Chapter fourteen- A wayward son and a Hawke's rescue
Huge thanks to everyone who's read my story, I feel it's really helping me improve my writing. I am so sorry for the lack of updates, I've moved home recently and have been sorting a lot of stuff out. Forgive me!
I adore my beta, enchantm3nt for putting up with me and making this story amazing.
As always, hope you enjoy.
Her body was broken; she could feel every bruise, cut and burn that stained her skin. They took her in turns, thrusting themselves on her and having their way with her time and time again. It didn't bother her as much as it had on the first day. Their leader had been waylaid, it seemed, for one of them had said before he broke her that they would be here by morning. It had been three days and they did not let her sleep; all of them wanted to satisfy their frustrations on their apostate sex toy. They didn't say much to her, and the words she did catch were groans as they came in her. How these, Templars, could treat her in such a way when they were sworn to protect her kind, to watch over them and protect them from themselves and others, was beyond her. Perhaps this was the will of the Maker, perhaps magic was a curse and perhaps this was all she was good for: a good fucking. Surely, if the Maker was just he would stop these bastards, stop the men that had killed her father agonisingly slowly, stop the torment, the torture, the endless rape she had so far endured.
If there was a Maker, he was a twisted son of a bitch, for nothing was worse than this.
Hawke shot up from her bed, dissolving the same nightmare that always plagued her. She rubbed her forehead, trying to banish the headache that was already coming on and groaned. Maker why did she drink so much? She mentally cursed the pirate and the shots she had supplied the group last night, noting that they were not Corff's usual diluted ale. She put her head back down on her mouldy pillow and tried to go back to sleep again, but after minutes she realised that the nightmare had defeated all chances of that happening.
"I know you're awake, Aria," Carver grumbled from his pillow.
"Well you don't have to be, go back to sleep," she whispered sternly, eyeing up her brother's silhouette in the darkness.
"Mmmpht,"
She rolled her eyes at Carver's sleepy groan and decided a walk would clear her severely hung over head; she tiptoed out of their bedroom not wanting to wake anyone else up, beckoning the mabari as she departed from the hovel.
She wondered what she could do at this time as she walked round the city with her mabari, Spike, who seemed to be happy just to get out of the claustrophobic hovel she was forced to call home. He wandered round sniffing aimlessly as enjoying the new smells.
Anders would be asleep or working at his clinic, Aveline would also be sleeping or working. Varric and Isabela would cut off her tits if she even tried to wake them up before dawn. And Fenris… she stopped mid-thought remembering her drunken flirting outside the tavern the night before and winced as if the memory had given her pain.
Spike looked at her with his head cocked to one side as if questioning her expression.
"I did something stupid, okay?" Hawke explained at the dog who huffed at her as if to say when aren't you?
Hawke rolled her eyes at the overbearingly intelligent hound and continued her walk. She was terribly drunk yesterday; she had the hangover to confirm it. But she may have overstepped the line when it had come to Fenris. Sure, she had always returned compliments with smiles to not offend the person that gave her them but she did not see anything with anyone going further than those compliments. She did not think she had the strength for that; her heart had become so cold since her had father died.
And yet, all it seemed to take was a lot of alcohol to overlook all of her defences and she became almost like Isabela. She stopped again and cringed, making Spike bark at her for stopping. The bark sliced into her like a knife. She could not face Fenris so quickly after last night, perhaps he thought she was just as bad as the pirate who blatantly said to the elf yesterday that she found him delicious and wanted a piece of him.
She wanted to cringe and stop again, but feared that the mabari would bark a war cry so loud that she would shatter into a thousand pieces.
She neared the grand tree that the city elves called Vhenadahl towards Merrill's house, knocking on the door as quietly as she could. The alienage houses were smaller than Gamlen's hovel and were more ramshackled together with not even the space for windows and just enough for a tiny wooden door.
