Grumbling, wet from the spring autumn rain that had passed by in a matter of minutes – just as he'd left the Kirkwall Keep, of course – Garrett marched up the few steps it took to reach the mezzanine of his mansion, too wet and tired to marvel at the fact that what was essentially a palace was now his home.
By now, the shock of the change their life had undergone was starting to fade, even for him, who had – in contrast to Leandra and Gamlen – never known such wealth to start with. Although, that shock had never truly gripped him, except for a few moments of calm he'd managed to steal away at times. Mostly, his attention had been focused on anything but coming to terms with – and maybe even enjoying – his new wealth though.
He was, as a noble, required to go to the council, and while it seemed many didn't do this, Garrett was not one to shy away from his duties, and even saw these councils as an opportunity. Yet the reality of it had been...jarring so far. There was nearly no governing, no decisions being made. There was bickering, and selfishness, a weak Viscount and a looming Templar presence...but little actually being done. Garrett had found it all more and more frustrating, even as the feeling of being judged by every noble in the council, as well as by the Templar's representatives – all curious of the newcomer – wore on him like an ill-fitting collar.
There had been the paranoia of losing the wealth. All those investments, all those expenditures...Garrett had winced at every one, knowing he had to make them if he was going to succeed in upholding his new standard of living. The idea of failing, however...it gnawed on him, for if he did...he was fairly sure Leandra wouldn't be able to cope with that, his mother already having gone through enough as it were.
That was one of the reasons why he let her have the run of the palace. It was expensive, but it kept her happy...it kept her busy, made her feel at home again, something she truly needed.
The second reason was sadder.
After the initial screaming, the blaming and the tears after Garrett's revelation about Bethany, things had eventually simmered down. In fact, Leandra was now as friendly and happy as she was before with him, yet it felt...forced. Every time she looked at him, it was with a hint of something else underneath her eyes, like a demand that he'd make things up to her. And while he was trying to do just that, that look...it was hard to bear it when he already blamed himself enough as it was. Hell, he couldn't blame her for wanting to put the vase with Bethany's ashes on a pedestal right in the main hall...but the way she had looked at him when suggesting it...it had broken his heart.
In a way, Garrett almost preferred Carver's outright bitterness than Leandra's wounded love. Hell, Gamlen might have gotten over Bethany's death far too easily in Garrett's opinion, but at least that meant the man treated Garrett as he always had...even though that largely meant treating him as a walking bank.
I miss Bethany, her love, the love she inspired...
Not that Carver had made things any easier. Even though the hurt in Leandra's eyes was hard to bear, it was a silent kind of suffering, a slight tension. Yet Carver...he had never been one to be silent, one who expressed himself quietly...and had again and again torn that silence asunder, made mother cry and Gamlen to drink even more as Garrett silently despaired, wanting nothing but to run away. But Garrett hadn't done that, he couldn't do that, not when he was the head of the household. So he talked to Carver, again and again, trying to speak to a man who after his outburst had turned into a wall, refusing to speak in anything but clipped words...a state practically the usual mood for him now.
Not that Garrett saw much of the man now, with his constant trips to every bar in town.
It...hurt.
And recently, to add insult to the injury, he'd been betrayed by three of his companions in the fade, one of which he'd even considered a friend, and another two where he was at least trying.
That hurt too, more so than he'd expected.
He had saved Feynriel though, and though the trial he'd gone through to do so had been hard on him...it had brought him more satisfaction than anything he'd done – considering the successful expedition was forever tainted by Bethany's blood – since arriving at Kirkwall.
It made the death of Bethany linger on his conscience just a little less. Not by much, but it was a welcome reprieve none the less.
Not that he felt that right now, being wet and cold, not to mention grouchy from hours of pointless speeches.
