Author's Disclaimer: I don't own a thing belonging to "Dragon Age 2/3." Nothing!
Author's notes: Healing time and Varric gets a surprise. And a mabari gets his mistress back! Any story prompts by CharlieBarrow were made up by her.
"Catching the Wind"
Chapter forty-seven "Crestwood Village"
Hawke came to from unconsciousness to blinding searing pain below her knee, a mouthful of lake water, and cuts and abrasions from Nightmare's pet. Her longer hair clung to her scalp and neck and she struggled against the many arms carrying her into a stone hut, not understanding what was happening to her.
"Easy! Easy! You're injured…." A man said at her left. Her hand reached up and tugged at his long beard abruptly, searching for clarity that this was reality, this was really here and not a vision….
The yelp he gave convinced her and her hand was taken down by a woman at her side. She smoothed her wet hair off her brow and tried to give a comforting smile.
"I wish you'd stayed asleep. Here, bite down on this, you'll need to…" she said, offering a wooden spoon to Hawke's lips. She stared at her stupidly, then the commotion at her lower half had her full attention. Prodding at the protruding bone and damaged flesh of where her right lower leg used to be screamed pain through her and Hawke screeched in surprise.
"What the!"…. she cursed. The woman scolded her, and Hawke took the spoon between her teeth. An old woman was mixing herbs hastily with a mortar and pestle and an old man was heating brands on the hearth. When he retracted one, the tip glowed red and waiting.
"We need to staunch your wound. Hold on…" The woman said beside Hawke and her fingers scrambled for purchase beneath her as the old woman helped…do something with her damaged flesh. Then the old man was at her side and the brand was touched against the open and damaged tissue. The pain blacked out Hawke's vision and she almost crunched the wooden spoon in half. She spat it out, moaning as her vision came back slowly. Her chest rose and fell hard with each inhale and exhale.
The woman at her side clutched her hand, squeezing her fingers. "Well, see, that's the worst of it!"
The old woman grunted, cutting something away below her kneecap. She tossed whatever it was into a bucket beside her and reached for a sewing needle. She held it over a candle, cauterizing the edge, then went to work. Hawke rode a wave of nausea, then it released, and she turned her head, vomiting abruptly. The pain seared through her and she could only ride its unwelcome embrace. The woman didn't flinch, even though some of it had gotten on her skirt. She got a few towels and mopped up the mess, then cleaned Hawke's mouth with a clean rag.
"There, see, it's gonna be alright," she insisted. Hawke stared at her, seeing Isabela, seeing Merrill. Oh, how she wished they were there!
"Bela…" she said miserably and collapsed. The man grunted as he helped the old woman clean the edges of the cauterized flesh.
"Better she be out," she said wisely. "Help me bandage this…"
"Aye," The old man said.
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Hawke woke to damp cloths being rubbed over her body and she sat up abruptly. Or tried to until she jostled her stump. The searing pain that caused put her on her back seeing stars.
"Easy there! How'd this happen?" One of the women cleaning her asked. She wrung her rag into a bucket and sopped up more soap onto Hawke's belly. Her clothing had been removed and she was naked on the bed. The precariousness put a pang through her that wasn't pain and Hawke gladly took it until she recognized it for lust. She shifted suddenly and grunted as her erection pushed up between her legs. The women smiled to themselves, but no one made any obscene gestures or acknowledged it. Hawke tugged one of the washcloths closer and draped it over her member. The coolness of the rag dampened her ardor and she sighed.
"What are you…..where am I?" she gasped. One of the women urged her to sit up and lean against her so as not to jostle her stump. Hawke stared at the bandage covering her right knee and leaned against the woman's embrace.
"Crestwood Village. Lean on me, let's see if we can't wash your hair now that you're awake," she said behind her. Hawke leaned on her elbows and let her untangle the long ends of her dirty hair. Fingers raked over her scalp and dirt sloughed off. Hawke groaned. How long WAS she in the Fade? "What's all this about? You get lost in the wilderness?"
Hawke grunted as her left leg was rubbed down and scrubbed. She tried to lift her hips to help, then collapsed back. The woman helped her lay down. "Something like that…."
"And what caused this? A wolf?"
"Big wolf," Hawke agreed.
"Here, let's get this soap off…" The women worked efficiently and soon Hawke was rinsed with wet rags and rubbed dry. The women avoided touching her bandage and Hawke swallowed hard looking down at it. She could swear she could still feel her missing leg, twitch her toes….but there was nothing there. The sudden reality of the situation surged through her mind and crushed her with its weight. How was she going to walk, how was she going to move? How was she going to face her mates and family like this?!
Tears filled Hawke's eyes and she scrubbed her wrist against them, seething.
"Oh no, it's not so bad. I wish I knew how a wolf chased you into the lake, but we'll help you heal up…."
