Chapter twelve- Carver
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Carver watched his sister brushing out her hair in the mirror; she was back to her usual self despite the nightmare that had woken her in the night. She had been panting and sweating, her eyes broken and haunted but that had quickly passed. She wouldn't tell him what the nightmare was; he knew it was about whatever had happened to her all of those years ago though but he never pressed her for answers, unwilling to start an argument over such a sensitive subject.
He missed the way she had been before whatever had happened. She had been so young and free and she had their parents wrapped around her finger. They loved her, worshipped her, he had been so jealous.
His father's words still echoed in his mind to this day.
Protect your sisters, Carver, no matter what.
But he had failed. He had failed that one simple command, that last, dying wish, that promise. He had not been there to protect his sister that night. She had been missing an entire week before she finally came home in the middle of the night. She had tapped on his window and he had rushed outside to her; she had been completely naked, covered in blood and mud, and her once charcoal hair was drained of all of its colour. The memory of her looking like that… it still haunted him, still ate away at him, still made his heart ache.
"You could wear your hair down for once, you know," he said to her, looking at her through their cracked bedroom mirror.
"I'll be enjoying the odour of the Hanged Man in my hair for weeks!" she exclaimed.
"Just once sister, enjoy yourself, for me?" he replied, making his sister mutter some insult that did not reach his ears.
He rolled his eyes and then granted her a devious grin. "Imagine Mother's face if she was told you were dating a guard," he cajoled, a threatening smile on his lips.
"Imagine mother's face if she found out you were trying to stick your man parts in every whore in the brothel," she countered, making Carver wince at her choice of words.
"Go for it, saying and doing is different sister," he said, bluffing.
She turned and grinned at him wickedly, "Why the change of heart? Is it because of Merrill? I saw you staring, don't deny it!" she laughed, making Carver blush with embarrassment.
He did not want to admit it to his sister, but he had found the little elf woman they had met the other day to be somewhat beautiful, in an endearing sort of way. She was not alluring or sexy like their Rivaini companion, Isabela, but had a delicate, innocent beauty that Carver thought was rare in women around these parts.
His silence only spurred his sister on as she retorted, "You have an elf fetish!"
He frowned at his sister's words; she was always interested in his love life but never even thought about her own. She was young yet she acted so old and reserved, he knew that whatever had happened that terrible night had changed her, and he admired her for carrying on every day; her bravado was one to be commended.
But she was weary of other men getting close to her. He knew that she used mother and himself as an excuse for these actions but what would she do when they had carved their path and sat on a mountain of gold? Surely she must have realised that mother would want her to become a noble as she was once? Mother would want her to find a good rich husband and would be expecting her to give her grandchildren, the same applied to him of course, but he had no problem with such things. It would be a well-earned break from the hell that he had to endure these last two years.
He had seen her a few days ago when she and the elf had accidently touched, she had jumped away as if he was a hot iron branding into her skin and he was a mirror image. They had a lot in common it seemed, more so than that possessed bastard mage that was constantly trying to get in her good graces. He did not like the way that Anders stared at her; it was almost possessive.
He would rather her sleep with Varric than Anders, that was true, but he just wanted his sister to live a little. Yes, she experienced fun in the slashing of daggers and blood but she he had never seen her once truly enjoy herself in an environment that did not consist of bandits, demons or whatever thug crossed her path.
"So are you going to honour your bet with Varric?" he asked his sister, throwing her a wink as she shot him an annoyed look.
"Yes, I will. But if that is the first thing the damned dwarf asks me to do as soon as I step inside tonight, I promise you I'm going to write my name in his chest hair with my daggers," she joked, although Carver didn't doubt that she would do so.
She started readying her amour for her to put on for the evening, making him frown. She practically lived in armor, she was worse than Aveline.
Can't she just for one evening enjoy herself?
"Sister, we're just going for a drink why don't you wear something more comfortable?" Carver asked, watching her expression become incredulous.
"Carver, we almost always get attacked near The Hanged Man, plus I have nothing nice to wear," she replied, he knew she would make excuses straight away but having spoken to Mother this morning he was certain the excuse would become void any moment now.
As if his own thoughts had summoned her, their mother walked into the room with a smile on her face and in her arms she held the package that had been the main topic of discussion for them this morning.
"I found that in the old crate you brought when you recovered the will from the old estate," Mother said, her eyes twinkling with pride as she handed it to Aria.
Aria unravelled the package with uncertainty in her eyes to find it was a gown.
His grin was so wide it almost touched his ears as he looked at the gown. It was simple, a crimson red with a small black bow in the centre of the chest, it was plain enough to wear to go out in without causing a stir. It also had red slippers to match; he chuckled smugly, watching her face as she tried to get of the situation but couldn't think of a proper excuse to give to Mother without her dying of shock at the fact that they were being attacked sometimes on the way to or from the local tavern.
He almost laughed as he watched his sister squirm for a moment; she was well and truly backed into a corner with not an excuse left to fight with. She could do no more than accept it and she knew it too.
"Thank you, Mother," she said, placing a kiss on mother's cheek.
"Well come on, I'll help you put it on Aria and goodness let's do something about this hair," their mother said almost gleefully.
"Mother, I don't really want to-" Aria started but her mother silenced her immediately.
"I always did this with Bethany, I miss it," her mother pleaded quietly.
That made his older sister's mouth clamp shut. All mother had to ever do was mention his twin sister and Aria would suddenly go quiet. He knew that she blamed herself for her death, and she should have realised that it was his fault. He had failed father twice it seemed, but he would never fail him again. He missed Bethany so; it had felt like a part of him had died with her that day that the ogre had taken her from them. Sometimes he had nightmares of the ogre throwing her around as if she was nothing but a ragdoll.
Together he and Bethany had been whole, two people thinking as one. It was one of the many joys of being a twin Mother had told him.
He pushed all thoughts of Bethany out of his head and watched as his mother fiddled with his older sister's hair, braiding it loosely. He smiled as he exited the room, knowing that even though Aria was furious with what mother was doing she would not dare disappoint her.
He sat at the table for a few moments, watching the mabari move in his slumber.
He wondered if Merril had settled well in the Alienage, and decided he would go see her.
"C'mon boy, let's see how Merrill's doing in her new home."
The hound shot up enthusiastically and followed Carver outside.
Tonight would be a good night.