Merrill was half-asleep when she greeted her, but invited her in enthusiastically, ushering her to the table and offering her a drink.
"Couldn't you sleep, Hawke?" Merrill asked, concern colouring her question.
"No, but you'll soon understand I never really can," Hawke replied, watching Merrill look for another cup for Hawke to drink from. It seemed the poor elf only had one, and Hawke felt a pang of pity for the Dalish woman; Hawke had always thought she had it bad, until she came to what Merrill called a home. She could see where Carver had started mending the roof, but as she viewed the other holes that were dotted on the ceiling she doubted that what the house needed was repairing, more like it needed rebuilding.
"Its fine, Merril. I'll grab a drink later, or we can share a cup I don't mind, honestly," Hawke reassured the elf who had become almost frantic looking for another cup for Hawke.
"I'm sure I bought two cups yesterday! I was so sure!" she said, panicking, looking around the dingy room as though the cup could have wandered away on its own.
Merrill sighed as she sat down opposite Hawke, a yawn escaping her mouth, confirming her tiredness. "I can leave if you like, Merrill, you can go back to bed," Hawke offered, stroking Spike as she watched the elf let out another yawn.
"Oh no Hawke, please stay! You never told me how you really got to know Tamlen!" she exclaimed, flashing an endearing smile.
Her smile was infectious, for Hawke found that she smiled back.
"It was many years ago. You passed Lothering and spent a few weeks near the town; I was out walking with Spike and Tamlen was watching me," Hawke said, a grin colouring her face as she remembered Tamlen.
"You must have gone quite far away from the city for you and Tamlen to cross paths," Merrill said, taking a sip of her cup of water and offering it to Hawke who shook her head at the elf's unorthodox kindness; she had been joking about sharing a cup but she soon realised Merrill hadn't taken it that way.
"I often wandered away from the town, it felt nice to walk away from the scrutiny of the Templars from time to time," Hawke answered, smiling at the fond memories of walking in the woods and embracing the serenity of the woodland. "But I knew he was following me, so I led him to the clearing in the woods where the river runs."
"And? Did you confront him?" Merrill asked, entranced in the story.
"More like he confronted me, he realised that in the clearing there was nowhere else to hide so he walked out of the shadows. We stood there in silence for a moment before he told me that it was very late and it wasn't safe for a girl such as me to be out at such an hour. I thanked him for stating the obvious and that I would be fine as I knew the woods. He then stared at me and told me my hair was nice," Hawke told Merrill, a euphoric smile on her lips as she reminisced. She could almost smell the wet grass and summer flowers that filled that clearing.
"Your hair is very pretty, Hawke," Merril agreed, giving her a kind smile.
"Believe it or not, Merrill, my hair wasn't always like this," Hawke explained, repaying her with a grin, "I had the same colour hair as Carver, back then,"
"Your hair is pretty Hawke, I don't see many shem with the same colour as you, just old ones,"
"Another story for another time maybe," Hawke replied bluntily, not wanting to discuss anything to do withthe origins of her hair. She wrinkled her nose in discomfort, hoping the elf woman would deter from her curiousity.
"And then after he complimented you two became friends?" Merrill asked, going back to the previous conversation they were having.
"No, I saw he had a wound on his arm and healed him, he bowed and thanked me and we sat next to the river and talked for some time."
"and after that?"
"I saw him every evening at the same spot for two weeks, on the last night he came to me and told me they were leaving; I almost asked to go with him. I was just a young girl then, I thought I knew everything even though my father tried to point it out to me otherwise. He was a dear friend to me, but I knew I could not leave,"
"He disappeared many years ago, me and a friend and Tamlen journeyed into the forest on the rumour of a ruin that was creating some sort of taint amongst our clan. We found an Eluvian -a relic of the old ways- and I watched him disappear right into it. It's why I left my clan, Hawke; I can just feel that I can bring him back from the mirror. He can't be dead, but not only that, if I can make it work I could restore the history of our people," Merrill monolgued, pleading with Hawke as if she wanted her understanding or her blessing.
