Epilogue
"I would like to be the first to propose this toast, if nobody objects," Varric raised his goblet. It was heavy, solid gold and crusted with rubies that rivaled the rich wine inside. "To Garret Hawke, Viscount of Kirkwall!"
All but one of those gathered lifted their goblet. All but one echoed his praise.
"Thank you, thank you all," Hawke bowed and beamed. He was standing at the head of a long banquet table littered with delicacies, everything from pastries to mousses, from fresh fruits to platters of oysters and shellfish, imported beef from Ferelden and imported chocolates from Orlais. There was also a whole side table covered with various bottles of wine and spirits, already opened and available for the sampling.
Hawke himself was reveling in his newfound riches and glory, leaving off his mage's cloak and wearing instead a doublet of the finest damask, lined with lamb's wool, opened just far enough to show off his silk tunic underneath. His beard was as neatly trimmed as always and his hair as artfully mussed as always—some things about him would never change.
He cleared his throat and took out a folded piece of parchment from an inside breast pocket. "Thank you for coming to this private affair to celebrate my coronation, separate from the rabble out there," he thumbed over his shoulder, indicating the masses gathered outside the door in the main part of the Keep. There were noblemen and common citizens, merchants and ambassadors, all there to feast and celebrate Hawke's ascension to the throne of Kirkwall, but he had arranged for this more intimate banquet to celebrate with his closest friends. "I'd like to take this opportunity to say a few words…"
"Keep it short, Hawke," Varric hummed quietly from his right elbow.
"Erm, right," he refolded the parchment, seeing the dangerous and warning look on the dwarf's face. "Suppose I save this speech for later, when I have to go back out there. But to all of you," he looked around the room, Varric by his right side, Sebastian standing just beyond him, followed by Merril. Aveline and Donnic were on his left, Isabela just beyond them, and then Fenris. Hrodwynn was there, at Fenris' other side, her goblet on the table in front of her. Hawke tried not to look at her—every time they made eye contact left him feeling as if there was a dagger poised to slide in between his shoulder blades. He cleared his throat and finished, "It's been a helluva ride, hasn't it?"
"That it has," Aveline agreed, and most everyone else nodded.
"Well," Varric was the first to break the stand-off, going right up to the table and picking up a small wafer piled with beef tartar, "Now that the niceties are out of the way, let's eat."
"Ooo, I'm glad you said that," Merril chirped, "I've had my eye on that mousse ever since we walked into the room."
"Help yourself," Hawke gestured, though everybody had already started to attack the feast. Everybody but Hrodwynn, of course. Hawke tried to ignore her, and avoid her, as he meandered about the table, sampling a fair bit of the fare himself.
He managed to sidle up beside Fenris while Hrodwynn was off talking with Sebastian. "So… how are… things…?"
"Just spit it out, Hawke," Fenris growled, but it was a pleasant sounding growl. "What do you want?"
"I was only wondering how Hrodwynn's doing?"
"She hasn't forgiven you, if that's what you're asking." The elf took a sip of his wine.
He wasn't partaking much of the feast, and Hawke thought he knew why. He had seen the two of them, when they first arrived, each carrying a pack but trying to be inconspicuous about it, stashing them discreetly by the door. He decided, however, that this wasn't the time to bring up the inevitable departure. "That wasn't what I was asking," he picked at some sort of Orlesian dessert-like pastry, "But I figured as much. No, I mean about her, erm, state of mind." He had to lick powdery sugar from his mustache, but the bite was tasty enough he reached for a second.
Fenris sighed. He watched her closely, every moment of every day it seemed, even now as she laughed at some joke Donnic made. "She's… stable, for the most part," he allowed. "There are times when she seems not quite herself, or gets confused about something, like exactly at what point in time did one of our little adventures happen. And she's obsessively angry with you; that part hasn't diminished in the slightest."
"So you're saying I should keep my distance and not make eye contact? Good to know." Hawke picked up a wafer of the tartar next. "Is that why you're leaving Kirkwall, to get her away from me?" At Fenris' shocked look, he added, "I saw your packs by the door."
"Ah, well, in part," he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Mostly, I think a change will do her good. Kirkwall holds too many memories for her, for Hrodwynn and Maeve, so a fresh start, someplace new for both of us, seemed like a good idea. She agreed."
Hawke clapped him on the shoulder, "I wish you only the best, my friend. And should you ever need it, I would gladly come to your assistance. Viscount or no."
"Um, thanks, Hawke, but I think you're one of the things Hrodwynn and I need to leave behind."
"I had to make the offer," he winked.
"So, Rivaini," Varric asked, "What are you plans, now that it looks like things are going to be settling down for a bit?"
"Hmm," she finished the sip of her wine and reached for a chocolate as she answered, "Like you just said, things are settling down here. No offense, Hawke, but economic stability coupled with strong leadership is a death knell to a pirate. And that's exactly where Kirkwall is headed! No, I think it's time for me to move along. Besides, I've got that new ship and fresh crew that need breaking in."
