Sea biscuit: No, Anders and Fenris merely tolerate her and her actions since haven't helped. At all XD
Rosebud1296: Your wish is my command. Moar for you!
Sweetlilsunshine: Sorry about the wait, but I hope this is satisfactory.
Guest: I really, really do need to update. I'm sorry about the wait!
Guest: I've left a message about Untamed Prince on my Bio. Until then, here's a chapter.
Spazmoose: No Isabela in this one. Not a lot of wit either. More depressive shit. Because I'm lovely.
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Chapter 4 – Looking through the bottom of a bottle.
Hawke walked into the Hanged Man. He was concerned to say the least. Ashley, the young woman that they had found fighting and running for her life, hadn't seem to have adjusted. He looked over at the bar, where he knew he would see her. Dressed in her long, black leather coat, and the hooded jacket that she always wore underneath. He sighs silently to himself. She wasn't doing well, that much was certain. She was drinking. That was the problem. Indeed it took a lot, an incredible lot for the woman to get drunk; that's how she seemed to make her money. Betting. People would place bets on how long it would take her to pass out. People seemed to try and drink her under the table. They failed. She had set up an arrangement with Corff at the bar, he did well from the bets. So she basically didn't have to pay for her drinks any more. She had her own room as well, Varric was paying for that. They'd all tried to get her to stop drinking but nothing had worked. Well, Hawke hadn't tried, not yet. But, he didn't like the sight he saw tonight and that dug deep inside his chest. He adjusted his staff on his shoulders and passed her to go up to Varric's quarters. He would attempt to talk sense to her later on that night.
-x-
Well. Fuck this shit. I've been here over a fucking month and nothing. Nada. The closet I get to remembering anything is when I'm pissed and crawling back to my room. Even then, the images are fleeting and make no fucking sense. So here I am, drinking myself to an early grave. Before you start, I really don't want to hear it. I tried. I really did try to make a life. But, you can't make much when you haven't got anything to start with. Turns out simply knowing my name is pretty much the only thing I've got going for me. I can fight... sort of. On instinct anyway. Which isn't any good to anyone. Not even the guards of the city, seeing as I can't hold a sword or bow worth a damn. I have no other skills and I'm not going to become a whore. No fucking way. I don't care what that pirate woman says, she can fuck who she wants and profit from it how she sees fit, but I'm not going to be used like that. So, I'm making do with what I've got. Which seems to be an iron stomach. The whiskey here is like cat's water and does nothing for me, until I've drank a couple of bottles at least. The beer is like horse piss and I don't touch it. As for wine, fuck off. I drink to get drunk, not to savour the flavour of some squashed grape. The whiskey is bearable. Just.
The people that picked me up off my arse tried to get me to stop. I gave them all the finger. I don't tell them how to live their lives. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for them for helping me, getting me out the gutter and I give Varric all the spare money I get, that covers my room at least. But, they're in here getting drunk most the time anyway. Just because I then make money out of it, it's suddenly become a bad thing. I sigh, looking at the amber liquid in my glass. I'm just not feeling it tonight. Normally after about the sixth glass, time passes quickly and before I know it, another day has been and gone. More confusing pictures when I wake up the next day. A puzzle. I don't have the original picture or any of the edged pieces. Instead I have about four hundred bits of the same piece and they all fit together. How's that for a metaphor? Well, it explains my head to a tee, at the moment.
I knock back the glass, pushing it across the bar to be refilled. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't really care. Until something better comes along, this is all I'm going to be doing. I have no fucking purpose. I'm a spare part. And yeah, before someone points it out, I know alcohol is a depressant. I hear the door go and I don't bother turning my head, it's just going to be another patron. I keep my hood up, it saves actually having to make eye contact with people and most leave me alone. Nowadays anyway. After the first few fights they learnt that I wasn't to be disturbed, unless I want to be. From the skittish, scared woman I was when I first woke up, to a depressed alcoholic. Fucking brilliant. What a step up. Well done Ashley you're really doing those who helped you, proud.
'And just like that, you hate yourself,' a voice says beside me. I grunt in reply and pull my glass back towards me. Actually, the guy hit the nail right on the head. I do hate myself at the moment. I look at the person who spoke and see Garrett. Fucking hell time passed without me realising. This must be the fifth or maybe seventh time I've had my glass refilled since he came in. I look at him for longer than needed, I couldn't help it. He's really attractive. Like, incredibly so. I don't see him a lot, he's always working or something. I see the elf more than him, the tension between the elf and myself isn't good. He always looks at me in a way I can't help but think of as; patronising. So naturally, being the piss head I am, I started a fight. Was initially words and then I tried to hit him. I lost, he blocked the punch and tipped me over onto my ass. I apologised since, but things are tense between Snowy and I.