Hawke would give her understanding, for she knew if she could bring Bethany back she would siege the Black City and ascend the stairs to face the Maker with her blades ready without a second thought. But she couldn't give Merrill her blessing, Merrill had already proven just how far she was willing to go to help her people… talking with demons, blood magic, it made Hawke uncomfortable and she wasn't go to encourage that.
"Merrill, Tamlen is dead. You know this to be true, he was so stubborn; he would have made his way back to your people by now if he was still alive. I want us to be friends, I have great respect for the Dalish, but I am not comfortable with your use of blood magic and I do not like you talking to that demon." Merrill tried to open her mouth, probably to tell her it was a spirit but Hawke shot her a look and kept talking, "I don't want you to be driven mad by this or worse to become an abomination. If that happens, Merrill, I will have no choice but to cut you down, do you understand?" she said as softly as she could.
"I… understand," Merril concluded with a nod.
"Well, c'mon then," Hawke said, standing up.
"Why? Where are we going?" Merril asked, confused.
"If me and my dear brother are helping you fix your roof, then maybe we should go get two cups so we can all have a drink," Hawke said, flashing a wide smile at the elf who returned it gratefully.
The market area of the Alienage was bustling with people as the traders set up their stalls and prepared for the long day ahead. Hawke's eyes caught sight of a glint of silver and she instinctively grabbed Merrill and ducked behind a stand. Hawke peered around to look at the Templar speaking with a pleading elven woman.
Hawke hid her magic well, but she took appropriate precautions around Templars out of habit and by now she was comfortable enough to be around them with her pretences but Merrill stuck out like a sore thumb and she would not allow anyone, Templar or not, to take someone she called a friend.
"I am sorry for your loss mistress, but I can only offer your son mercy unless he turns himself in," the bearded Templar said, his voice was stern but gentle.
The ginger elven woman pleaded to him, "I am trying to find him but-"
The Templar interrupted her, waving his hand to stop her. "The Templars cannot tolerate apostates."
The elven woman nodded tearfully, and the Templar turned swiftly and walked out of the Alienage. When the Templar left, she began to cry loudly, though no one came to comfort her.
The sight of the crying woman tugged at Hawke's heartstrings. She couldn't help but picture her mother in such a state should Hawke be taken to the Gallows. She'd probably end up regretting it but she stepped forward and cleared her throat. The elf looked up at her, slightly startled, her eyes teary.
"It sounds like your son is in trouble, is there anything I can do?" Hawke asked, watching the woman wipe away her tears.
"You…you heard all of that and you still want to help? An apostate? Oh thank you…" the woman replied, still wiping away her tears but looking at Hawke gratefully, "I am Arianni, my boy, Feynriel… he is all I have. I learned he had magic and I could not bear to send him to the Circle," she sobbed again, wiping her tears with her hands.
Hawke rooted around in her pocket and found a small handkerchief that was slightly dirty and offered it to the woman who took it thankfully.
"But his connection to the Fade, it gives him nightmares. He dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself," the woman said, wiping her heavily tattooed face clean of tears once more.
"What exactly do you wish me to do, Serah?" Hawke asked the woman politely, not wanting to press her for too much information lest she start crying again. Hawke hated it when people cried, not because it was awkward, but because she had not cried for nearly seven years now and just couldn't feel as compassionate towards people who cried so freely because they wore their hearts on their sleeves for all to see. In her eyes that was one of the greatest weaknesses there was.
The woman widened her eyes at Hawke calling her Serah, but replied, "Just find him, please I don't know where Feynriel has gone, but there are two places that you may start your search. Ser Thrask has been looking for him, if you go to Gallows he may be able to tell you the ground he has searched. And Feynriel's father, Vincento, recently returned from Antiva; he is trading in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynriel may have sought his father out," she pleaded with Hawke, her eyes beginning to water again.
