Hello out there! Thank you very much for the favs, reviews and alerts. You are extremely kind people.
I don't know what to say about this story. I guess I'm writing it more for me first and to share second this time around. Perhaps, to torture people who unwittingly happen upon it ;) Ah well, compulsive writing syndrome.
Chapter 4: Carver's Big Mouth
Grace finished the last sentence of the page and was about to add her own commentary when she noticed her grandmother's eyes were closed. Ashamedly, she stared at her chest to see if she was still breathing.
What a peculiar book, Grace thought as she studied the faded text. Not only is the author crude but he has included his own person in the story. Grandmother said that this is a romance novel, but how can that be? The woman, Marian Hawke, lacks gentrification and civility. She gambles, swears, associates with a lewd dwarf and wishes to become friends with an ex-slave. She huffed at the leather bound cover. I simply cannot see the appeal of this literary nonsense.
A small puff of dust rose into the sunlight as Grace flipped through the pages. The word 'breasts' on page 205 caught her attention. Surely not.
The calloused pad of his thumb circled her nipple and teased it until it hardened. His sodden lips traced the outline of her soft luscious...
Maker! Grace skimmed the length of the page and noted that the writing was vivid and left little to the imagination. Grandmother read this? The young noblewoman was horror-stricken. But she is my grandmother! Grace read the page again. She told herself it was to ensure that she had not misinterpreted the words. It was most definitely not for pleasure. She looked to her sleeping grandmother, back to the book, and again to make certain her grandmother still slept. Grace, to her shame, folded the corner of the page to mark it for later reading.
She placed the book on the side table. I am not reading this. It is unbecoming of a woman of my station. Grandmother Madeline shifted in her chair. The movement drew Grace's attention. Through the years the one constant in her life had been her grandmother. She was there to counter her mother's emotional immaturity. Grace was reminded of this and her grandmother's many kindnesses as she considered never reading a page of the book again. Breaking my promise to her would bring me the most shame. She would not insist I read this... romance novel, if it can be called such, unless it held some meaning. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cover of the leather bound book. It would seem that Marian Hawke and I are going to become well acquainted, whether I wish it or not. Grace picked up the book and began to read once again.
Marian studied her reflection in the small cracked mirror above the wash basin. The absence of natural light made it nearly impossible for her to fret over every blemish on her face. She could not clearly see them but she knew they were there, those things that she had detested and cursed since she was thirteen: the freckles. Leandra, her mother, had insisted they were charming, especially on a woman with dark hair. Marian had gone to her father, Malcolm many times and asked if there was a spell he could cast to remove them. He had simply laughed and told her that she was beautiful.
Grace smiled at the paragraph. She too had freckles and understood why Marian would want to hide them. In Orlais they were considered unsightly and best disguised by the finest makeup available. Grandmother says they make me unique, but how am I to accept her word? She has never paid much attention to fashion, nor do I suspect she understands fully the plight of being a minor noble in the most prestigious university in all of Thedas. She stopped fretting over her dire circumstances long enough to continue reading.
Vanity was a luxury Marian could not afford. The freckles would remain on display and unconquered until she had the money to mask them.
Perhaps, Marian turned her face side to side, checking one last time to see if there was a particular flaw she could obsess over, Elves find freckles attractive or adorable or, she sighed, they consider them repulsive. Maker... I should be sharpening my arrows, not pinching my cheeks to turn them blush colored.
"Marian?" She heard her mother call. "Are you decent?"
"What is it, mother?" Marian asked. She continued to study her hair and skin. "Did you find Uncle Gamlen with one of his "friends" again?"
Since living with her uncle, Marian had become accustomed to his deplorable habits. He gambled away every sovereign he owned, visited the whorehouse and asked for a freebie, and when that did not work, he lured the odd disenchanted drunken woman back to his hovel.
"There is…" Leandra began to say, hesitant and with effort, "An Elven gentleman here to see you. I... let him in and he is waiting for you... in there... near the door."
So, mother has met Fenris. What I would have given to see their first encounter. Maker, she looks terrified but, yet... Marian bit back a smile. She is intrigued. I guess mother and I are attracted to danger.
