off, Hawke was startled to notice her hands were shaking. She clasped them together, wishing for the soft touch of her mates. Isabela would tease her but stroke her hands gently. Merrill would kneel by her side and kiss her wrists.
"So, tell me what trouble you ran into this time," Isabela would murmur. Hawke missed her so much her soul ached. Her jests, and smiles. Isabela had once claimed love wasn't for her, but she loved their children. The ease she'd pick up one of the girls and prop them on her hip belied her words from years ago.
"Maybe we're done with all this, huh, boy?" Hawke asked Angela. The mabari lifted his head and panted happily. "I'll get you a leg of lamb, don't you worry…." Angela set his head back down, happy.
Hawke shucked off her over doublet and put on a fresh tunic. She found Varric entertaining soldiers in the makeshift tavern. Just as she was contemplating a seat besdie him, Hawke noticed how enraptured his audience was with the tale he was weaving, fingers gesturing with his words. She couldn't spoil his moment. She sighed and turned to the bartender, asking for ale and a haunch of lamb for her mabari. The man of few words nudged a bowl of stew across the table toward Hawke to take as well.
Varric looked up from his companions who were laughing and smiling to notice Hawke finish her ale and take a rather large leg of lamb to take with her. Probably for her mutt. Angela did have their backs quite often in Kirkwall. That life seemed so long ago. Varric sighed. Sudden guilt of dragging her into all this weighed on his shoulders.
"So what happened next?" one of the female soldiers asked. Varric noticed her beauty and grinned up at the human woman.
"Well, we took care of that band of Venatori. They spring up like so many blades of grass, there's so many….."
As the woman laughed at his words and more questions were flung his way, Varric took a puff on his pipe. Hopefully Hawke could go home soon after they found their way to Corypheus.
End for now
End notes: Like it, don't like it, drop a review. Peace, lovelies.
Pen 11/24/2019