"I will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary," Hawke confirmed, looking at the woman, empathetic to her plight.
"Magic is a gift, your son deserves a chance to harness his power," Merrill finally interrupted, looking at Hawke almost admirably. Hawke found Merrill endearing and sweet to say the least; it was no wonder to her that her brother liked her despite her choice of magic.
"Thank you, it has been a long time hiding, it is a relief to finally confront this," Arianni sighed, her tears ceasing at Hawke's promise of rescuing her son.
Hawke merely nodded her head and walked away from the woman with Merrill in tow. She would need to speak to the Templar, and that would mean going to the Gallows, which meant she'd need some sort of back up or distraction.
"Merrill, go to the Hanged Man and wake Varric. Spike, go home and get Carver," she commanded, her pace quickening, she already knew where she was going.
"And what will you be doing, Hawke?" Merrill asked, confused, as she stood next to the mabari who held the same expression as the Dalish elf.
"I am going to get Fenris," she stated, walking up the stairs to Hightown.
She kept to the shadows on her way to Fenris' mansion, hoping she wouldn't run into any trouble along the way. Her methods proved effective and she was soon at his mansion. She crept in through the dusty entranceway, her breathing the only sound she could hear. She wondered if Fenris was here at all; perhaps her drunken flirting had scared him off? She walked up the stairs and headed to the master bedroom, hoping to find him within.
The bedroom was dark, and she could not hear nor sense anyone in the room. She tried to readjust her eyes to the darkness but before she could a blade whirled her way towards her throat, inches from slicing her skin.
"State your business," he growled, the lyrium glowing slightly. In the light of the lyrium he saw that it was her, and lowered his weapon slowly, glaring at her.
"Hawke, I do not like being woken up unceremoniously, have you ever tried knocking?" he said, his voice heavy with sleep but still sarcastic nonetheless.
"Why is it that everyone seems to be persistent with training me into this whole knocking business," she huffed dramatically, raising her arms.
"Maybe they are merely trying to teach you manners so one day somebody will not slit your throat in panic," he replied, rubbing his head as he sat down on one of the armchairs that were by the fire.
"Ah, hung-over are we, Fenris?" she asked humorously, eyeing the elf as he continued to rub his head as if to massage his obvious state away.
"I have had worse," he stated, glaring at her once more.
"I thought you might have left," she replied, trying to make her tone indifferent to the fact when truth be told she was glad he was still here.
"It seems I was persuaded otherwise," he said, his lips turning up only slightly, but Hawke got the impression it was a half-grin.
"Indeed, anyways I was wondering if I may borrow your sword today," she asked, trying to be polite at the elf's bluntness. She knew Fenris was not the way he was by choice, and she knew that feeling more than most.
"You can borrow it if you wish, Hawke, however I doubt you could lift it," he replied, ceasing to rub his temples he looked up at her with a dark humour on his face.
She almost laughed at Fenris' jest, but her hangover had not fully left. Instead she grinned at him and replied, "Fine, I would like to borrow you for the day if you do not mind; I have a job and you'll get a fair split of the coin."
The elf looked at her with an unfathomable expression on his face; he was extremely hard to read which irked Hawke. She was good at reading most people, yet Fenris' face was almost always a mask.
"If this job entails your pirate friend and me sating her every desire or fantasy that she seems to have with me, then it is not worth all the coin in the world."
She laughed at that, remembering Isabela's advances on Fenris the night before. "Well, Isabela is going to be disappointed it seems she has taken a liking to you,"
"It seems she was not the only one last night," he replied, a grin truly on his face as he reached for his mug of water on the floor.
She wrinkled her nose, it was a habit she could not get rid of since childhood, whenever something happened that she did not like or felt comfortable with her nose would take over her face and wrinkle with discomfort.
