Chapter 20

Gavin sat on his cot by the fire in his estate's living area, reflecting on the events of the past six months. After returning from the expedition and telling his mother what had happened, he had immediately set out to reclaim the estate. His mother's meeting with the Viscount had gone well and he simply had to pay the outstanding taxes on the estate. Afterwards, he had taken great satisfaction in watching Aveline supervise the city guard as they evicted the slavers from the place. Of course, only he knew that the men living there were slavers, and he had no intention of sharing that information. The last thing he wanted was to give the group a reason to come after him or his family.

Once they were gone, he had gone in to assess the condition of the place. Even though it wasn't a complete disaster area, it still was unlivable as far as he was concerned. His mother would have had a heart attack if she'd seen the condition of her old home. The slavers, in an effort to keep away prying eyes, had let the place fall into disrepair. The entire grounds around the house had been allowed to grow wild, obscuring doors and windows. They hadn't bothered to clean or repair anything inside, and so all the carpets, rugs, and furniture were ruined beyond repair. There was a huge rat infestation as well, and dust, grime and dirt stained the walls and the floors. Fortunately, the stone and marble was not too badly broken or damaged, requiring only minor masonry work he had to pay for. The rest of it he did himself, with help on occasion from Fenris and Aveline. Varric had taken one look and said he was merchant, not a miracle worker, and beaten a hasty retreat. Fenris was his most constant helper, not perturbed in the least by all the filth and the rats. Gavin imagined that, while on the run from Danarius, the elf had stayed in worse places.

Once the place was his, he had moved out of his Uncle's house. He had been unable to face his mother since the day he returned, unable to look into her eyes and see the accusation that surely was there. Even though she never said the words this time, he knew she blamed him for Carver's death, just like she did when Bethany died. He wondered if she would ever forgive him. Even if she did, he couldn't. It was like a wound that wouldn't heal properly, something always reopened it and made it bleed again.

So, he had thrown himself into fixing the place, often waking at the crack of dawn and working till he would drop exhausted to his bed. This way, he was able to keep the nightmares away. The strategy had worked, up to a point. He still had times where thoughts of Carver and Bethany and how they died intruded, but at least his sleep was untroubled.

However, there was now nothing left for him to do besides furnish the place. He had already talked with Varric and made arrangement for the delivery of furniture, rugs, tapestries, cookware, dishes, and everything else needed to make the house a home. It would take a huge chunk out of the money he made form the expedition, but as long as his mother was happy, it was worth it.

Sighing he reached down and pulled a bottle from the case of Antivan brandy he'd just purchased. He opened it and took a long drink. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the two items he never was without. They were bracelets made of simple, braided leather, with the names of his siblings on them. He had a similar one on his wrist. It was the one thing they had made together as a family, a way for their father to make all his children feel wanted and needed. As he sat in front of the fire and remembered what he'd lost, he continued to drink from the bottle until he could no longer stay awake.

This pattern repeated itself every night for several months. During the day he was able to keep the feelings of guilt at bay, but at night, when the house became quiet, he would retreat to his room and drink himself to sleep. It was the only way he could get any rest. After a few months of this, it began to take its toll and he began to change, a change that did not go unnoticed by his friends. He became surly, snappish, and withdrawn. If anyone tried to talk to him about it, they quickly found themselves standing on the other side of a closed door. Even Fang often found himself on the short end of his master's temper.

After a while they stopped bothering him and their visits became less frequent. He thought that this would have made it easier, but it only increased his feelings of guilt and self-loathing. One night, he found himself outside the doors of the Chantry, having walked there in an alcholic daze. He would have turned away, but a sudden need to understand why his brother and sister had been taken from him flared up inside him. He slipped inside and walked to where the large statue of Andraste stood and plopped down on a bench in front of it.

Sister Clara was just making a final round to insure the candles were lit when she spied the lone figure of a man on a bench towards the front of the chapel. She approached him intending to see if he needed anything. As she got nearer though, her step faltered as she saw a knife in the man's hand. Blessed Andraste, no one had ever entered the chapel to pray while armed. She soon caught the smell of brandy about the man and she became afraid. Not knowing what to do, she turned and left as quietly as she had come, heading for the Grand Cleric's sitting room. Knocking on the door, she entered when bidden to find Elthina sitting with Prince Vael and drinking tea.

"Forgive the intrusion Your Grace, but there is a man in the chapel and-and-"

"It is not unusual for someone to come and pray late at night my dear," Elthina said calmly. "Our doors are always open."

"It's not that," the sister shook her head, her voice trembling. "I think he's drunk and he has a knife in his hand!"

Sebastian Vael's brows rose in surprise and he glanced in alarm at the woman across from him. "I think it best if we call the Chantry guards and have them remove the man, for safety reasons."

