Chapter 5: Tattoos
As Varric suggested, it would take several days for the necessary supplies to be readied for their trip into the Vimmark wastes.
Which meant that they had time on their hands, which meant there was a chance that the carta might take another shot at either of the brothers, Garrett actually hoped that they would, he would have preferred to have a prisoner to interrogate before they left for the carta's base? Carver was not overly concerned either, he had survived the deep roads, a pack of tainted dwarves did not frighten him.
Of course no such attack happened, which only made Garrett more nervous, more and more this was looking like the carta were baiting them.
He had no desire to walk into a trap.
With the estate in shambles, Hawke moved Mother into one of the finest inns in Hightown. He offered to put Carver and his fellows up there as well, but none of the wardens seemed pleased with that idea.
Arika had no desire to stay around so many sneering nobles, and Lin still worried that bounty hunters might notice her from her bandit days.
In the end the wardens settled into rooms at the Hanged Man. Leandra did not entirely like that her youngest was staying in such a place, but she understood making sacrifices for the one you love.
In truth, she liked the blonde Navarran girl, she was strong, and it was clear that she would fight to the death if needs be to protect Carver. She wasn't the girl that Leandra would have chosen to be with her son, but the heart wanted what it wanted.
Carver lived a difficult life now; he needed someone who could defend herself.
Hawke spent the next several days buying the necessary supplies for their trip. He might have been wrong, but he thought he had picked up an extra shadow.
Every time he was out in the markets he caught sight of a hooded elven woman with a longbow on her back.
It seemed that Carver had assigned him a bodyguard whether he wanted one or not.
Not that he minded Lin's presence, the elf was actually quite discreet, and if he wanted privacy all he had to do was ask for Fenris to accompany him, and the girl would disappear.
That made the apostate chuckle.
"I think Carver's elven friend likes you," he told Fenris.
Fenris shrugged, "I hadn't noticed."
"Oh come on Fenris," Hawke said dryly, "You are not even intrigued by the offer?"
The elf did not turn, but he did snort, he still saw himself as a slave. He did not see the affect he had on women.
"Why would a warden be interested in me?" the elf replied blandly.
Hawke almost laughed, he was surprised that Fenris had not noticed the looks that the elven women in both Hightown and the Alienage gave him, not to mention the looks more than a few noble girls shot him when they saw him out with Hawke.
Many a noble daughter in Hightown asked him if Fenris's markings went all the way down.
Hawke could not give them an answer to that question, his door did not swing that way.
Besides, the apostate would not advise those kinds of liaisons, noble girls got bored so easily, which was why he stuck to his…well…his dealings with Isabela.
Not that they had had many dealings lately.
Garrett frowned; he was starting to wonder if he did something wrong. Isabela had not come to him once since the attack on the estate.
It wasn't fear he did not think, Isabela was not afraid of anything.
She was certainly a complicated woman. He often wondered what it would take to get her to move out of her rooms in the Hanged Man and move into the estate. Until recently, she had spent most of her nights there after all.
She doesn't want anything serious, the little voice in the back of his head chided, and neither do you; you are still an apostate living in a city full of Templars.
Isabela would be at risk if she lived with you.
Hawke sighed, that was all true, plus Isabela was not without enemies herself that Antivan Merchant was still after her, Isabela had no desire to bring his wrath down on the Hawkes, not when the Templars were enough.
Garrett respected her for that, but that did not mean he had to like it.
He just wished that she would talk to him; he would help if he could.
They might not have anything serious, but they did have…something.
He needed to stop by darktown, Anders would not be accompanying them on this little jaunt, but he had prepared some potions for them. Potions that would make them more resistant to the taint, the defense wasn't perfect, but it would help.
They had not had those potions the last time they had went into the deep roads, if they had Carver might not be…
Garret pushed those thoughts away.
It was no good crying over spilled milk, what was done, was done.
Carver had apparently accepted it.
He didn't know why he couldn't.
IOI
It was a cold rainy morning when Merrill found herself in the Hanged Man. The elf removed her rain cloak, and headed for a table near the fire.
"Good morning Corff," she said warmly.
The bartender did not respond, she often wondered when the man slept; he always was here it seemed night or day?
It was an interesting mystery to ponder as she broke her fast.
