Chapter 2

"The Story of Marian Hawke by Varric Tethras," Grace read aloud. "What a peculiar name...Varric that is."

The old grandmother smiled. "I think you will find that it is the least peculiar subject in this book."

Grace's brow furrowed. "Yes, well, let's continue." She settled further into her chair. "To Marian, Fenris, Andrea, Lucan and Malcolm; may you always know peace and good ale." Grace quirked an eyebrow. "What a peculiar dedication."

"Are you going to comment after every sentence or read, my dear?" Madeline asked. "I will be dead before you finish."

"Grandmamma!" Grace exclaimed. "Please do not say such horrible things."

Madeline noted the Orlesian accent creeping into the word 'horrible.' It did not please her in the slightest. "Continue, and with less commentary, love."

And Grace began to read:

Varric threw his cards on the table. "Damn, Hawke, you won again. Are you cheating?"

"Hmmmm?" She gave him an accusatory glance. "Varric, you are either letting me win out of pity or buttering me up to take on a job for you." Marian gathered up twenty silver into her arms and slid them across the table. They made a 'happy' clink as she deposited them in her purse. "Which is it?"

The dwarf chugged his ale before he answered. A small smirk played on his lips. "I'd deny it, but it would just delay the inevitable." The tankard dropped to the table. "There's something I want to discuss."

"I knew it," she said in a playful tone. "Unless it involves baby animals or children I'm probably in. Marian removed a shaft of wood and a carving knife from a large pouch. She began to whittle away at it. "I am starting to catch on to your wily ways, Varric."

Varric gestured to the wood shavings that lay in curly piles on his table. "Do you have to do that here?" "It makes a big mess, Hawke."

"What if I run out of arrows right before I take down a big ogre that is about to squish you?" Marian asked; a slip of a smile rested on her lips. "I will clean up after myself, Varric."

He shook his hands and conceded. "Yeah... alright, just throw the shavings in the fire when you are done." Marian pulled out another wooden shaft and put the end up to her eye. When she was content the shaft was straight she proceeded to annoy Varric by creating a new pile of wood shavings. "I want you to tell me one story a week, Hawke. There's ten silver in it if you do."

Marian did not look up from her work. "What do you mean? Like a bedtime story and then I tuck you in at night?" She smiled. "That is a bit too kinky for my taste."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," Varric said. "I want to learn more about you, Hawke. What do you say?"

"Ten silver," Marian said. A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. "That is a nice sum for a story. But..." She looked to Varric. "I am going to guess that you want to choose the topic."

Grace paused from reading and placed the book in her lap. "Grandmother, this book contains crude words. Are you certain you wish me to say them?"

Grandmother Madeline placed her hands over her ears. "Oh my delicate hearing! How could I ever withstand such vulgarity?" A slight smirk played on her lips, while a wise but humored look painted her features. "Child, I am eighty-two and I do believe I have heard every naughty phrase written or spoken in my time. Please continue before I drift off to sleep." Madeline was pleased by her granddaughter's reaction. She found it enjoyable to watch her squirm.

"As you wish, grandmother," Grace said in an uncertain tone. She paused and considered altering the swear word in the next sentence. But, she held too much respect for her grandmother to disobey.

Grace continued:

Varric folded his hands together. "Of course, otherwise you'll tell me some shit I don't want to hear."

"If I do not like the topic...?" Marian asked.

"I am sure we can find a way for us both to get what we want," Varric wiped the ale foam away from his mouth. He studied Marian closely for a hint as to what she might be thinking about his proposition. Over the last month, the dwarf had put his faith in the archer. She was deadly, beautiful and had a great sense of humor. He wasn't sure if it was the leather or the weapon, but for a human, Hawke was a satisfying sight. If she had been three foot shorter, he would have tried his luck. I wonder if she likes chest hair. "Do you need more time to think about it?"

Marian laid her wooden arrow shaft on the table. Varric knows I need the money. Carver and mother are depending on me to get them out of Uncle Gamlen's hell hole of a hovel. Would it be so awful to tell Varric a story... of his choosing... once a week? Maker, yes, but I can be discreet.

"Alright, Varric," Marian answered. "But do not expect to get every last detail from me, especially if it is a sensitive topic." Like Bethany or father's death. Surely, he would not ask. She sighed. Yes he would.

Varric gave her his winning smile. "We'll start off easy, say... Carver. I'm sure there are some stories you could tell me about him without it being too sensitive."

There is nothing sensitive about Carver. "Yes," Marian chuckled. "Actually, in the case of Carver, maybe I should be the one paying you. I will finally be able to bitch about him to someone else besides mother. "

"True," Varric shook his head. "Very true." He drummed his stubby fingers on the table. "Has he always been an ass? He's so damn angry all of the time."