"Thank you, mother," Marian said in a reassuring voice. It did nothing to soothe the alarmed look on Leandra's face. If anything, it grew when she noticed her daughter had taken more time than usual over her appearance. "Has Varric or Aveline arrived?"
Leandra did not answer immediately, her eyes fixated on Marian's cheeks. "That man Anders is here, but not Aveline or Varric. She brushed a hair away from Marian's face and scrutinized her appearance. "Did you purchase some rouge from the market?"
"Anders? What is he doing here?" Marian inquired as she placed a dagger in her belt. "No, I did not buy rouge. That would be a luxury and…" She pointed to her mother's ratty slippers. "As you can see, we are full out of luxuries."
"I guess you are simply flushed," Leandra said, disbelief evident in each word. "You should see to your friend before Gamlen awakens."
Why does she keep saying the word 'friend' like it is a dirty word? Marian mentally sighed. Mother knows. Honestly, I can keep nothing from that woman. "Yes," she said in a contrary voice, "Gamlen does need his beauty sleep."
Leandra rolled her eyes. "I would rather not start the morning with an incident, Marian," she said. "If it were our home, I would gladly welcome your friend."
There she goes again with the "friend" reference. Maker, she has done this with every boy I have brought home, even the ones that I had absolutely no intention of getting to know in that "way". Marian rubbed her forehead. Shit, now I am insinuating insinuations. When did I start thinking like my mother?
"Point taken, mother. I will head out with Carver and Fenris after we have eaten breakfast." Marian walked into the great room to find Fenris hovering near the door. Leandra followed close behind and audibly sighed every step of the way.
Marian's eyes fixed on Fenris and wandered over his body. She blushed when she realized he had noticed. He still looks as good as he did yesterday. Fenris straightened his back when the women entered. What had once been a perfectly relaxed man was now something reminiscent of an animal trapped in a cage looking for a way out.
"Good morning, Fenris," Marian greeted in a cheerful voice. He nodded but said nothing. When she finally stopped ogling Fenris, certain that her expression had given away her lust, she noticed that Carver and Anders were sitting at the table devouring pancakes. Anders? What is he doing here? "Sit down and have some breakfast." She gestured to an empty seat next to Carver. It was not her preferred choice but Carver was the lesser of two evils. Fenris had not made Anders' acquaintance, but she was certain that once the elf knew he was eating with a possessed mage, it would raise uncomfortable questions. "We always eat before we leave."
Fenris simply nodded. He had been waiting on the landing to the hovel since sunrise for Hawke to emerge. It never occurred to him to knock. There was, in his mind, an unwritten rule that said that he was not welcome inside the home of a human family. Eventually, the door had finally opened, but when he looked up, it was Leandra, not Hawke who greeted him, as if clenching one's heart and opening one's mouth to silently scream could be called such.
Marian smiled when she saw Fenris hesitate. "Sit, or there will be nothing left to eat. Carver and Anders have rather," she raised an eyebrow toward the two men, "ravenous appetites."
Carver acknowledged Fenris with a face full of indifference. He continued to eat his breakfast with the gusto of a starving man. Anders, however, had taken a keen interest in the elf. Marian sat a plate of pancakes in front of Fenris and, to her brother's annoyance, plucked the honey from his hand.
Fenris had considered the apples and meat pie that Hawke had given him the previous night a wonderful gift, but honey and pancakes? They were equivalent to the best finery Hightown had to offer as far as he was concerned. Fenris began to wonder when his luck would end. Could anyone be this generous and not expect some horrible favor in return? He waited until Marian was seated across from him before taking his first bite. It was… divine. Sweets, he had always craved, but they were usually denied unless Danarius offered to share. When he stole food he would choose the one coated in honey or icing before bread or meat. It gave him a quick shot of energy that was often needed, especially when he was on the run.
Marian noticed Leandra and Anders studying Fenris's tattoos, though they tried to hide their wayward observations with quick sideways glances. Food had Fenris's attention. The world could do as it pleased as long as he had a pancake to eat.
"I've got a tattoo," Carver said out of the blue. "We got them before we were sent to Ostagar."
Marian closed her eyes, horrorstricken by her brother's lack of sensitivity. When she died and met the Maker she would make certain to ask if the point of Carver's existence was to punish her for something she did in her past life.