The Hanged Man did not usually serve breakfast food, but Merrill hated trying to cook in the alienage, the smell of food tended to draw brutes demanding tribute. Most did not bother her of course, but her neighbors suffered. So she started to have her morning meals in the hanged man.
When she had told Hawke about the lack of morning fare, he had started paying Corff ten silvers a month to start preparing porridge in the mornings.
The bartender had shrugged; he was not one to refuse money when it was offered.
At first it had been only Merrill who would come in, but slowly, other Alienage elves began to drift in, not to mention foundry workers who had just gotten off the night shift. The porridge was cheap; Corff only charged two coppers a bowl. Some people still wanted the mystery meat stew, but more and more stuck to porridge. It went fast, but Merrill did not need to worry.
Corff always had hers ready by the time she had arrived.
That was also a condition for Hawke's silver.
She had just started her morning meal when a shadow fell over her.
She glanced up to see Arika standing there.
"Merrill yes?" the reaver said flatly.
The dalish nodded.
"May I join you?" the reaver asked.
Merrill swallowed hard but nodded.
The warden sat down next to her bowl of porridge in hand. She took some honey for her porridge and began to eat.
The dalish shifted uncomfortably. Arika intimidated her, Merrill had hoped to have Carver choose her, but then…then he had been lost in the deep roads.
She hoped that Arika did not see her as a threat.
She had no desire to kill someone that Carver cared for.
Kill her, a seductive voice whispered in the Dalish's ear, kill the fool warden and the man will be yours again.
Merrill did her best to avoid those voices.
They led to trouble.
For the first time she got a good look at Carver's new bond mate. The blonde woman was powerfully built for a female shem, but not so much that she was unattractive. She was athletic, and her icy blue eyes were careful and dangerous.
"Do you need something?" Arika asked her.
Creators, she had been staring at the girl!
Stupid, stupid, Merrill!
"You have Vallaslin," the dalish said trying not to squeak, if had been the first thing that had popped into her head.
"I have what?" the reaver asked, she had not decided if she should be offended or not, it depended on what this Valla…whatever the elf had said meant.
"Your markings," the elf said pointing to the girl's chin, "they…they are very pretty."
Arika's fingers drifted to her chin, oh…so it was not an insult…that was good.
"They mean that I am an adult among my people," Arika explained, "that I have killed for my clan."
"As are mine," Merrill said lightly touching her forehead, "Not the killing part of course, not that I haven't killed when I had to, I have, but…but…"
The reaver was giving her that look, the look she knew so well.
"I'll just shut up now," Merrill said sheepishly.
Arika smiled slightly, she reached out for Merrill. The elf started to back away.
"May I?" the reaver asked respectfully.
Merrill nodded.
She tipped the elf's chin, so that she could get a better view of the markings on her forehead.
"Beautiful," she said thoughtfully.
Merrill blushed slightly, the tips of her ears turned rosy pink.
"What do you use for ink?" the reaver asked.
"We use blood, our blood," Merrill informed her, "that is what Vallaslin means… blood writing. We…think that by using our blood."
It makes you more of a family," the reaver understood, "You may be of different bloodlines, but you are all one people."
"Exactly," Merrill said, the shemlen did understand.
Arika ran her finger along the mark on her chin.
"These are made from dragon blood," she informed the Dalish, "The mark on my face…it marks me as a warrior, after I killed my first dragon, after I drank of the blood spurting hot from its severed neck, my Father collected some. He stood at my side when our shaman inscribed the mark of adulthood on my face, he was never more proud. "
Merrill nodded; the reaver was a very fascinating shemlen.
"The swirling pattern is the road that leads to adulthood, it is never a straight path," Arika said thoughtfully, "The symbol in the middle means that my kill was a young female, not a mother yet, but strong and fierce. By taking her blood, I took her strength into me, her savagery, and part of her soul. At least that is what my people believe."
Merrill smiled slightly; the reavers of the mountains were not very different from the dalish, if the girl was to be believed. More violent yes, but not different.
"These are the symbols of our gods," she informed Arika her hand brushing against her forehead, "We emblazon the symbols of the gods on our skin so that we will never forget them that we never forget who we are. We are the walker of the lonely path. We are the last elvhen, never again shall we submit!"