Crossing the mezzanine, he watched the two guards by the door knock a fist against their chest in salute. The woman's nose was red from the cold imposed by the sudden rain, and the man looked like he'd been caught mid-yawn. Bet they're close to the end of their shift. "Jeannie, Darren." Garrett offered them each a nod, somewhat puzzled by the way they straightened at the mention of their name. Garrett had asked Varric why his guards and servants kept doing that when he greeted them by name, yet the dwarf's only answer had been a long laugh. Peculiar... "You two look cold, I'll see if I can get something hot sent your way."
Without waiting for a surprised-looking Jeannie to open the door for him – Garrett found such actions of his guards and servants somewhat superfluous, much to the chagrin of some of the more traditionalist servants, he'd heard – the man pushed the door to his home open as Darren managed to speak up. "Th-thank you, Ser."
Inside, it was warmer, and Garrett grimaced at the way the brown coat wrapped around him dripped water all over the spotless floors. The servant in the cloakroom – no doubt they'd spotted Garrett coming and sent him running – was instantly by Garrett's side, his elven nose twitching somewhat at the smell of wet dog as he moved around Garrett and reached for his coat. "Thank you, Fenn." Garrett pulled his arms back, letting the elf pull the coat off, as he did so, Garrett glanced down at Maric, the dog giving him an expectant look, water dripping from his fur. "Oh fine, but in the corner." A little woof, and Maric trotted over to the far corner of the room before shaking violently, sending water spraying in all directions and making the servant sigh as he struggled to carry the wet and heavy cloak over to the wardrobes at the other end of the room. "Sorry, Fenn, but you know how he hates the towel."
Barely had the elf put his coat into its place – well away from the other clothes – before he with a bow to Garrett and a cold look at Maric, hurriedly moved on to whatever job the master of servants had him on. Amazing how busy the servants always are, then again, this is a large house, still feels odd never having to clean it or doing dishes... Looking at the doorway through which Fenn had escaped, Garrett couldn't help but spot the pedestal far off in the next room, flanked by the two stairs leading up to the gallery above, a pedestal upon the green vase containing Bethany's ashes stood. Maker, sorry, Bethany, but I hate seeing you the moment I enter my home, it makes me feel...not welcome...
Barely had the elf escaped before Bastile stepped through the doorway, interrupting Garrett's line of thoughts. Grateful for that, Garrett offered the grim-looking man a smile, making the usually hardness in the man's grey eyes fade somewhat. "Ah, good day to you, Bastile, how is my master at arms?" Frowning in sudden thought, Garrett hesitated. "Is it time for our practice already?" The idea of not using a chevalier to train him to become better – like some Kirkwall nobles seemed to waste the service of their own master at arms – was one Garrett couldn't comprehend, especially considering wealth could be such a fleeting thing...skills, those he retained and could make use of. One never knows what the future brings, best be prepared...even though the beating received learning more in this area is a tad...much...serves me right for asking him not to go easy on me, but to be as hard as he would be on another chevalier in training. Not that Garrett was about to change his mind, the bruises would become fewer as he learnt, in time. "I didn't think I was gone for that long."
"I'm well, Serah, and no, not for a few hours." The man offered a curt bow of the head. "I was on my way to check on the guards."
"Ah, very well." Garrett stepped away from the door. The story of how the ex-chevalier had lost his title wasn't something Garrett was about to pry into, but judging by his limp and the bitterness in his eyes, it wasn't a good one. Orlesian politics were as likely a culprit as battle. "Maybe have them send some warmed wine? They look cold, and being cold makes one inattentive." Garrett knew that well from his time under Athenril's rule.
Bastile slowed at that, hand on the handle of the door. "As...you say, Serah." Judging by his tone, he disapproved, but not enough to speak up, as he did if it was something he felt strongly about. Good, I've had just enough of arguing for one day...
Gesturing for Maric to head for the kitchen for his promised treat – the hound had been exceedingly well-behaved while in the council, not that Garrett was surprised by that – Garrett offered Bastile a final nod before walking into the main chamber.