'What do you want?' I say simply as I sip my drink. Hawke chuckles and takes the seat next to me. I stiffen a little but after another sip, relax again.
'A little company. Is that so much to ask for?' He teases. I raise and brow and half smile to myself. Then the alcohol kicks in and I turn bitter.
'Depends. If you want company of a alcoholic. If it's the whore. The whore is out at the moment. The alcoholic is in,' I state simply. He smiles, a sight I catch out my peripherals.
'I'm pretty sure that to be an alcoholic you generally need to be richer and drink better shit than this. I think the term you're looking for is, a drunk. As one myself I agree. The drunks are definitely in,' he says as if he was talking about the weather. A half hearted chuckle leaves my chest. If he had said that a couple more drinks down the line, I would probably would have tried to punch him. 'And, no I need not Isabela's company tonight. Or any night for that matter,' he adds. I nod and simply continue drinking. I don't know why he's talking to me. Or what he wants. No doubt he'll make things clear soon.
After about half an hour of silence I can't bear it any more. 'What do you want?' I repeat. Generally company means conversation, but I'm not much good for that. At all. He smiles and looks at me properly, I make the effort and turn my head to look at him, so this way our eyes meet. I'm happy that I'm already sitting down. His eyes, the warm, chocolate brown is simply gorgeous. I bite my lip without realising.
'I have a suggestion. I think you'll like it,' he says softly motioning to Corff with his hand. I raise a brow lazily. Corff drops a bottle of whiskey on the table and another couple of glasses. Hawke slides a few silvers over the counter, well, tried to. They stuck a little. He picks up the bottle and glasses and grins at me. 'Come on,' he says simply as he gets up. 'Follow me,' he adds.
'Follow you where?' I ask defensively and a little curiously. He simply motions with his head. I growl under my breath and a little rebellious thought pops into my head, telling me to stay. But the curiosity wins and I knock back my drink, getting off the stool, a little wobbly. The room spins for about half a second before righting itself. Garrett waits for me to move over to him before he wanders up the stairs. I frown in annoyance but follow. He leads me to my room, okay buddy. Where the living fuck do you think this is going? I ask myself. But, I'll let it play out. I have a dagger under my pillow that I'm not hesitant to use if things go too far. I open the door and walk in, Hawke nods his thanks and takes the chair that sits near the table, moving it over to the edge of the bed. I shut the door and flop onto the bed, pulling my boots off and crossing my legs underneath me.
'Okay, hood down,' he says as he leans his staff against the wall. I scoff but he seems deadly serious. He's dressed in breeches and a cotton top, something that apparently mages, like him, don't wear. He's always been very casual, I hear.
'Why?' I ask simply to be annoying. I don't want to take my hood down.
'Because I asked. That's why. I'm the one with the whiskey, so if you want some, suck it up and take your hood down. I'll not speak to a faceless person all evening,' he points out as he pours a couple of glasses and puts the bottle by his foot. He has a point. With a great sigh, as if it's a massive effort, I take down my hood. Like he promised he hands me the glass. I nod my thanks, trying to ignore the smile that he sent my way. Unfortunately, in my room it's rather warm, as it's above the kitchen and I can feel myself begin to sweat as I'm dressed in leather and my hooded top. Without making eye contact with him, I put my glass on the floor and take off my coat, throwing to the end of the bed and then unzip my hooded top, putting that on top of it. I'm wearing leather leggings and a blouse, thankfully I haven't sweated through the blouse yet. Hawke raises a brow but doesn't say anything about my sudden stripping. I feel pretty self-conscious but I'm sure my next drink will kick that one out the window.
'So. Why are we in my room?' I ask simply as I take a sip. Hawke laughs lightly, running his hand through his hair as he bites his lip... fucking hell that's a sexy sight.
'Well, Varric wouldn't stop talking if I took you there, and I didn't want to rent a room seeing as you already have one. I can't stand sitting at the bar where anyone can hear what you're saying. Also, what I'm going to suggest is hopefully going to stay between you and me,' he says taking a sip. 'I want you to come into deep roads with me,' he states simply. The blank look on my face must have clued him in. I have no idea what he's talking about. He explains the journey that Varric has planned and where it's going.