"It's not that," Hawke wept, unashamed but perturbed about her emotional outburst in front of strangers.
Some of the younger women exchanged glances as they cleaned up. They'd had many family members who'd gone off to battle and come back changed. "Have you a family? They'll still care you're here, in one piece as it were. Come on, young alpha, don't be like that…"
Their words were kind, but the reminder of her family made Hawke's stomach want to fall open. She tugged at a blanket beside her, tugging it over her naked body and cried beneath it. How were they going to want her back like this? She wasn't even sure she'd be able to handle it as it were…..
"Okay, let us dry you off first…."
Hawke sighed as the blanket was lifted and the women efficiently dried her off with large towels. They smelled faintly of mint for some reason and it brought a sense of comfort. But Hawke's heart was so sick she couldn't relax.
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"Lord Tethras!"
Varric chewed on the stem of his pipe then turned toward the elven scout catching up with him.
"What is it, lass?"
"There's been a straggler found at Crestwood Village. I think you're gonna want to see her…" she said. Varric raised an eyebrow but he quashed hope before it could bloom. Hawke was dead. There was no getting his hopes up.
"Alright, we're close enough as it is. Let's move out." The troop of scouts with the elf went with Varric, trudging through tall grass and beneath green trees. A hooded dwarf met the troop on their way in and Varric gave a wide grin at the woman.
"Well, this is a welcome sight," he teased. Bianca pushed her hood up and gave her ex-lover a wry smile.
"Oh, stop your teasing," she said but there was a smile on her lips.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Varric asked. Bianca pushed at the waist-high grass beside him.
"Heard you and the Inquisition were close. What's your business at Crestwood village?"
"Passing through. Heard about a refugee I want to look at."
Bianca studied Varric's profile as they walked. "I don't know if it's your friend, but you can't pin all your hopes on that."
Varric swallowed. He nodded. "I know…."
"Well then, let's go ahead and…"
A mabari erupting into the doorway of one of the village's huts stopped the dwarf's progression and they jumped back. Then Varric got a good look and gave a short laugh.
"Easy, Angela, it's me!" He took his gloves off and reached out so Angela could sniff his palms. The mabari's tail wagged widely and Varric grunted, trying to shove him back and keep from leaping up on him. He'd knock him down with his weight as it were. So, the mabari had decided to go inside. That was good…..As to why, Varric got his answer once he was let into the hut.
There in a bed, right knee bandaged heavily, and her hair longer than he'd ever seen it, was Hawke. She was dressed in a clean night shirt and was picking at a bowl of stew with a spoon. Her lower lip hung open in surprise and the spoon clattered into the bowl in her lap.
"Hawke?!"
"It's me…"
Hawke juggled the bowl onto a bedside table and clasped Varric's hand as he knelt beside the mattress. They squeezed fingers tightly and Varric wanted to hug her. But her leg…..
"What happened!" he breathed. Her injury was absolute; there just wasn't any leg beyond her right knee. It'd been sheared clear off. He swallowed, belittling fate for crippling his friend so. Angela rushed past his hip and moved to climb onto the bed. One of the village women made a sound of distress and helped pull the mabari off from jostling Hawke's stump. She winced as she leaned against her stack of pillows.
"You don't wanna know."
"Oh, I might," Varric drawled. "Readers always want to hear of the hero returned. Two years being long enough."
Hawke gaped at the dwarf. "Two years! It's been two years I was in there?!"
Varric regarded her, concern in his gaze. Hawke was cleaned up and her longer hair had been washed, but the missing limb and the odd shaking of her hands, not to mention the somewhat vacuous stare that glazed her eyes at odd intervals, told him she'd suffered a lot. And reality was crashing in on her.
"Aye, that's right. I'm so sorry you were there that long, Hawke."
Hawke held one hand up. "Please, enough of that talk…."
"Well I should send letters as fast as they'll travel….."
"Be that as it may, I have to get home…."
Varric's eyes glazed with concern. "Aye, and quickly. Your mate met me at Skyhold…I'm sorry, I thought you were dead and told her so."
Hawke's eyes filled with tears. "Isabela?" At Varric's nod, she made to push off the bed but the village women, two of them, pushed at her shoulders.
"Stay down! You're not fit to move yet."
"I have to go!" Hawke insisted. "Bring me my clothes, I'll crawl if I have to…"
"At least let them make arrangements for you, Hawke. What do you want me to tell the Inquisitor?"
"Tell her I'm done. I'm going home," Hawke declared. Varric clasped her hand in his tightly.
"You've done more than enough. And Corypheus is dead. You can rest assured it's finished."
Hawke didn't even think to ask. But the news that the ancient evil her father had failed to keep trapped was finally dead was a massive relief. Her limbs turned to jelly, and she sank back into the bed. One of the village women hovered over her, huffing.
"Eat your stew, Messere."