The spacious hall was large enough to act as a ballroom, the twin stairs leading up to the gallery above a clever way to divide living areas to those of a more practical nature. With the high ceiling – the crystal chandelier now in place – as well as the fine paintings and other decorations, it was a truly beautiful room to be in, even though one mostly used it to get to other rooms. Leandra had argued for the beautification of the room above all others, stressing the need to make a good impression to any guests they might have. Garrett found the reasoning sound, and wasn't about to argue with his mother, and as such had assented to it.
He wasn't about to stop and admire the scenery though, he'd done so to every painting in the room already, and his fingers were itching... I have a few hours, I should take the opportunity to finally see to my library. The thought nearly drew a smile to Garrett's lips as he turned to the left, heading for the nearest door with eager steps. He hadn't seen a reason to put the library among the living rooms, not when he intended to add more books in the future.
He didn't get far though, as Bodahn appeared through another door and headed to intercept him. Stopping, Garrett inwardly sighed...only to notice Bodahn's smile and cocked his head to the side. "Bodahn, I didn't know you were here, how goes it with our merchants?" Garrett's efforts in sponsoring minor merchants to make money through them was so far small, considering his investments in the second expedition, yet it still was the seed for future profits, and Garrett was eager for some good news.
"Good, good, getting some nice returns already." Bodahn nodded impatiently, then grimaced. "Though if you want some profits large enough to really affect our economy..."
"More investments, I know." Garrett sighed, he knew that was to be expected, yet the idea of his work so far only paying in coppers when he needed gold wasn't the encouragement he needed. "That'll have to wait, as you know..."
Bodahn grimaced, the dwarf wasn't exactly in Garrett's hire, but rather an ally. Yet with Garrett being the money and Bodahn claiming he owed the human, their alliance was clearly not that of equals. The dwarf seemed to enjoy his new role as Garrett's agent though, perhaps because Garrett had offered him fairly loose reins and to make use of his son, and took on his job with gusto. "Oh I know, Serah, I've looked over the books, same as you." His grimace turned into a grin in the blink of an eye though. "Which is why this is such good news, arrived this morning with a messenger who rode ahead." He held up a letter, an opened letter, to Garrett. "Sorry, I just had to read it, it's from the expedition." I might give you loose reins, but opening my mail... Garrett took the letter, but refused to read it, instead he gave Bodahn a look, the look he usually reserved for Bethany or Carver when he was chastising them. The dwarf blinked. "Err...sorry." Garrett kept looking at him. "I...it won't happen again."
"Good, then all's forgiven." Garrett turned to the letter, looking at the short text and pretending not to notice Bodahn's relieved sigh. "Thaig reached. Heavier resistance than anticipated, moderate casualties. Thaig ours. Loading up cargo and returning home." He grimaced at the short words, well aware he should have expected something like that from a Fereldian who could barely spell. Yet while the dwarven experts on the expedition had disliked it, Garrett had been very clear on that man being the one in charge of the expedition. With so many mercenaries in it, they needed a warrior to keep up discipline and obedience, not an engineer. Still, I told him to give me precise figures...ah well. Too relieved to care about such minor infractions, Garrett felt himself sigh in relief, one of the weights on his shoulders seemingly slipping off. "This is...great news indeed."
"Yes, see, didn't I say everything would work out alright in the end?" Bodahn offered a reassuring smile and patted Garrett's wrist. "Once the expedition returns, I can take an account over how much might remain so we can send a cheaper one down there, the profits will still be great, so we can expand our work here in Kirkwall...your position is secure, Serah."
Garrett offered a pale smile at that, remembering the suddenness with which Bethany's death had struck him. "I'll believe that when I have the money in my hand, but thank you." He handed the letter back to Bodahn. "I trust you to handle the reception of them. If the mercenaries look grouchy after their losses. You are allowed to offer them a bonus, I'd like us to part with them on good terms." Varric was on to something with that, if I want to hire them again, it's best they make more than reluctant allies.
"Of course, Serah." Bodahn grinned, nearly jumping where he stood. "Oh, so much to prepare! I better get going!" Not even remembering to say good bye, the dwarf headed for the exit, a bounce in his steps.
