When the two apostates announced their intent to marry it was met with mixed reactions from their companions; however Verric's had been the most surprising. He had smiled and congratulated the couple but became reserved and thoughtful afterward; most dismissed his distance as nothing more than a foul mood. So when the group spied a drunken Chantry sister in one of Jader's many taverns no one anticipated his wide grin or rash action.
"I have an idea. Just play along." Varric strode up to the drunken cleric who was distracted by her inability to remain standing. To Marian's surprise the dwarf knelt, as if he were addressing the Divine herself, and spoke meekly, "Excuse me Your Grace? Might a lowly refugee trouble you for a moment?"
She smiled brightly at his apparent reverence and attempted to usher him to his feet, wine spilling over the edge of her glass. "I am but a servant of the Maker! Please rise my dwarven friend. What can I do for you?" The Orlesian woman's thick accent, combined with the slurring of her words, made her difficult to understand.
"I'm so sorry to impose upon you Your Grace but I'm in need of your help-"
"Of course you are you poor confused dwarf! Salvation cannot come from worshiping your ancestors! It must come from the light of the Maker! Andraste, the bride of the Maker, shows us-"
Merrill was hard pressed to suppress her giggle and was pleased to see that both Isabella and Marian were having the same amount of difficulty. When Varric hung his head and let out a phony sob the three women were forced to turn from the sight and laugh quietly amongst themselves.
The cleric stopped her rambling at the sound of his sobs and looked down, clearly concerned. "What is wrong my tiny friend?" she asked sincerely as she drained what wine remained in her glass.
Varric wiped away his false tears and gestured toward Anders, whose eyes widened with surprise. "The matter concerns my son."
Even inebriated the cleric raised an eyebrow. "Son?"
"Yes. I raised him as my own after his mother and father were murdered by… sacrilegious bandits."
"Oh! Par le Créateur! That is horrible!" The woman began to bow to the dwarf but stopped herself so that she would not fall to the floor. "You are honorable Messare! What can I do for your son?"
"My boy Anders has traveled far, all the way from Denerim, to marry his love in the glorious city of Val Royeaux. It was his mother's dying wish that he be wed in the Grand Cathedral blessed by the light of Andraste." Anders took Marian's hand in his own and tugged her forward, grateful she had managed to quell her laughter.
The cleric smiled brilliantly at them and raised her empty glass. "Ah young love! So beautiful!"
Varric choked out another false sob. "Yes Your Grace. But I fear we will not make it to Val Royeaux. Young Marian has been poisoned by her jealous lover and has only days to live. We had hoped that you would marry them before her time is gone." The dwarf hung his head in shameless false weeping.
It took all of the young couple's restraint not to follow Isabella and Merrill as they vanished through the tavern doors, laughter following them. The grief stricken cleric stumbled past Varric and draped heavy arms around the two lovers, tears streaming down her face.
"Such bravery! Such sorrowful fate! Of course I will wed you mes cheris!"
Varric rose from where he knelt on the ground and grasped the drunken woman's hands gratefully. "Oh thank you Your Grace! I am in your debt!" He ordered another round for the cleric before dismissing himself and his companions.
As they left the tavern Hawke slapped Varric's shoulder none too gently. "Ow! What was that for?"
"Was that truly necessary?"
"Come on Hawke! Orlesians can't resist romantic tales, especially when they end in tragedy."
Fenris spoke from behind the group. "I take it the tale of two apostates doomed to a life of vagrancy was not tragic enough?"
"No, not nearly tragic enough."
Merrill leapt through the group to wrap her arms around Hawke's neck as she bounced up and down excitedly. "I can't believe you're really going to do it! You're really getting married! Hawke, you will need a dress! I don't think I've ever seen you wear a dress. I mean, you wear robes of course but I don't think it's the same thing." Marian shared a happy grin with Anders before the small elf and Rivaini pirate began pushing her toward the docks. Isabella turned to the three men.
"Fenris, go fetch Lady Manhands and tell the boys about our plan. I'll need Aveline in my quarters right away. Varric, wait here for our drunken Chantry sister. And you," she pointed at Anders, eyes narrowing, "had better be presentable when you come back to my ship."
Anders fidgeted in place, sweating despite the cool night air. In his entire life he had never seriously considered the possibility of marriage. Even though he had agreed to the arrangement with Marian on their short sea voyage it had seemed like a fantasy. But as he waited for his bride Anders felt the reality begin to settle on his shoulders. He was going to wed Marian Hawke.