"Indeed, alcohol makes some people rather loose lipped," she said, trying to stop the conversation from steering towards her drunken flirting last night. She hoped he wouldn't tell anyone about it; Varric would have a field day.
He nodded, making her almost breathe out a sigh of relief.
"If you need me, I will come, Hawke," he said, his eyes locking into hers for a moment. His gaze made her feel as if she was burning, but not in an uncomfortable manner.
"Thank you, as I said you will get a fair share of the coin," she said.
"What does the job entail?" he asked, looking at her dubiously for a moment. She must have sounded strange repeating herself and not explaining the job to him.
"A mage has run away in fear of his own power, his mother has asked us to commandeer him and get him to go to the Circle where he can harness his power," she explained, watching his features as he raised one black eyebrow at her.
"You would put your own kind in the Circle?" he asked, shock being the main factor in his voice.
"If I thought them a threat to the city… if I thought that the Circle could help them control their magic, then yes. But as of right now I don't know enough about the situation to decide such a thing," she replied around the lump in her throat as he watched her with eyes full of scrutiny.
"All mages are a danger," he hissed at her, the lyrium had finally had dulled down so there was nothing but the dark. It made her feel somewhat more comfortable at being alone with the elf who hated mages; at least the shadows were on her side.
"Everyone is a danger, but the path you choose is what dictates whether you're a danger, do you think I'm dangerous because of what I am, Fenris?" she asked, although she already thought she knew her answer.
"No, but that could change at any time," he replied, his voice serious.
"And could that not be said the same of you?" she replied, her wit lacing her voice as she empathized the word you.
They stood in silence for a moment, she wondered if he would even dignify her with a response to her argument.
"Yes, it could," was all he could reply, it seemed.
She wasn't sure why she cared enough to argue about any of this, she usually didn't give a crap what others thought; her heart was too icy for that. "Then don't judge so harshly, you may think I am naïve but I am not," she said and he nodded at her.
"What are your leads on this apostate," he said, and his use of the word apostate stung her in a way. She did not let him see that it bothered her, she wore her mask so well it had become who she really was these days, unless alcohol was involved, it seemed.
"We are heading to the Gallows to speak to the Templar who has been searching for the boy, and then the boy's father who he hasn't ever met, these are the best leads we have for now," she replied, her voice taking a neutral ground.
"You go to the Gallows so freely? What if they apprehend you?" he asked her as he got up and moved the dusty curtains, letting light into the bedroom. She screwed up her eyes for a moment, trying to make her sight readjust to the light.
She looked at the elf that stood before her, a scowl on his lips as he questioned her. She would never say it out loud, but Isabela was right, the elf was indeed attractive, maybe not as much as Isabela exaggerated like she had last night. His white lines almost glowed without him commanding them to in the rays of light. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, she was foolish. She could not distract herself from the task at hand, she did not have the time nor energy for men, especially men that dressed themselves in spikes that screamed stay away from me or I'll make you eat your own heart.
"I would, the Templars don't even regard me, it seems, they all think I'm an annoying smuggler and that's about it," she replied, snapping herself out of her trail of thought by the elf's scowl turning into a full blown glower.
He gestured towards the door, nodding forward without replying to her. She found it odd, but maybe he had nothing to say and his life as a slave didn't teach him the simple mechanics of starting and ending a conversation.
They went to the Hanged Man and found that Isabela, Varric, Merril and her brother were waiting for her. They all greeted her with a smile apart from her brother who gave her a stern nod. She rolled her eyes, she knew he was annoyed that she went to Merrill's on her own, and that he was even more annoyed that she went to get Fenris without anyone with her, Fenris had made his hatred of mages quite known the last few days.
"Varric, Merrill, are you ready to head out?" she said, nodding at the dwarf and the pirate who lounged in their chairs casually as if they were about to go on a picnic rather than a man hunt.
"Merrill's not going; I am, sister," Carver said, his eyes glowering at her.