Fenris placed his knife and fork together and wiped his mouth with his napkin before answering Carver's inane question. Both Leandra and Marian were impressed by his manners.
"You have a… tattoo?" Fenris whispered. The restraint he showed surprised Marian. It had become obvious that he did not like it when people pointed out his differences without consideration for his feelings. That was the crux of his entire existence, being different. She had warned Fenris about Carver. Hopefully, he would take pity on the stupid beast.
"Do you want to see it? It's a Mabari." Carver had a twinkle in his eye. "I can make it bark."
For a mere second Marian worried what Fenris would say. He looked to her and saw the apology written across her face. "I will pass," Fenris said.
"Maker's breath, Carver!" Marian said and she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I am sorry, Fenris. That's just Carver's inept attempt at making friends." She ignored the random swear words her brother mumbled under his breath. "He can't identify with Aveline because she has tits, but you've got a sword, tattoos and all the same parts. Yes," She smiled when Fenris covered his laugh with a cough. "Carver is that basic."
Those present at the table waited for Carver's inevitable outburst, but he did not get the opportunity to complain. Gamlen announced his presence with a stomp of his boots.
"Elves, dwarves, apostates… what's next? The bloody Quanari?" Gamlen asked. "I told you to stop bringing these kinds of people into my house."
Marian looked to Fenris. "You will have to forgive my sweet Uncle Gamlen. He doesn't like anything smarter than him."
"Mark my words, girl." Gamlen pointed his finger at Marian. "One day this is all going to come back to bite you on the ass."
"No more than the rats running around in your hovel, I suspect." Anders grumbled back. "At least she is doing something positive with her life."
Gamlen scoffed. "Don't you dare talk to me like that you bloody apostate," he spat. "I would turn you in to the templars if I didn't fear they would lock me away too."
After Gamlen's revelation that Anders was a mage on the run, Marian noticed that Fenris had stopped eating. He was eyeing her instead of his food. Marian gave him a quick, guilty smile and sprang from her chair.
"Yes, well," Marian hurriedly said. "We should be off."
"I'm not done eating yet," Carver said. "Still have three pancakes left."
Her eyes roamed the room and brightened when they noticed five packs lined up against the wall. "There they are." Fenris, she noticed, was now standing at the door. It occurred to her that he may be reconsidering the offer of his help. "Think fast," she said and threw the pack to Fenris. He caught it with ease.
"What... is this?" Fenris asked. He studied the cheap leather pack as if it may bight back. Hawke had thrown it across the room like a pillow, which surprised Fenris considering the bulk and weight of it. "Do you want me to carry this for you?"
Leandra looked up from her plate. "Marian, please do not throw things in the house. You might break something, dear."
"Like the chipped plates and cups?" Marian winked at Fenris. "What a travesty." His expression remained unchanged and her heart dropped. She had intended to tell him about Anders on the way to Sundermount before the two met.
"Marian," Leandra scolded in a well practiced manner. "They may be somewhat beaten around the edges but they are Gamlen's and we should be respectful of his property."
Marian? Fenris realized he had not heard Hawke's proper name spoken until now. That is a lovely name for a...
The tight fitting leather and hide armor hugged her hips and breasts, accentuating her femininity rather than her battle honed muscles. But, after seeing her fight, a person would be a fool to think that her curves defined her abilities. Shooting an arrow through a man's eyeball at fifty paces was not a trait Fenris associated with women who held afternoon tea parties and crocheted doilies.
What is wrong with afternoon tea parties and crocheting doilies? Grace thought. What would a slave know of civility anyway? Her shoulders shimmied and she sank further down into the overstuffed chair. She began to read once again.
No, this woman was more than her appearance and that was something he could appreciate. For all his discipline, Fenris could not deny his attraction. Marian is a fitting name, he decided.
"I am sorry your pack is dark purple, Fenris" Marian gestured to it with her head. "If it offends your sensibilities you can have mine."