Ah, this day is looking better already... Garrett, the sour mood he was in when entering his home forgotten, took another step towards the door to the library, more eager than before to sit down and let the new events sink in while enjoying a good read.
Only to hold back a groan as Leandra's voice brought him to a halt. Looks like I won't get any reading done...again...what's the point of a library if you never get to be in it? Forcing a patient smile, he turned to the voice, spotting his mother coming down the nearest stairs with a big grin on her face and eyes sparkling with excitement. "Son, I have the greatest news!" As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she cast Bethany's ashes a glance, the sparkle in her eyes dying in time for her to look back to Garrett, making him inwardly wince even as she continued to grin at him. "We've been invited to the party!"
"A party?" Garrett blinked. I've...never been big on festivities...ah well, just another thing to do, I suppose, can't disappoint mother, and it might be expected of me to show up, I suspect.
"Not a party, the party." Leandra corrected, touching Garrett's shoulder fleetingly with a head cocked to the side. Noticing Garrett's blank look, she rolled her eyes, but continued to grin. "The Reinhart's party! They have one every six months or so, to welcome either winter or summer." I...was supposed to know that? Garrett forced himself not to ask that though, well aware his mother was too caught up in memories to think about that, as Leandra continued. "Everyone's invited. Major and minor nobles, officials, anyone of proper rank." She brought her fists up to her chin while still grinning, looking every bit of an excited girl, despite her age. "And we're invited!" Garrett blinked, the implications sinking in. "Don't you understand what this means!?"
"I do, the invitation means the Reinhart's – one of the dominating noble families – is socially accepting us as part of nobility, which probably means the others will follow suit." Garrett nodded, not letting himself be too bothered by Leandra's pout over his somewhat droll way of summarizing the situation. "This is good, very good...we must attend." Not like you'll offer a choice. Garrett stroked his chin, frowning. "Getting some time alone with various nobles would actually be useful too, at those meetings in the keep it's hard to make any deals. Between the Chantry scribe and all the others listening in...no, you don't want to hear it, sorry." He shook his head, then smiled at his mother. "What's important is that this is an opportunity for us, which we should grasp."
"Exactly, son." Leandra grinned at him for a moment, then got something soft in her eyes as she looked at him, hands moving up to touch his shoulders. "You're so handsome in red, you should wear more of it." Garrett grimaced, but patiently bore his mother's scrutiny of his black and red doublet. It was just clothes to him, clothes befitting a noble, but clothes none the less. When did mother start caring about how we dressed anyway...foolish question, Garrett. "Yes, some reversing of the colours, maybe...I'll have to go to the seamstress right away tomorrow to get some samples." She glanced at his face, shaking her head. "And do remember to shave before the party, I can't believe you go to the council meetings with stubble like some dockworker."
Garrett self-consciously touched his chin, his habit of forgetting to shave wasn't new to him, but nowadays Leandra was understandably less tolerant of it. "I shall...when is it?"
"In three months."
"They invited us to a party that's not for another three months?" Garrett blinked.
Leandra shook her head at him. "It works differently in this world, don't worry, I'll lead you through it...we'll have so much fun."
Unlikely, at least for me. I've met the Reinhart husband, he's the most selfish noble of them all...still, might present good opportunities to do business with him and others. "I'm sure we will, mother."
For a moment, Leandra just stood there, smiling at him – though as usual, the smile no longer reached her eyes – then she glanced past his shoulder and her smile turned a little more genuine. "Oh but I'm sorry, I see you finally wanted to get some reading done. Well I won't keep you, I know how much you've looked forward to using the library."
"Thank you, mother." Garrett leant forward, kissing Leandra on the cheek, a gesture she politely returned before they both turned away, Garrett towards the library and Leandra – by the looks of it – towards the kitchen. I hope she doesn't try to boss the chef around again, it's not really helpful... The worry weighed light against his eagerness to finally sit down though, so Garrett didn't hesitate in moving towards the library, steps fast to stop any further interruptions, the man nearly tackling his way through the door.