Hawke chuckled, "No offense taken, Isabela. I only hope I can live up to all the expectations. Becoming a viscount was never in my plans; I've no idea where to start."
"No worries, Hawke," Varric grinned up at him, "I've got you covered there. First, we need to talk business, the trade business, you know, merchants and the like…"
"First, we need to talk about the City Guard," Aveline broke in, "And the mess left over at the Gallows. That Captain over there, Cullen I think it was, is trying to fill the role of Knight-Commander, but he's going to need help and support from the Viscount to do so."
"Please, Aveline, Varric, that's business, we'll discuss it later. Right now, it's pleasure. Let's not mix the two, shall we?"
Varric chuckled but conceded the point. "Alright, how about you, Merril? Any plans?"
"Me? Oh, no, nothing special, I mean," she spoke around a mouthful of the mousse she had been coveting. Swallowing quickly, choking a bit, and having to take a sip, she did manage to answer at last, "I'll be sticking around, like you and Aveline and Hawke. But down in the Alienage. They need me there, and ever since my clan… well… they don't need me. But the city elves do. I can help them. A lot. And," she shrugged, at a loss to explain it, "Helping them gives me a good feeling, about myself."
"They're lucky to have you," Hrodwynn smiled, giving the woman a hug. "I know what it's like," she continued in a whisper meant for her ears only, "Finding yourself all on your own, without family, without those you've known and loved all your life. But you've got a family here now, in Aveline and Varric and, erm, Hawke. You'll be fine."
"You're not staying, are you?" Merril asked, loud enough for everyone to hear, pulling back a bit.
Hrodwynn shook her head.
"So those are your packs by the door," Varric pressed. "Yours and Fenris's?"
"They are," she admitted, stepping away from Merril to reach Fenris' side. "We, ah, we're leaving Kirkwall, and we hate long goodbyes, so we thought it would be best to leave straight after the party."
"I still wish you were coming with me," Sebastian groused. "Honestly, Fenris, I need you in Starkhaven. Are you sure you won't change your mind? What if I sweeten the pot? Raise my offer? Promise Hrodwynn she could have immunity no matter whose safe she picks?"
Fenris laughed, seeing the mildly interested glint in Hrodwynn's eyes, but shook his head. "No, Sebastian. Thank you—again—for your generous offer, but Hrodwynn and I need a change, and I don't think going with you to Starkhaven to train an army is quite what we're looking for."
"What are you looking for?" Hawke asked, curious. Besides, it was far safer talking to Fenris than it was talking directly to Hrodwynn.
"Adventure."
Varric snorted. "So like Rivaini, here, the two of you get bored with simple housekeeping. Hey, there's an idea, the Lady Rogue teaming up with the Lady Pirate. What do you think?"
Hrodwynn blushed a little, remembering their reactions when, a few days after the Chantry explosion, she and Fenris had finally emerged from their hideaway and met up with everyone at the Hanged Man to fill them in on her part of the story. Sebastian had been overjoyed that he'd been right all along and that Hrodwynn was Maeve Edmonte. Varric, however, had taken a perverse delight—similar to Fenris' teasing—and insisted on working the term 'lady' somewhere into a title for her. 'Lady Rogue' seemed to be it.
"We've got something in mind…" Fenris hummed.
"Are you going to reclaim your estate?" Sebastian queried, his eyes bright and eager. "It shouldn't be too hard to prove your identity. I could vouch for you," he pressed, taking a few steps closer, "As a Brother and as the Prince of Starkhaven, my word would be above reproach. And the Edmonte estate is large, rich, powerful…"
"And she would be indebted to you, right?" Aveline broke in before he could really get going, "And become your ally? Lend you some of that coin and men and arms for your own use?"
"We're not going to Wycome," Hrodwynn stated clearly and decisively. Her tone alone spoke volumes, even more so than her words. "Varric looked into it for me, and it seems a few years ago my father was declared dead—all of us were—and the estate was taken out of escrow and given to a cousin of father's. This cousin, well," she gave a shrug, a bit unconcerned, "He'd fallen on some hard times, and could barely provide for his family. But with the Edmonte estate, he's doing pretty well for himself. Not as well as my father had, but well enough. And he's a good man. So I think I'll let him keep it. Besides," she looked to Fenris, her love, her life, "What the fuck would I do with all that power and money, anyway? Probably just piss it away in some tavern, or let it rot and dwindle down to nothing while I run off on some adventure. Nope, it's in better hands with my cousin than with me."
"So…" Merril's voice shook only a little bit, "Where are you going? What's this adventure you keep talking about?"
Hrodwynn smiled, though it wasn't so much from mirth as it was from anticipation. "We heard a tale of some Tevinter slavers operating along the border near the Hissing Wastes. Thought we'd have a go at them. It's perfect, really: Fenris gets to use his sword killing slavers, and I get to use my picks unlocking the cages and freeing the would-be slaves."
"Sounds perfect," Isabela agreed.