"You bought that from Howard the tailor didn't you? What is it with him lately?" Carver asked. "He's been dying everything these strange Maker awful colors and then selling them at a discount. I bought a pair of socks from him the other day, got a good deal too, except one was blue and the other, pink." He took a large bite of his pancake and continued to talk with a full mouth. "My boots cover them though, so I guess it doesn't matter."
Marian beamed a wicked grin at Carver "Ah well, colorful socks for such a colorful personality. I suppose it is fitting, though..." She tapped her finger against her lips seeming to carefully consider her thoughts. "If the socks were really supposed to be a reflection of your personality, I would go with brown next time."
"Shut it sister."
Gamlen crossed his arms over his chest. Ripe disgust - the kind people show when someone has passed horrendous amount of bodily gas - adorned his face. "I thought you were leaving?"
"We are, uncle," Marian said, her defiance deflated by the thought that Fenris would most likely tell her he was no longer interested in traveling to Sundermount. She handed Carver his pack and grabbed the remaining two. "I thought Aveline and Varric would be here by now."
Anders gently removed one of the packs from Marian's hands. "Varric asked me to take Aveline's place, something to do with guard duty," he said and added a smile. "I am sorry, I forgot to mention it."
Shit. Marian smiled back at the mage with a lack of true feeling. Anders failed to notice, but Fenris had been watching with avid interest. Well, if there was any chance that Fenris wants to go, I am certain he will try and find an excuse to leave now. Damn it, Aveline. Why do you have to be so responsible? She considered, for the briefest moment, telling Anders that she no longer required his assistance. But she didn't have the heart, given that the mage reminded her of a big, misunderstood teddy bear.
"I appreciate your help," Marian replied to Anders. Her eyes drifted to Fenris. The elf tried to pretend that he was intrigued by the contents of his empty coin purse. But his eyes strayed to Marian and he noticed her tinged cheeks. "We should be off."
She told me that she consorted with apostates. I did not consider the ramifications of that statement before I agreed to offer my services. Fenris watched Marian gather the rest of her belongings while he considered the situation. I promised to repay my debt and I will, but I never promised I would do so gladly. This is simply a job and I would be wise remember that.
Marian kissed her mother on the cheek and headed for the door. She deliberately avoided eye contact with Fenris.
"I will be back in four days." Marian gave Leandra a confident smile. The tears started to well in her mother's eyes.
"Both of you be careful," Leandra said. "I will worry until you return."
Marian paused before exiting. "Love you, mother." The door closed quietly before Leandra could respond. Marian was certain that her mother was already crying.
"Fenris," Marian said as she descended the stairs. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"
"Of course," Fenris said.
Marian waited until Carver and Anders were out of earshot. She played with a silver ring on her index finger as she spoke, a nervous habit she had picked up from her father.
"Do you still wish to travel with us?" Marian finally managed to ask. Show no emotion, she thought. "I understand if you do not."
Fenris stared down at her, his eyes as intense as the blinding sun, and for the first time he noticed that Hawke appeared to be nervous. "If that is what you wish, then yes."
"It is not about what I wish, Fenris," Marian said. She had found her confidence again. "I do not want you to travel to Sundermount with me if you are angry that Anders is now in my company."
She is… concerned that I am angry? Why does she care? He had to look away. Who has ever cared?
He pushed his melancholy emotions to the side and thought, for the second time in his life, about what he really wanted. The first had been his freedom. I owe her a debt and I will repay it.
He hesitated. "I would like to accompany you to Sundermount if you have need of me. But, I would know more of this mage."
Marian smiled, "Thank you Fenris," she said, her voice lighter than it had been. "There will be ample time to discuss Anders along the way. I…" How do I explain Justice? "I have to warn you that you are not going to like what I have to say, but I hope you can refrain from strangling him to death."
"I promise nothing," Fenris said and he smirked like he had the night before and Marian felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "For you, I will endeavor to be more tolerant." The scowl at the end of the sentence was not very reassuring, but Marian understood.
This should prove to be the most interesting adventure yet, she thought. If I am lucky he will not kill Anders before we return, and if I am unlucky we will have to dig a big hole.
Marian walked beside Fenris, contemplating what it meant to be infatuated with a man she hardly knew, and Fenris walked beside Marian, contemplating what it meant to trust someone for more than a day. Together, they made for the Hanged Man.
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