"Carver, I am a big girl and I am not scared to go there on my own," Hawke said, not wanting her brother to come along. She was sick of being almost coddled by her brother, ever since…
Ever since Bethany had died.
"I am not letting you walk into the blighted Gallows without me. What happens if you get taken?" he said in a hush tone, his eyebrows furrowed displaying the same Hawke stubbornness that they both possessed.
"I'm barely a mage, they wouldn't even bother with little old me," she said, trying to make the situation lighter.
It only made her brother more annoyed; he gave her a scowl that rivalled the one that Fenris had thrown at her earlier.
"Junior, I'll be there and I'll make sure Hawke stays away from the men with the shiny stuff," Varric joked, aiding her attempt at lightening the mood.
Isabela barked out a laugh at Varric's statement, obviously thinking it was ridiculous to insinuate that Hawke would even dare go near a man's shiny's.
"Even so, I will be accompanying her," he said it as if it were fact and Hawke rolled her eyes in defeat.
"Well, if that's what you want, brother dearest, then so it shall be," she said, dipping into a low bow at her brother who shook his head at her dramatics, "but I will not be blamed for having my way with the men and their shiny armour," she said adding a wink whilst she got up from her bow.
"Hawke, you make life a lot more fun to be around," Varric chuckled, strapping Bianca on his back as they made their way out to the gallows…
The Gallows courtyard was full of Templars, as she had expected. Kirkwall was a city, much larger than the rural town of Lothering, when she grew up she knew of only five Templars that were based in the farm town. But Kirkwall, on the other hand, had a small army of them. They watched the mages around the Gallows with cold eyes, watching for any one of them to crack and become a demon's vessel.
She entered the Gallows with a feigned manner of confidence, this was the largest gathering of Templars she had ever seen and it put her on edge. She looked around to see if she could recognise the Templar that was speaking to the elven woman in the Alienage, but had no luck. She observed the Templars and the mages for a moment longer, looking for their leader.
"I have heard of the Circle outside the imperium but I have not been in one," Fenris said, looking around the gallows courtyard that was littered with old imperium slave statues with curiosity. His eyes cast around the many Templars that were flashing them suspicious glances and turned to Hawke, "are you sure it is why for you to be here?" he asked, his eyes darting around the Templars as if watching for them to notice Hawke.
"Yes, like I said I'm just here to speak to Thrask," she replied once again looking around the Gallows.
She found a man stood near the stairs, his arms were crossed and he viewed everyone in the courtyard with great scrutiny as if watching to make sure protocols were being done correctly and routine was in order. She had a gut feeling that this was indeed the leader she had been looking for, and made her way towards him.
"This seems more like a prison, I wonder if it is more effective than the Circle I know," Fenris murmured more to himself than Hawke, but she still replied to him.
"The Circle is necessary for some," she whispered, approaching the Templar leader.
"Hello, I was wondering if you could aid me, Serah, my name is Hawke," she introduced herself, bowing slightly at the Templar that stood before her. He had rugged manly features, and donned stubble on his face. He was still young, but she could tell by his eyes that he had seen many things in his short time on this world.
"Serah Hawke, I must say you are not quite the ten foot ogre eating man that I have heard so much about," the Templar said, bowing slightly. He was quite knightly it seemed.
"No, I am afraid I am not, Serah, you should know better to listen to rumours," she said, returning his bow with a confident wink. The Templar had not seized nor screamed apostate at her, so she knew that her years of practise had fared her well.
"I am Knight Captain Cullen, and I try not to. I find myself happy to see you are the complete opposite of these rumours, although none of them spoke of how lovely you were," he said, giving her a small smile.
She pursed her lips and smiled at him, knowing when to back down on the banter to make sure no one thought she was flirting back. She resisted looking at her brother or Varric or she would most likely go red to her roots, he was something that Isabela would have described as dreamy. She cursed herself for being around the pirate too much.