Arika nodded she understood. The chantry had all but stamped out the dragon worship that had once defined the mountains of Nevarra. The dragon hunting clans had been the first to convert, and the chantry used them to strike at the reavers.
So many battles had started over the chantry's desire to have the mountain clans submit to their rule.
Far too many, she thought with a sad sigh.
"I cannot imagine that makes your kind very popular with the lowland chantry?" Arika said.
"It doesn't," Merrill confessed, "As long as we keep moving they don't bother us… much."
"Have you ever considered fighting back?" the reaver asked.
"There is not enough of us left for that," Merrill said, "There are apparently lands for us in Ferelden now, but the chantry is making it difficult for the clans to converge there."
"They don't want your people to unify?"
Merrill nodded.
"Lowland cowards," Arika spat.
Merrill giggled slightly, she was starting to like this girl, she could see what Carver saw in her.
They ate in silence for a while, but finally Merrill could not contain herself.
She had to ask…
"So…um…how did you win Carver's heart?"
Arika paused, that was a bit of a tale.
"Carver won me," she replied, "He defeated me utterly, and demanded my surrender. Among my people, when a man defeats a woman that completely, it means that he has won the right to lay with her."
"Ooh," Merrill said, her green eyes widening.
"He did not take me right away," Arika said thoughtfully, "He seemed…he seemed uncertain of himself. For such a brave warrior, he can be…shy."
"I know,' Merrill blushed, "It…it…is very cute."
Arika nodded a happy sigh on her lips.
"Were you Carver's?" she asked the Dalish.
"Oh no," the dalish sounded panicked; she did not want to fight.
"I'm not jealous Merrill," Arika said, "merely curious."
"Oh…right," the dalish responded, "No…Carver was not mine, he never was, but…but had he asked…"
The dalish sighed, what if was one of the most painful things in life, the Keeper used to say that.
Merrill had never realized the truth in those words…until now.
Arika seemed to recognize her distress.
"Barkeep," she shouted, "ale for my elven friend here."
"Thank you," Merrill said shyly.
"Think nothing of it," the reaver said, "We are both warriors, both of blood and the matters of the heart, there is no shame in honoring a strong rival."
Merrill blushed fully now, she…she was really starting to like the reaver.
Liking a reaver, what an amazing thing, she thought.
Arika raised her tankard.
"To victory," she growled, "May our enemies blood color the snow, and the men we love stay in our beds!"
"To Victory!" Merrill said excitedly, she clanked her mug against the reaver's.
The two women drank deep of their cups.
Merrill could no longer help it.
She liked this shemlen girl, and she had Carver.
Arika was a very lucky woman.
IOI
Carver emerged groggily from their room, when he had awoke he had reached across the bed for Arika only to find her gone, only the warmth where she had laid remained.
So, he had gone looking for her.
He had paused when he heard her and Merrill talking.
He had been afraid at first; Arika had told him sometimes that women in her clan tried to kill rivals for their men's affection.
The reaver knew that he and Merrill had had feelings for each other back then.
He did not wish to see Arika hurt Merrill, or vice versa.
He was shocked to see the two women sitting at the table toasting to each other's health and drinking.
"Maker's breath," he said shaking his head.
He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Nope…he was awake.
It was at that time that Isabela emerged from her room, she spotted Carver and the two women.
The pirate queen smirked.
She came up beside him.
"Morning sweet thing," she purred in that sultry voice of hers.
"Morning," Carver responded, his eyes still focused on Arika and Merrill.
"You know it is not often that two women you have been interested in can sit and have a drink together." She reminded him.
"I know," Carver nodded, he still could not help but wonder if he was dreaming,
"Look at the bright side sweet thing," Isabela said warmly, "Merrill can share all those embarrassing stories she has of you with your new lady."
Embarrassing stories? Carver did not have…
Then he remembered some of the conversations that he and Merrill had had back then.
A twinge of fear ran down his back.
"Oh Maker, he whimpered.
"Have a good day Carver," Isabela strode passed him, a smile on her face and extra sway in her hips.
"Thanks Isabela," he grumbled.
"That's me," she shrugged, having heard him, "I'm a giver."
She chuckled to herself. Carver glared daggers into her back.
He swore under his breath, he really, really hated the pirate right now.
Really.