Hawke accepted the bowl but ran the spoon through the chunks of meat and vegetables as if expecting to find a cruel surprise. It surprised Varric to see her unease over something like food. She inclined her head to the female dwarf at her friend's side. Her familiarity with Varric was noticeable and he acted around her as if he'd known her for years. "Who's your friend?"
"Aw, well, this is…."
"Bianca. Pleasure," the female dwarf said, offering her gloved hand. Hawke shook it, then raised an eyebrow at Varric who was blushing.
"Bianca? This is her?" she asked. Bianca grinned at her uncomfortable ex-lover.
"Yeah well…."
"Take a good look. I'll be gone again soon," she said cheekily.
Varric crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, until you need to get away from the guild for some fun."
"And that'll be soon enough," Bianca agreed. Hawke gave a rueful look to her friend. Well, one mystery solved.
"Great to finally meet you," Hawke said. Bianca grinned.
"Likewise. Believe me, Varric talks about you a lot."
"It was a very interesting span of years in Kirkwall," Hawke agreed.
"Please, just take care of yourself," Bianca urged. "Varric will feel guilty if you don't recover."
Hawke was assuaged by the look on her friend's face. She clapped him on the shoulder. "All will be well soon, I hope. As long as I can get back home."
"Go home," Varric urged. "Isabela was inconsolable. Oh, I'll have to leave a letter for those Grey Wardens too…."
"Bethany was told I was dead?" Hawke was starting to get a headache. "Maker, please let her know I'm okay…."
"I will," Varric assured. "I wish they would let her see you on personal time…"
Hawke nodded, her mind whirling. She had to get better, she had to get moving…. Bianca also noticed the dread that filled her gaze as she picked up the bowl at her side.
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Merrill sat opposite Isabela in the large copper tub they filled up in the kitchen. The pups were out and about, and the twins were watching the girls on the beach. It was nearing evening and while dinner was on the stove, Isabela opted for a bath. They needed alone time before the pups got theirs later.
Her hands on Merrill's body were a welcome respite and the elf leaned into her embrace as they soaped up. Now they soaked, regarding each other thoughtfully as their legs touched in the middle of the tub.
"I was going to ask you, Kitten…." Isabela's hand ran up her shin from where she could reach. "I know my hand's good enough in some cases, but I know you miss Hawke too…."
Merrill swallowed. She regarded the pirate with wide sad eyes. "I do. It's strange, and I didn't know if I should bring it up but…"
"But what?"
"Is your mark still alive? Doesn't it feel….like something's there?" Merrill's fingers lingered on the teeth imprints on her throat. She shivered at the touch. "When a mate dies, the mark fades. But it's still there…."
Isabela touched the side of her throat, where Hawke had bitten her from behind. The imprint was as fresh as when Hawke had given it. "Now that you mention it…. I just thought it was my feelings keeping it there. I didn't know if I should say anything…."
Merrill gave her a shy look. "Did you ever think…of our being there for each other? And adding on…."
Isabela got what Merrill was referring to in her own shy way. She splashed water at her playfully. "Why, Kitten, you really are the one with deeper thoughts. You want me to be your mate?"
Merrill nodded.
"We shared Hawke. I think you love me as well as you loved her. And I do love you, Isabela." The blush on Merrill's face was bright. "If were going to survive losing Hawke, I think she'd want us to hold onto each other."
Isabela brooded. The first year after receiving the news had been the worse one in her life. The pups having birthdays without their sire was hard on everyone. The pirates on the island helped them celebrate but the shadow of their missing father loomed overhead. Sleep had been hard for her for months. Only by falling into Merrill's arms could she relax even abit. And Isabela knew Merrill couldn't sleep without her during this time. The second year was scary how normal it was to not have Hawke there. It was depressing.
"If Hawke's mark won't disappear….I think we can add onto it," Isabela agreed. The smile that lit up Merrill's face filled her with peace. "You're good and stuck with me now, Kitten."
"The pups helped keep me stuck," Merrill agreed. "And carrying Mags."
"Aye, Hawke knows how to make people well and truly stuck," Isabela lamented. But her memories of her mate made it a fond statement. Oh, she was still angry Hawke had gone and died, and stupidly in her opinion. But at least she had a family to lean on. They needed her, and Merrill. "Shall I wash your hair, Kitten?"
Merrill leaned up and the water cascading off her breasts gave Isabela pause. She turned the elf around and kissed the back of her shoulder as she scraped shampoo into her hair. Merrill giggled at the attention.
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Hawke forced another forkful of meat into her mouth. It was braised chicken, hot and steaming and smelling of herbs. But her stomach still roiled and threatened to retch up the mouthful she'd swallowed. She hooked up a forkful of squash with the chicken and shoved it into her mouth, forcing herself to chew. One of the village women was hovering over her meal. She'd barely eaten her stew the day before and they'd noticed.