"I thank you for you compliment, but I have not come here for your delightful conversation. I am looking for Ser Thrask, I have taken up a request from Arianni of the Alienage and was wondering if he could assist me in my work," she explained, becoming business-like.
"Delightful indeed, Ser Thrask is speaking with Sol the herbalist,"
"I thank you, Ser Cullen. Good day," she said, bidding him farewell. Before she could move another step he grabbed her wrist whilst she turned, sending waves of panic into her body. She turned around expecting him to clap in her in irons to be amongst her kind.
"I was wondering, the next time I escort the recruits to the Hanged Man, if I may have the honour of buying you a drink?" he asked, smiling at her none the wiser to what she truly was.
"I would like that, Serah," she said, nodding a farewell and walking towards the herbalist's stall.
She heard Carver and Varric snicker, and turned around with a faint warmness on her cheeks. Fenris' face seemed indifferent to what had happened. Maybe, he thought nothing of the flirting she had participated on him yesterday and thought nothing of what happened. Maker, she was giving him the impression she and Isabela were very alike.
She wrinkled her nose at her overthinking and then eyed her brother and the dwarf with disdain.
"Yes? Is something amusing?" she asked, eyeing the dwarf who smiled up at her sweetly.
"Just me and Junior laughing at the irony of the possible outcomes from that drink," Varric said, his eyes twinkling under Hawke's stern gaze.
"Nothing will come of it, thank you, but I thought it wise not to deny him given his status and what I am and what I want to do and with whom is nothing to find funny anyway," she snapped, making her brother and the dwarf laugh a little more. Her eyes glared over to Fenris, and she saw even under his mask of indifference the corners of his lips turned up slightly.
"Can you imagine it if they got married?" Carver snorted, still chuckling with the dwarf.
"I wish it would happen, can you imagine his fucking face! I think I found my next novel, the apostate and the Templar," Varric snickered.
She rolled her eyes and scowled at them, making them both shut up abruptly. At least they knew that when she scowled it meant the time for joking was over.
Thrask was speaking to the herbalist, Sol, animatedly, almost as if they were good friends rather than Templar and mage, it was odd for Hawke to see a sight like this, there was always general animosity between the two sides and her family were living proof of it. Lothering was the place they had stayed the longest but her childhood had been moving from one to place to another with barely any personal possessions. Father only ever allowed them to take essentials.
She coughed politely whilst she stood next to the Templar she had seen earlier today.
"Good day, Serah, I hear you are the Templar pursuing Feynriel. I have agreed to help Arianni in the pursuit for her son and was wondering if you had found anything significant regarding him," she said politely, once again giving the Templar a low bow.
The man had kind eyes, she noticed as he looked at her. He was far from the stereotype that she had come to believe all Templars were. He nodded a greeting but was altogether suspicious of Hawke, as he had every right to be. He told her everything she needed to know however, and when she exited the Gallows she felt somewhat relieved that she was not clapped in irons ready to take her Harrowing that very day.
They went to speak to the boy's father too, he had some distrust of their group when they first approached him but Hawke must have sounded sincere to him because when she vowed he would not be harmed he told her everything. He spoke quickly and Hawke found it rather hard to understand his heavy Antivan accent, when she left after bidding him good day she had to ask anyone if they got any of that.
"You are veeery preeetty lady, si?" Varric said, trying with great difficulty to copy the man's accent.
"Varric, that was terrible, I don't think I can talk to you for a while after that," Hawke said, rolling her eyes in mock-disgust at the dwarf.
"So, all we have to do is wait until night fall and find this ex Templar. Fenris you don't have to come with us, if you don't want to," she said, looking at the lyrium laced elf; Templars were renowned for taking lyrium to aid them in their skills, and an ex Templar would be suffering from extreme withdrawal, having had his supply cut off. It would surely be unwise to bring Fenris to such a person.