The library wasn't set in an overly larger room, but it still allowed two dozen shelves, half of which were packed with books while the rest had room to grow and as such sported a few decorative candlesticks and saucers as well as the books. With wooden floors and walls, a fireplace that saw little use save on the coldest days in winter, a couple of chairs covered in green cushions, a small mahogany table to put any drinks and current reading material on, as well as a few green rugs on the floor, it was without a doubt the most homely place in Garrett's home...and as such the one place he truly felt comfortable in so far.
Steps suddenly slow, Garrett took a deep breath and felt his shoulders slump, the slight smell of books and wood holding a soothing quality, making the stress run off one like water. I'm going to enjoy this... Garrett, not even looking, picked a book at random and moved to the chair closest to the far corner of the room. You look comfortable. Like all others, the chair was of wicker cleverly braided together, and every part of the arm- and backrest looked inviting even without the thick cushions covering most of the inside.
Putting down the book on the table next to the chair, Garrett turned around, put his hands on the armrests and slowly lowered himself into the chair. Unable to hide his satisfaction, he found his mouth opening at the feel of it. "Ahhhh..." Leaning back into it, he picked up the book, smiling at it. "...this is just what I-"
Before him, the door shot open.
Oh for... Growling, Garrett put the book aside and jumped to his feet, only a moment later realising who had pushed the door open. "Merrill!?"
Behind the upset-looking elf, a pair of guards came running, looking angry...and then all colour drained from their faces as they saw Garrett's face. "Err...Serah, we...err...she kind of just ran right-"
"Darren, Jeannie, it's okay." Garrett raised a hand to stop their excuse. "I did say she was welcome, did I not?" The two guards exchanged a sheepish look. "Do try to be better at your job though...people shouldn't be able to run past you." The sheepish look turned shamed. "Dismissed."
With that, Garrett marched forward, making sure to ignore Merrill's eyes as he walked past her and closed the door behind her.
Silence.
Garrett stood perfectly still, looking at the door, putting his thoughts in order.
Only once he was done, he turned to face the elf, keeping his tone cold. "What is it?"
The elf though, didn't flinch away from either his tone, nor the cool look her shot her. Instead she took a step closer, looking distraught. "I'm so sorry! I...I knew I shouldn't have abandoned you like that! Not when I knew what Dhavine was trying to do!"
And the only one coming to apologise is Merrill, what a surprise... Garrett grumbled, yet the fact Merrill was the only one coming to do that didn't mean he was about to forgive. "Yet you did. You left me to struggle with a demon, risking the life of a young boy." The thought of it...Garrett felt his hand curl into an angry fist. "I thought you valued life more than that, or at least, that's the impression I've been given, perhaps I was wrong in this?"
"I do! I...it's just that..." Merrill took a step back, finally noticing the cool look in his eyes, and it made her visibly shrink in stature, looking up at him as a puppy having done something bad would do. It was admittedly cute, but Garrett refused to soften before her big eyes. "Y-you know how persuasive she is, how she gets into your brain..." I...yes. Garrett shifted where he stood, uncomfortable with the reminder of how...accurate Dhavine had been in guessing his desires. "...I...wasn't as prepared for that as I thought I was. I thought I would just have to protect you, since the spell was focused on you, I didn't...I didn't realise I could also be targeted..."
That's...a fair excuse. Garrett grimaced, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. "You still left me, could well have gotten me killed. And for what? An offer the demon would likely never had held?"
"She...she probably would have..." Probably? Merrill looked unsure, but then shrugged her head, turning more sure of herself. "She would have, it too is in her nature, yet...that is no excuse, I shouldn't have done what I did."
"Well...no." Garrett, somewhat annoyed with how the elf was simply agreeing with him, crossed his arms over his chest. "I understand your want to save your people and make them great again, I even admire it, but to agree to sacrifice a young boy for it...it's not you." He shifted where he stood. "Do you understand that this concerns me? That you might be so easily tricked by a demon? Given what you are?"