Hawke swallowed, then covered her mouth with her wrist. She could feel the bile fighting up her throat and she forced herself to keep it down. She couldn't keep getting sick. She was getting proper food. No more rotten meat, no more ends of slimy vegetables, no more dirt in water…. In fact, Hawke hadn't liked the sips of clear well water she'd been given, almost hunting for the dirt in the glass to complete the flavor she'd grown used to.
"When are you planning to leave, Messere Hawke?" one of the village women asked, cleaning up her family's dishes nearby. Hawke swallowed hard. Her stomach hurt from the bile swimming in it.
"As soon as I can."
"Can I cut your hair then? You'll want to look your best for your family."
Hawke swallowed hard. "I'd be grateful."
As she took her plate, frowning over how little Hawke had eaten, she gathered her scissors and a towel to drape over Hawke's shoulders. Hawke closed her eyes as she sat up, leaning on her good thigh. The snip of the scissors was comforting almost and the fingers through her hair put warmth through her. She couldn't wait to be in her mate's embraces again, feel their fingers scraping her scalp and holding her close.
Isabela thought she was dead. She'd have told Merrill. Her pups thought she was dead, for two years now. Hawke swallowed. She'd have to travel as fast as she could. Aiming a glare at her knee bandage, Hawke sighed. How fast was she going to be able to move? Or at all?
"Don't worry, young alpha." The woman finished cutting and combed her shorter hair back. "It doesn't matter how long you've been gone. Your family will be glad you're back."
"I hope…" Hawke murmured. She rested her chin on her upturned left knee. She closed her eyes. Angela pushed against her wrist, giving a low rumble. Hawke buried her face in his neck.
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It should have been a normal day.
Isabela worked on her liquor distillery with the pirates and sampled a new batch of rum. It was very good, and she gave Merrill a cup to share. The sun was high overhead and there wasn't one cloud in the sky. A perfect warm day and the twins were running with the girls in the low incoming surf, kicking up the water as they went. At least today was a good day for them.
"Is it sweet enough, Cap'n?" one of the betas asked, taking back the wooden spoon. Isabela nodded, cuffing his shoulder.
"It's good. Let's make another batch." The man nodded at her request. Her island had been home to another ship and its crew the past few weeks, and they'd made a few runs to neighboring coasts for supplies for them. New men and women on their crew drifted to and from and it wasn't anything Isabela minded. Their ship was supplying her home with needs and they gave room and board in a string of huts if they didn't want to camp on the beach.
Their captain was approaching now, a handicapped fellow by her side. Poor thing, the woman was leaning heavily on a crutch, using it for a limb as she was missing her right leg. She must have been involved with one of the battles erupting around that blasted Inquisition. Last Isabela heard, the heads of Thedas had tried to disband them. But Inquisitor Cadash had declared her organization a peacekeeping force hellbent on being newly crowned Divine Victoria's honor guard.
Well, that was one way to keep one's clout and power. Isabela didn't bear the dwarf any ill will, but her forces HAD called for Hawke's help one way or another…. Isabela sighed to herself, shielding her eyes with one hand against the sun.
"What's this now? New sailor?" she muttered. The beta hammered in a cork into a barrel beside her and shrugged. A mabari was at the newcomer's side, oddly enough. Isabela quirked an eyebrow at that.
"Maybe their captain offered to help carry refugees for passage?"
"Guess so," Isabela muttered. Merrill moved up beside her and the two women went to greet the fellow captain. The woman at her side toiled int the sand with her crutch, sweat visibly standing in open droplets on her brow in her concentration to stay upright. Then the sun was out of Isabela's eyes and she blanched, staring at a ghost.
"Hawke," she whispered. Merrill's fingers tightened on her arm hard enough to bruise. The sharp intake of breath beside her told her she wasn't imagining things. Falcon and Lark charged up behind them, girls in tow. The boys froze, staring at each uncertainly.
"Bela….Merrill… I'm back." The smile that spread across Hawke's scarred face was hopeful, bright with a hint of her old vitality. Her tunic was clean and neatly pressed, and the right leg of her trousers was pinned at the knee. The pups were jabbering excitedly. But Isabela moved forward, and before she knew what she was doing, her fist struck her mate across the face.
She fell, surprise and shock all over her features and just like that, Isabela noticed her injury, the crutch she had been leaning on and the complete loss of her right lower leg. Her first instinct was to rush to help. The pups rushed past her, Magpie kneeling beside her sire, her eyes wide. But then she placed her hand on her hip, glaring at her fallen mate.
"You're back now?! Where were you?" All of the fury she'd felt in the past few years bubbled over and shot at Hawke like arrows. And her mate lowered her head, shame on her face.
End for now
End notes: Yowch. Leave a review.
Pen 3/29/2020