The elf gazed down at her with an annoyed expression on his face, it seemed he did not work out what she had. He loomed over her for a second and then became the figure of indifference once again. Maker, he was tall for an elf!
"I am able to fight, Hawke," he said, his face stoic.
"Yes, I know that very well, I have seen you. But I do not want you going to an ex Templar with lyrium withdrawal, he'll be able to smell it from a mile away and you're ahem, hmm, how do I phrase it. He could start to get a little edgy if he works out what your tattoos truly are," she explained to him, not wanting the man to come into harm's way, this was not his plight and it seemed he had only just grasped his own freedom, she didn't want to make him more hunted, especially if this Samson had a lot more ex Templar friends.
He shot another expression at her, his face as always unreadable.
"I thank you for your concern, no matter I will come with you I doubt he would be able to extract anything from me," he said, a cool confidence in his voice.
"Fenris, I don't want you in harm's way," she started to say, but he raised a clawed hand in defiance, signalling the conversation had ended.
"I hate that this job involves so many blighted Templars," Carver huffed more to himself than anyone, but Hawke found that she agreed terribly.
They walked towards the alleyway in Lowtown that led to Darktown just as it had begun to get dark, and found the ex-Templar Samson to be the complete opposite of what she had expected, from what she could decipher from Vincento's heavy accent. He was pale and was very unkempt, his eyes sunken in from the obvious withdrawal to the lyrium.
"Huh, Vincento said someone come sniffing around," Samson said, his voice raspy as if he were in need of a drink, "you're looking for the boy, Feyn something?" he added, eyeing up Hawke suspiciously.
"Indeed I am, Serah, since Vincento has obviously told you everything," Hawke said, watching the man's fingers as they twiddled and grabbed at thin air. Oh he could definitely smell the lyrium in the air, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it.
"I'll tell you now, there's not much I can do for you. There weren't much I could do for him either, lad was dead broke, not a copper to his name, can't be helping one mageling for nothing, I won't be getting paid again. So I pointed him to a ship I knew, under command of Captain Reynar sometimes hell take 'em on. Might have gone wrong though, might be taking him captive instead," he drawled, not seemingly bothered about the safety of the boy who had come to him for help.
Hawke's eyes narrowed at the pathetic excuse for a man as he stared at her blankly, not even so much bothered that her temper was starting to get the better of her. She wrinkled her nose but even that motion was denied by her temper.
"What do you mean might?" Hawke hissed, disgusted in this pitiful excuse of a soldier from the mighty order of the maker. He made her feel sick.
"I just drop 'em off away from Circle, don't care what happens next. My jobs done, ain't it, said the same to other mage that asked for my help with no coin last week" he said, his sunken eyes boring into hers. "You got any dust?" he asked her, eyeing their belts for even a sniff of lyrium.
"No, I do not have any dust," she sneered at the man, whose hand movements were becoming frantic. "Do you have any idea where he could be now?"
"Reynar would have put them in his foundry warehouse 'til his business is complete,"
"And what will happen to them when his business is complete?" she asked, restraining herself from ripping the man's head off. How could someone be so uncaring? She looked at his hands again, they were practically vibrating. It seemed his addiction for lyrium had eaten away his very soul.
"He'll probably sell them with rest of cargo," he replied.
That was it, she could not hold in her rage any longer. The fact that these mages and other innocent people were going to be enslaved and sold like boxes of fruit and this man had just said it so casually you would have thought he was merely remarking on the weather. After traipsing round for information all day she had truly had her last straw. Fenris' growl explained exactly how she felt towards slavery.
"Fucking arsehole," she said to Samson as she turned to storm off, he didn't seem even dazed by her insult.
"So now what?" Varric panted, trying to match her pace as she walked quickly away from the Templar.
"What do you fucking think, dwarf?" she asked him incredulously, as if he was asking a very obvious question.
"I guess we're off to rescue some damsels?" Varric asked, although he already knew the answer.