'And, you want me? To join you?' I say confused. 'Hawke, mate. I can't handle a weapon. I would be shit. I would be spare luggage. Weight. A hindrance.' I say slowly as if I don't expect him to understand. 'Fucking hell, what good would I be?'
'You could keep me company,' he chuckles. 'Look, I'm not asking you to come so that you're part of the group. I don't expect you to do any fighting or anything like that. But you need something to do otherwise you're going to sit in this pub and drink your life away. I don't like seeing you like this, Ashley,' he says simply. I frown at him. It's just another attempt to intervene.
'So you just want me along to see the sights?' I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. 'No thanks.' I add. Sorry Hawke. I'm not a pity party, as much as I look like one.
'Stop being so damn stubborn.' He says in a slightly harsh tone. 'Look, I have no idea why you're here. Why you can't remember anything. Anders and I have both looked, there's no damage to your head, whatever you can't remember, it's because your mind won't let you. One thing that isn't going to help is alcohol. You keep saying to Varric that you want purpose and something to do in this city. Well, I'm literally giving you something to do and yet you refuse. That's pure laziness.'
'Fuck off!' I snap. 'You have no idea what it's like. Waking up each morning without a fucking clue who you are, or why you're here,' I retort as I gulp back the whisky, 'don't you dare try to lecture me,' I add frowning.
'No. You're right. I don't know. But what I do know is that wallowing in self pity isn't going to help you,' he states calmly. Not rising to her barb. 'I will lecture you. I don't want to see you like this and I don't have to. Not if I can help. And I will help you.'
'I didn't ask for your help!' I cut in. What the fuck is he doing? Trying to be a fucking hero. I don't want his help, I'm doing just fine on my own...
'You didn't ask for my help that night with the slavers,' he says quietly. I look at him, feeling tears prick my eyes. 'I still helped you. I had no idea who you were, or why they wanted you, but that didn't stop me. In my mind, nothing has changed. I still don't know who you are, or why you're here. But I'll help you. Even without you asking.'
I refuse to look at him as I pull my knees up to my chest and wipe my eyes. Fucking arsehole. I was fine until he came along. 'Why? Why help me?' I ask, hating the fact that I can hear my voice breaking a little as I speak.
'Because, I have no doubt in my mind that one day. I'll need help. In fact, I know I will. I always need help. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for my friends. They help me without a second thought. So, I help others when I can't help them. Speak for those who have no voice, shield those who cannot protect themselves. Help those, who cannot help themselves,' he says quietly. I feel myself shaking. I didn't expect this at all. I don't want his help. When really, I don't want to admit that I need his help. I've always been independent. Always. That much I know. Yet, lately all I've done is lean on others and demand more and more help. I sigh and rub my eyes again looking at the empty glass in my hand. Without saying anything Hawke refills it. I raise a brow.
'You don't want me to drink myself to death, yet you pour me another drink?' I say softly.
'There are times and places. Right now, you need one. Tomorrow morning? No, you don't,' he says simply. I smile gratefully at him and sip the whiskey. He watches me carefully as I sigh and lean my head back against the wall. I'm a state. He gets up silently and sits next to me, leaning against the wall as I do.
'I hate you,' I mutter quietly.
Hawke laughs and nods. 'Oh aye. I know. Don't worry about that,' he says chuckling. 'So. Have you made your decision? Bare in mind, that seeing as the journey isn't for another couple of weeks, you have to come with me every day until then. So that I know you're not here, drinking.' He adds. I give him a dirty look, he doesn't trust me. Although, actually. He probably has a good reason not to. I would just drink.
'Even though I can't handle weapons for shit?' I say dryly.
'Oh aye, I know. I'll teach you some things. I can use daggers fairly well. I'll teach you enough to keep you alive,' he says simply. 'Besides, I know how you fight, you'll be fine,' he smirks tapping his nose. I blush and look away, feeling embarrassed about that.
'Fine. I'll go.' I mutter as I hold up my glass. Garrett grins and clinks his glass against mine.
'I'll hold you to this you know,' he says with a light laugh. 'I'll be keeping a very observant eye on you,' he chuckles. I roll my eyes as I look at him and take a sip of my drink.
'I know. But until then, there's whiskey.'
'Aye, for tonight at least,' he says winking at me. 'I knew you'd like the idea.'
Please drop a review if you liked it. Sorry about the shit quality. I know it's a bit boring but it's essential for her character building.