"And you sound envious," Merril teased. "Still, I'm happy for you both. And… I'll miss you… terribly…"
"Oh, dammit, Merril," Hrodwynn sniffed, one finger wiping at the corner of her eye, "Don't cry! This is exactly why Fenris and I were going to just slip away quietly in all the to-do."
"Well, I'm glad you haven't slipped away yet," Varric tried to distract the two women from their misty eyes, "Because I've got something for you."
"What is it?" Hrodwynn turned to him, thankful as much for the change of topic as she was for a gift.
Varric pulled out a small package from inside his leather duster. "I, ah, took a bit of liberty, I freely admit," he began to explain as he handed the paper-wrapped parcel over. "I've got a, erm, friend who likes challenges. So I wrote a letter, describing your difficulties, even added a drawing or two, to scale I might add, of your hand. This is what my friend sent back."
She hadn't opened the package, preferring to wait through the explanation. Varric, however, didn't give her much in that department, forcing her to ask, "So… what is it?"
"Not sure," he shrugged, "As I didn't open it myself. It's meant for you; you should be the first to open it. But I'm sure it'll be something good."
"Is this the same friend who made Bianca for you?" Hawke wondered, referring to Varric's named crossbow.
"None other. Go on, Button, open it. It won't bite."
Hrodwynn hesitated, she couldn't say why. Perhaps because she sensed, as Fenris no doubt did, that it was time to go and some part of her wanted to stay, wanted to stall, wanted to drag this last moment out for an eternity. But when Merril sniffed again, Hrodwynn knew she had to stop putting this off or she'd be blubbering just as bad. Pulling out a knife, slicing the blade cleanly through the string, she parted the paper to find…
"A glove?"
"Interesting," Varric hummed. "Wasn't sure what it would be, but it makes sense. Put it on. Let's see how it fits."
"You mean, your friend made this, for me, for my hand, to help… what, fix it?" She shook her head. "I don't know how it could…"
"Put it on and find out."
She rankled at the suggestion, coming as it did from Hawke, and almost refused the gift out of spite. But Varric had gotten this for her, not Hawke. Varric's friend had made it, not Hawke's friend. She looked up at the dwarf, not wanting to get her hopes up, though he seemed convinced already that it would solve all her troubles with her crippled hand.
"Allow me."
It was Fenris' prompting that broke her out of her stillness. He picked up the glove, examined it quickly and critically, and held the wrist end open for her. She slipped her hand inside and was surprised to find that it, well, fit her like a glove. It was made mostly of black leather, the base of it wrapping a good two to three inches down her wrist and held fast with leather laces which Fenris secured for her. The palm was reinforced with some sort of ribbing that unbent and stretched out her hand, easing the curve until it assumed a natural shape once more. The fingers, too, were supported, though the tips of the glove had been cut off, leaving the pads of her fingers free to feel. She held it up and stared at it, stared at how normal her hand looked.
She laughed.
Quick as lightning she picked up her formerly untouched goblet and down the contents in one go. The she spun the goblet, heavy as it was, between the fingers of her right hand. It twisted and twirled, the gold and jewels flashing and glittering in the lights, moving so fast it almost seemed as if the goblet was bent or warped somehow. Then with a grand flourish, she threw the goblet in the air and watched it spin three times before catching it on the back of her hand. It was balanced perfectly, the rim of the base at the tip of her fingers, and her hand as steady as a rock.
"It's marvelous!" she cried. "Look, Fenris, I'm whole again."
"So long as you are wearing the glove," he agreed.
She stuck her tongue out at him, "Party pooper. Varric, thank you," she hugged the man, "And thank your 'friend' for me, too. Don't think I didn't notice how you carefully didn't say if this friend was a man or a woman."
"Oh, I bet she's a woman," Merril jumped in, thinking she at long last had something with which she could tease Varric, "Or why else would he be so circumspect?"
"Possibly to toy with us," Aveline opined, "Throw us off the scent. Either way, this is an incredible gift, Varric. Well done."
"Yes, well done," Sebastian added, "And, if you ever tire of Tevinter slavers…"
"Give it a rest, Choir Boy, this is my moment to bask in."
"Bask away, Varric, bask away," Hrodwynn laughed, thankful on so many levels. She was thankful for the friendships, thankful for the offers, thankful for the gift… thankful to have the chance to leave with everyone laughing and spirits high. She kissed Varric's cheek and turned towards the door. Fenris was already there, picking up their packs, handing over hers as he slung his own across a shoulder. "Goodbye."
Her farewell was echoed by everyone, sprinkled with brave smiles and enthusiastic waves. She lifted her gloved hand up in return and, Fenris by her side, walked out the door.
Laughing.
Because Varric's voice floated after them—of course he'd have to get in the last word.
"Be seeing you again, one of these days…"
Author's Final Note: Thank you!
Thank you, everyone!
Thank you for your likes and follows and comments.
Thank you for sticking with me all these years, through dry spells and writer's blocks and personal tragedies and triumphs. Thank you for your inspiration, for reminding me of your presence, for being there each and every time I needed you.
And lastly, thank you, Bugs, for getting me hooked on Dragon Age!
*HUGS TO ALL*