"Sebastian, you make the assumption that the man is here for nefarious reasons," Elthina admonished. "Perhaps he is merely a lost soul seeking the Maker's guidance. I will go and speak with him," she finished and got calmly to her feet.

"Allow me to accompany you," the prince jumped up as well.

Elthina bit back a sigh and simply nodded. How predictable the prince was in his actions. She knew he was devoted to her, but sometimes he was a little overprotective. They all lived and died as the Maker willed it and she put her trust in that. She entered the chapel and approached the man at the front with Sebastian practically glued to her side. As she got a good look at him, she thought she recognized him from somewhere. It wasn't until Sebastion spoke that the memory clicked.

"Master Hawke!" the prince exclaimed. As he watched, the man before them looked up and he had to surpress a gasp of dismay. This was not the young man who had hunted down the Flint company for him. He was not the confident adventurer the prince remembered, but a man tortured by some inner demon.

Gavin squinted up at the people before him, finally placing the young man as the prince who's family he'd advenged. "So, still here huh?" he slurred out. "Half expected you'd have gone back to Starkhaven by now. Reclaim your throne and all that."

"Tell me young man, what is it that you seek here this night," the grand cleric said softly, but firmly.

Gavin shrugged, "Just wondering what I did to earn the Maker's disfavor." He looked down at the knife in his hands that was still stained with his brother's blood. "I killed him you know. It's my fault he's dead."

"Whom did you kill?" Elthina pressed.

Gavin looked up at her, saw her sincerity and kindness, and the story just seemed to pour from him, like a floodgate had been opened. He recounted everything of the trip, his feelings, his motivations, the final devastating moment when he helped his brother die. "I shouldn't have brought him. If I hadn't, he'd still be alive."

"Oh child, bad things happen to good people all the time and the Maker has nothing to do with it," Elthina shook her head. "He gave us the freedom to choose our path in life. He does not sit up there directing our every action, nor does He sit there and condemn us for our transgressions. He waits until our lives have run their course and then welcomes us to his side."

"But I killed him, I brought him down there and now he's dead," Gavin protested. "My mother begged me not to take him, said she knew something bad would happen. Everytime she looks at me I can see the blame in her eyes."

"No, you spared him a fate worse than death, it was his fate to be tainted by the darkspawn," she said gently. "Death is only the ending of our mortal life and the beginning of our eternal life at the Maker's side, it is not something to be feared or regretted. Death comes for us all in our time and it was simply your brother's time." She could see that he didn't really believe her. "Of course, consuming alchohol prevents us from hearing the Maker's voice in our lives," she said pointedly.

Gavin looked down at the knife in his hands and shrugged, "It helps me sleep."

Elthina sighed and turned to the man at her side, "Sebastian, would you please escort him home and stay with him tonight." Getting a nod from the prince she turned back to Gavin. "I want you to drink no more tonight. In the morning, if you wish, you may return here and we will speak more of this. It is only with a clear head that you will understand." She turned to go and had almost reached the door when she paused and looked back, "I remember your family. They were one of the oldest and most honorable noble families in Kirkwall. I would like to get to know you and tell you of them. If you return tomorrow, we can discuss it."

Gavin allowed himself to be led out of the Chantry by Sebastian. He felt a little ashamed to be seen in this condition by the prince, given their past association. Also, the reminder by the Grand Cleric of who his family was caused him no small discomfort. "Some noble I'd make," he snorted.

"Oh I don't know," Sebastian said with quiet humor. "On several occasions in my younger days I was escorted home in much the same manner as I now escort you. I was a disgrace to my family name. It is only after I was given to the Chantry that I learned how a true noble should act."

"So you got drunk on a regular basis too?"

"Among other things," the prince nodded. "Nobles are just ordinary men, only with more money and titles. We have the same problems and doubts as common folk."

The rest of the way was travelled in silence. Upon entering, they were confronted by a very anxious Leandra, "Oh Gavin, what's happened! I've been worried sick about you."

"Pardon me madam, but I think it best to postpone any such conversation until tomorrow," Sebastian bowed slightly. "Your son needs to get a good night's sleep. With your permission, Grand Cleric Elthina would like me to stay with Gavin tonight."

"Of course, but I want a full explanation in the morning," Leandra agreed.

"You shall have it, I promise," the prince nodded and led Gavin up the stairs. He helped him to undress and get into bed and then settled into a chair near the fire. A touch on his arm had him looking up to see Leandra standing over him with blanket and pillow.

"You'll be more comfortable with these," she held them out. "And thank you for looking after my son. He's all I have left and I couldn't bear it if something had happened to him."

"It is no problem," Sebastian stood and bowed again. "He did me a great favor some time ago and I am pleased to be able to return the favor." He waited until she had gone before settling in. The chair was surprisingly comfortable and he fell asleep easily.