"I...do..." Merrill bit her bottom lip, but then straightened, holding her chin up. "But in the real world, I'm not like that, I know what I'm doing." You sure about that...? "Besides, I'm willing to sacrifice my own life if it would save my people, so Dhavine probably took that in the fade and...changed it..."
"Self-sacrifice is not close to the sacrifice of another." Garrett snapped, then shook his head, glaring down at Merrill. "And I can't help but remember Dhavine speaking of the boy when trying to convince you...did him not being an elf work in convincing you he could be sacrificed...?"
"I...that's...I..." Merrill took a step back, then another, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "...I think it must have, given how she spoke of it." She grimaced. "I'm not proud of it! I didn't...I don't think like that, not in real life! B-but...there are ideas that...linger among the Dalish, and I'm sure they linger in me too." She shook her head. "I'm trying to better myself though. I know such thoughts aren't right. I love all life and hate discrimination! I see it every day!" Another shake of her head, her shoulders slumping as she looked away. "It's just...hard." Looking down at her feet, she hugged herself. "I'm sure you know of many humans openly thinking even worse things of elves..." Oh. "...it's in our cultures, and it's hard to just...cast it aside..." I...yes. Garrett, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and a bit guilty, shifted where he stood. "I'm...all I can do is to be aware of it and think on it, knowing that I might not be perfect, but that I don't really think like that...do you understand?"
Garrett, annoyed with how she'd struck at something of a sore spot in his own character, grimaced as he looked away. "I...suppose I can understand that."
"R-really?" He felt Merrill's eyes on him, full of hope.
"Yes..." Garrett sighed, rubbing his eyes. "And I suppose it makes sense that you weren't prepared to defend yourself, but only me, and I'm...aware that Dhavine was perceptive and convincing like no mortal could be..."
"Y-you do...?" Merrill's voice was now filled with hope...and Garrett found himself annoyed and amused by that in equal measure by that.
Garrett, still looking away, gritted his teeth, struggling to hold on to his reluctance. "Yes..."
"So...so you forgive me?"
Looking back to Merrill, Garret found his arms dropping to his side as a sigh escaped him. The elf's big eyes looked up at him with so much hope, fear and guilt...he didn't even know eyes were capable of such a vivid show of emotions. "I...suppose I do, yes."
A little squeal escaped Merrill, the elf launching herself at him, small arms wrapping tight around her waist as she buried her face in his chest, the impact nearly knocking his breath away. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
Err...
Awkward, not really used to shows of affection, at least outside the family, Garrett tentatively put his hands down on her shoulders, unsure where he otherwise should put them. "You're welcome?"
Merrill didn't answer, nor let go, she simply kept her face in his chest as she hugged him with surprisingly strong arms, a pleased sound escaping from her, though it didn't seem to be words.
Right...I...okay...
Carefully, Garrett moved the hands a little further down, tentatively putting them on Merrill's shoulder blades as he tried to think of something to say. Varric would probably have said something like... "Still not paying you though."
A laugh escaped the elf pressed against him, a laugh and a suppressed sniffle of relief. "I don't care."
The answer made Garrett smile.
Then, as she reluctantly pulled back, a smile on her face, Merrill looked past Garrett's shoulder...and her jaw dropped, eyes somehow turning even larger. "I...didn't even notice...look at all the books!" She pulled back even further, head turning left and right, jaw still hanging open. "It's amazing! Where did you get all of them!? How!? There's enough to fill an Aravel! There's...why didn't you show this during the tour!?"
"It wasn't furnished by then." Garrett replied, finding himself still smiling. "I only just got it finished, though I haven't read anything in it yet, sadly." He inched towards a bookcase, leaning his shoulder on it as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching Merrill move to the one closest to the door. "I know you like learning things, but I thought Dalish traditions were mostly oral...?"