Marian opened her pouch and put the wooden shafts away. She unsheathed her composite bow from its scabbard and began polishing it in methodical strokes. The first time Varric had seen her draw the bow he was in awe. No one in this part of Thedas carried a weapon like it. The curves were sexy and exotic, though he would never admit that in front of Bianca. When he had inquired, Marian told him the story of how she had acquired the bow from an Antivan weapon's dealer. She had met him while in the army. Varric was certain there was more to the story than a bit of gold trading hands. Whatever may have happened, she had become a master archer.

"Do you remember last night when Fenris had that disillusioned look on his face?" Marian said. "It reminded me of the day Carver and Bethany was born. My mother had insisted I look at the two new beautiful babies. Bethany was sound asleep gently cooing and had the most angelic face and rosy cheeks. But when I peeked into the other blanket, there was one big fat wrinkly brother crying at the top of his lungs. Some things never change."

Varric laughed. "You are saying he was born annoying?"

Marian put a hand over her heart. "Maker as my witness... yes." She took a small sip of wine. "Can we discuss Carver tomorrow night? I wanted to speak with Fenris before the sun sets."

"Oh?" Varric smirked. "Anything I should know about?"

"He is new and since he has joined our merry band of misfits, I wanted to make him feel welcomed." Marian diverted her eyes. The smallest hint of a blush bloomed on her cheeks. "It is important I... rather we," she corrected quickly, "get to know him... to better understand each other. You understand."

Varric sank back into his chair. "You want to make an ex-slave who was attacked last night by slave hunters feel welcomed to Kirkwall? Hell, I've lived here all my life and I still don't feel welcomed." The dwarf had noticed Marian's lack of eloquence when she spoke of Fenris. It was noted and put aside... for now.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try," Marian said. She worried her hands while she tried to explain. "We can show him another side to the city." Her index finger rose signaling her enthusiasm and epiphany. "And that not everyone will tolerate slavers."

She's really taken a shine to this elf. The very mention of his name makes her blush like a schoolgirl and light up like a candle. Varric rubbed his lips to hide his smirk. We've met suave men, dirty men, clean men, elves, dwarves, and everything in between, and she has never flirted with any of them, not once. I put it down to her possibly being a virgin or extremely inexperienced. She has always had this vague look on her face after Isabela tells a lewd joke, like she's trying to figure out how those things are even possible and what fits in which hole. Whatever it is, I don't think Hawke has a clue when it comes to men, and especially not an ex-slave. Women always go for the dark, mysterious brooding bastards.

"Just don't expect too much, Hawke," Varric said in a diplomatic voice. "That elf is backed into a corner right now, and from what I've seen, he bites back."

Marian grabbed her belongings and strapped her bow on her back. "I expect nothing from him." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Varric was not convinced, but he nodded. "It will be a friendly chat, nothing more."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Hawke?" Varric asked. The conversation was on the verge of painful embarrassment. "You sure you still want to go to Sundermount? It's at least a two day hike to get there. My damn legs are sore just from the thought of it."

"I made a promise, Varric, and I intend to keep it," Marian said. Since the first day Varric had met Marian he had noticed the strange amulet dangling around her neck. "I would not be here today if the witch had not saved us."

"And that would be a crying shame," Varric said. He held up his tankard and saluted Marian. "I was telling Isabela the other day that I could do with some fresh air."

Marian gestured to their surroundings. "But the Hanged Man is such a fragrant tavern. Who would ever want to leave?"

"I am going to pretend you didn't say that, Hawke." Varric said and then pointed to the door. "You'd better go see that elf. I suspect you will want to ask him to come with us."

Marian's brow furrowed. "How did you know? Should I... reconsider?"

Varric rubbed his forehead. The conversation was making his head hurt. "No," he was insistent, "It will give you an opportunity to see if you want to take him into the Deep Roads. You know..." Varric rolled his hand forward. "Study his fighting skill up close and personal." And hopefully do us all a favor and get laid somewhere along the way.

"If you are certain," Marian said, puzzlement lingering in her voice. "It could always wait until morning."

"Goodnight Hawke." Varric stated with a shake of his head. It was definitive enough to leave no room for discussion.

She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye gesture. "Off I go then... to see Fenris."

"Yes," Varric said in a bored tone. "Off you go."

To Varric's relief, Marian walked to the door and opened it. For a mere moment he noticed her hesitation, but like so many times before she raised her chin and held her head high. The Hawke resolve had kicked in.