"Hold still Blondie. Andraste's tits you're making ME edgy," Varric rebuked him with a grin. Anders returned the smirk and struggled to compose himself. The dwarf took in his friend's appearance and hoped he had cleaned up the mage sufficiently.
As Varric had awaited their dear Sister Garcelle he had assisted Anders' preparations. The mage had washed his tangled locks and re-secured them into his usual half ponytail. His black coat, which had retained the rips and bloodstains of battle, was washed and mended by one of the serving girls who had heard the lover's tragic story. She had also been kind enough to replace his ragged under tunic and dilapidated trousers with new linen garments. Varric had insisted on paying the girl but she had refused, smiled sadly at Anders and wished him happiness with his bride before she burst into tears. This had earned the dwarf a stern glare from his friend.
Now the mage ran his hands down his newly cleaned coat and fidgeted nervously as the door to the captain's cabin opened. Varric nudged Anders gently to bring him to stillness.
Sister Garcelle walked the length of the ship first, her glassy eyes set atop rosy cheeks and a contented smile; Varric could easily see that Isabella had continued to provide wine to their sympathetic friend. Anders and Varric waited patiently as the inebriated sister made her way to the front of the ship. When she had reached her place Aveline and Donnic began walking the aisle toward the bow, both of them grinning shyly. Anders couldn't help but smile as he remembered being in a similar position with Hawke at the former guard captain's wedding. Both of the warriors had cleaned and polished their armor, causing it to gleam in the starlight.
Captain Isabella appeared next on the arm of her first mate. She wore a dark red dress that hugged every curve and left very little to the imagination, explaining why her companion appeared as if he were caught in a bear trap rather than on the arm of a beautiful woman. A thin sheen of sweat dotted the poor fool's brow as he released his escort and took his place next to Varric, nodding at the dwarf and sighing in relief.
Next came Fenris and Merrill, which caused Anders to smirk. He could not imagine what manner of coercion had caused the brooding elf to make this walk with the bubbly blood mage but it was certainly a spectacle. Fenris, his usual armor remarkably clean, marched with an iron spine and eyes locked forward. But Merrill seemed oblivious to his stoicism. The light green linen dress complimented her bright eyes as she smiled and half skipped next to Fenris. Before she moved away from the men to join Isabella and Aveline the petite elf planted a light kiss on Anders cheek. Her fellow mage blinked in surprise when the elf hugged him lightly and whispered, "You be good to her," before prancing away.
Anders frowned at Merrill for half a moment before Varric nudged him again, this time insistently. Everything else fell away when his gaze fell on Marian standing next to Carver. Their eyes met briefly, causing her to blush and look away as if embarrassed. Slowly brother and sister began their walk. Marian's raven locks were twisted back from her face, seemingly held in place with small white flowers Anders had seen growing along the shore. The flowers complimented the white dress she wore, a simple kirtle accented by strips of lace along the bodice.
As the pair reached their destination Carver gave Anders a seething glare. The young Warden gently placed his sister's hands in the mage's and he glowered, "You had better take care of her or so help me-"
"Carver!" Marian whispered angrily.
Her brother's scowl was replaced by a sad smile as he turned and kissed her forehead gently. "I love you Sister," he whispered as he slowly moved to take his place with Varric, Fenris, and Donnic.
Sister Garcelle sniffled through tears as she swayed on her feet. "Ah, sweet love. 'Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the…" The woman continued slurring through the Canticle of Benedictions but neither mage standing before her heard, nor did they care. Anders and Marian knew nothing beyond the depth of the other's eyes and the warmth of each other's hands. The ceremony continued to pass in a haze. At one point Garcelle asked Anders to love the woman in front of him until his dying breath, a fate he had resigned himself to long ago. When the Sister repeated the words to Marian she readily agreed. Rings were exchanged, something Anders distantly found odd since they had not thought to acquire rings, and the final words were spoken: "In the name of the Maker and his bride Andraste I pronounce you man and wife."
The smile that lit Marian's face was brilliant as he pulled her close for a kiss. When their lips met Anders felt unmatched happiness bloom in chest and he pulled her closer, reveling in the feeling of her against him and the joy in her laughter. In that moment two lives, both plagued by despair and loss, were purged of all sorrow.