"They are! But that doesn't mean I can't love written knowledge!" Merrill reached for the nearest book, then stopped herself, looking a little unsure for a moment, before simply turning her head, staring at the other bookcases, clearly overcome. "There's sooo much here...I...you could sit here for days and never finish them all."
Garrett smiled at the slight mistake in Merrill's sentence, a mistake colouring her neck red even as she continued to stare around herself in wonder. I suppose she could... "Would you like to come here and visit at times, perhaps? To read?"
Merrill whirled to face him, eyes alight with delight. "Could I!? Could I really?"
"Of course." Garrett smiled back. With none left in the family who enjoys this, none to sit with and study alongside with...no, don't think about it. "I'd welcome the company."
Again, Merrill launched herself at him...only to stop mid-stride as a shriek cut through the room.
Mother! Roughly shoving Merrill aside, Garrett pushed through the doorway and entered the main hall in time to see the woman run down the stairs towards him. "Garrett! I...Carver's things aren't in his room!"
"What!?"
8
8
8
"Carver!"
Garrett, having run the whole way, found himself out of breath as he came to a halt in the Gallows courtyard.
The walls to the Gallows were high but thin, more intent to keep people from leaving and entering at will than to defend the Circle Tower. Yet it was still an intimidating sight to have them all around you, patrolled by Templars while yet more filled the courtyard as they walked here and there in errands. The Circle Tower itself was a tougher construct, thick and imposing, a keep for the Tevinters that had once owned it. Only the fact that it was so high and sported the odd spire revealed that it wasn't just for defensive purposes.
All of that was barely registered by Garrett, his gaze fixed on his brother, a brother flanked by a pair of Templars as he headed towards the keep. The man flinched at the sound of his name, yet kept moving. "CARVER!" Suddenly angry rather than worried, Garrett marched forward, hands clenching into fists.
A visible sigh...and Carver stopped, gestured for the Templars to wait for him as he turned and moved to meet Garrett at the centre of the courtyard. The eyes of the man were a wall, not betraying any emotions...and in so telling Garrett all too much...bitterness, anger, frustration...it was the usual emotions threatening to spill out of the man. "Yes, brother?"
Suddenly aware of several people, mages and templars alike, staring at them, Garrett forced himself to slow down before he came to a stop three feet from Carver. Looking to his left and right, making sure no one was listening in, he struggled to lower his voice, turning it into a hiss. "What the...hell do you think you're doing?!"
"I'm joining the Templars, brother." The patient tone Carver was using was so out of place, Garrett found himself scoffing. "Doing something with my life."
"Really, the Templars? Of all things...you want to join the Templars?" Garrett inched closer, narrowing his eyes. "What's going on, brother?"
"There's a good career to be had as a Templar." Was Carver's non-answer, then he shrugged. "Besides, we spent years keeping one family-member away from the Chantry..." A pinch of bitterness seeped into his words. "...seems only fair they get one now."
"What? That's..." Garrett shook his head, confused. "...look, I don't understand what's going on here, but you do realise what Templars do, right?" He inched even closer. "Considering who our sister was-"
"Our sister is dead." The dull words struck Garrett like a fist, making him take a step back as Carver's blue eyes coolly looked at him. "Perhaps you've forgotten?"
"I.." Garrett, lost for words for a moment, spluttered. "I'll never forget her! I'm not...how could you even say such a thing!?"
"As you yourself say, actions weigh more than words." Carver shrugged, as if the hurtful words were of little consequence. "Not that it matters. She's dead. I'm taking a page out of your book and moving on."
"I...haven't...but..." Garrett shook his head, dazed. "Think of what you're doing, we have friends who...who..."
"Oh don't worry." Carver snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I won't tell." He cocked his head to the side. "Not for your sake, mind you, but you don't have to worry about it, that's the part that matters, right?"
Garrett grimaced. That...is unfair... Shaking his head, he forced himself to move forward, to whisper his words. "And what of Merrill? If you become a Templar she won't-"
"Oh please." Carver snorted, taking a step back. "You can't have it both ways. You can't tell me not to court her and then trying to use her as an argument to make me reconsider..." For a moment, some doubt flickered behind his eyes, but noticing Garrett's gaze, he narrowed them." Don't try to use her against me, she's not...I...I could do better for her by making sure the other Templars never find her."
Sensing the man's hesitation, Garrett inched closer, trying to push the pain from Carver's previous words aside as he argued. "And what of mother? This'll break her heart you know."
The doubt in Carver's eyes instantly evaporated though, replaced by anger. "Oh I don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to comfort and support her just fine...not like she or you remembers loss all that long, right?"
Garrett took a step back, a pang in his chest. "B-brother, why are you...saying these things...?"
Carver looked away, though his mouth was a bitter line. "Does it matter any more? My explanations are never good enough, my reasons never good enough, I'm never good enough...I don't want to argue with you, I don't want you to try and persuade me like you always do...in fact, you can't." He raised his chin. "I'm making my own life now. I'll prove my worth on my terms."
"Is that what this is about?" Garrett grimaced, all too aware of Carver's need to prove his skill in combat...and now that the man mentioned it, how little he'd had the chance to do just that. "Brother, I can have the Viscount knight you, I...you could be the captain of the guards hired to protect our merchant caravans...you could...you could hunt down the outlaws and...and..."
"Oh yes, you'd get me knighted, you'd make me captain, you'd dress me up, let me parade around and think I've accomplished something?" Carver snorted. "I'm not an idiot, brother, nor am I some servant of yours you can keep at your beck and call."
"I never said-"
Carver advanced, a finger shooting out to thump into Garrett's chest, the man's eyes flashing. "You never do, you just assume." Shaking his head, the man lowered his hand. "I did my part in protecting Bethany, that's over now...why won't you let me lead my own life?"
"B-but w-we're a family..." Garrett, not sure how to reply, only managed to mutter the protest.
Carver's shoulders slumped, his gaze weary. "Are we? Are we really?"
For a moment, Garrett just stared at him, stunned by the question. Then, he exploded. "Of course we are! We've always been a family! We've always had each other's back! We protect and love each other!"
Carver shook his head. "Not any more, not since you failed to protect Bethany."
Garrett's fist shot out before he knew what he was doing.
Carver caught the punch though, his eyes narrowing as his fingers closed around the fist. "What? You can't deny it, so you resort to violence? Is the great Hawke finally out of arguments? You're dropping to my level?" He sneered the last words, sarcasm dripping from them.
"I...I..." Garrett stared at his fist, shocked with his own actions...and pulled back, letting the hand drop down to his side as he stared at Carver. "I...brother, please...let's just...g-go back and t-talk about this. Don't...don't do anything rash..."
"Oh yes, you hate it when I do something rash, or when I do something aggressive, or when I don't do exactly what you tell me." Carver snarled, finger once more shooting out to poke Garrett in the chest. "You hate it when I'm myself...and I accepted that, for Bethany's sake...but she's not around any more.." Another poke, harder this time. "...is she?"
Garrett, standing thunderstruck, found his lower lip quivering. "B-brother...all I've ever done is try to pr-protect all of us...I...wh-what did I ever do to make you hate me so...?"
"Too late, brother, you don't get to try and repair things after years of neglect." Carver snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Enjoy your wealth, I hope it makes up for the family you destroyed."
Again, Garrett's fist lashed out.
This time it struck nothing but air as Carver ducked low.
Pain!
Gasping, Garrett fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as all air fled his lungs.
Towering over him, Carver coolly looked down at him, yet the flash of satisfaction in his eyes...seeing it hurt more than the punch itself had.
Father, I...
Shaking his head, Carver turned away. "Goodbye br...Garrett."
Again, Garrett gasped, the pain digging into his heart like black claws as he watched Carver move back to his Templar escort and a life away from his family.
As the shock of what had happened slowly receded at the sight of his brother's back, Garrett found tears trickling down his cheeks.
...I've failed you...
8
8
8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for somehow squeezing this one in.