This chapter isn't much, really. Just an end to act one, paving the way for the next. A bit of resolution, but every chapter gets us a little closer to finally getting these two crazy kids together. Thanks so much for reading, and thank you reviewers, you inspire me to keep writing! Thank you!
xxx M xxx
"Home sweet home," Varric says with a sigh of relief, gazing up at the weird, oversized human-shaped thing dangling by its feet over the door of the Hanged Man. "Finally. I wonder if Bartrand came back to the city. You think I'd be that lucky?"
Hawke turns towards him, responding almost automatically to his voice, her eyes dark and sad and angry and without any trace of their old joyful spark of blue flame. They've been that way all the way back to the surface, ever since she... ever since Carver died.
"I don't care about Bartrand. Revenge isn't exactly the most pressing thing on my mind right now," she says flatly, her face hard as she looks at him with reproach. Varric winces at her tone, as though she screamed it at him. But she doesn't blame him, doesn't he realise that? It's not him she's angry at. It's herself. She still believes it was her fault, no matter what I said to her. I couldn't make her feel better, couldn't find the right thing to say. Of course I couldn't, no different than usual, really. Foolish of me to think I could help.
Varric casts his eyes down, looking chastened. "I know. I'm... sorry about what happened to your brother. If anyone is to blame for all this, it's me. I got you into this whole Maker-blasted expedition in the first place. And I should have seen Bartrand's betrayal coming. I swear, I'll find that maggot if it's the last thing I do."
She sighs, her expression softening, and shakes her head. "Varric, I'm not blaming you. It wasn't your fault. None of us could have foreseen what would happen." He nods slowly, though he doesn't seem convinced. Or perhaps he doesn't think she's really being sincere. It seems a lot of people get confused about that, apparently. I suppose I'm glad I'm not the only one who can't always tell. Not that I'm up to feeling glad about anything at the moment, really.
"Hawke is right, Varric," I say, although I keep my gaze resting steadily on Hawke. "No one is to blame. For any of it." That includes you, lethallan. Please believe me. She meets my eyes for a brief moment, then looks away, letting her head drop dejectedly. Her short hair falls in a curtain across her eyes, but not before I see a glistening tear trace a silent path down her cheek. Oh, Hawke... She turns away from us, towards her uncle's house, though her gaze remains fixed on the dusty ground.
Varric glances up at her despondent figure, noting the way she's facing, and then shares a concerned look with me. "I imagine you'll be heading home to... tell the family..." he asks hesitantly.
She lifts her head slowly, staring at the house at the end of the street, the house where her mother is waiting inside. Waiting for her children to come home. "I don't have much choice," she says, her voice bleak. She looks away, turning back towards us. The look on her face stops my heart. I must have let it show somehow; she blinks in surprise as she looks at me, and then she wipes her expression, replacing it with a small, tight almost-smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I just have to get through it, and then... one day at a time, I suppose."
Varric tugs uncomfortably at one of his earrings, apparently at a loss for words. Under different circumstances, I suppose I might find it curious, Varric being speechless, funny, even. But not now. Varric drops his hand, looking up at Hawke sympathetically. "You'll be a wealthy woman, Hawke," he says, his tone consoling. "It wasn't all for nothing." I squeeze my eyes shut briefly at his ill-chosen words, sighing without sound. Oh, Varric, I know you mean well, but I really doubt that will help. He opens his mouth as if to say something more, then shakes his head a little, thankfully thinking better of it. He picks up the pack of gold and relics lying at his feet, and then opens the door to the Hanged Man, giving us a slight wave as he disappears inside.
Hawke stares after him with a stricken look on her face. "I'd give it all for my brother's life," she whispers. I take her hand in mine. I don't know if she meant for me to hear her, I don't think so, but I take her hand anyway. She squeezes my fingers tightly, and gives me the faintest suggestion of a fleeting smile. I think there's just a bit more warmth in it, this time, though.
"Thank you, Merrill."
I smile for her, as best I can, and I think I see something change in her eyes; just for a moment, a flash of fire reignites the flame briefly in their blue depths. Well, that's a little better. "I'll walk with you to your house, Hawke. I can find my way to the alienage just fine from there, don't worry." I glance up nervously at the twilit sky above. "Although it would be easier before the sun sets completely. Everything looks so different at night, it gets very confusing."
She nods in quiet agreement, still holding my hand, and draws a deep breath. She starts to move slowly down the lane towards her house, and then suddenly stops mid-step, standing dead still in the middle of the street. I gaze up at her in concern.
"Hawke?"
She takes a moment to answer, eyes still fixed on the distant house. "No... no, let's... let's get you home, first." She tears her gaze away from the house and turns slightly to look at me."I'd feel better making sure you're safe at home before I do anything else." Her words are reasonable, her voice calm, but there's an underlying note of pleading in her tone, begging me not to argue, not to question. So I won't. She's not ready, not yet. I understand.
"Alright, lethallan. Thank you," I say quietly, and she breathes out with something like relief and turns rapidly despite the heavy pack on her shoulder, keeping a tight hold of my hand, leading me quickly in the opposite direction. She must be taking us the long way back to the alienage. At least, I think that's what she's doing, I'm still not very good at finding my way about in Lowtown. Or anywhere else, really. She must not want to go past her house yet, in case her mother sees her, I suppose. I take a few running steps so that I'm walking by her side, not tripping along behind her, and she slows her pace, glancing at me apologetically. I shake my head a little and smile before she can say anything, it doesn't matter, and we walk together in silence through the back streets of Lowtown, not speaking again until we reach my door and go inside.
It smells a bit odd in here. Although I suppose it would do, after being shut up for so long while I was away. I take a quick look around as Hawke drops her pack by the door and bends down in front of the hearth, lighting the fire. Everything looks the same, just as I left it. Looks like I haven't been burgled while I was away. Not even a little bit. How disappointing. They still must not like me, then. Even so, I'm pleased to home, which is a strange feeling, really, being glad to be back here. Oh, and I just thought of this place as 'home', didn't I? Hmm. Well, I suppose it is, now.
Hawke stands, jolting me abruptly from my inner ramblings, and sits wearily on the bench before the newly kindled fire, her back to the flames. She looks so forlorn. She's thinking about Carver again, she must be. If only I could help her. I wish I knew how. I move to sit next to her, twisting my hands awkwardly together in my lap. I have to try.
"I just wanted to say again that I'm so sorry, Hawke." She turns her head to look at me. I bite my lip; her eyes are so sad. "Carver will be missed. The blight sickness is terrible. At least he didn't suffer."
Hawke closes her eyes at my words, but nods, once. "Thank you, Merrill. This... isn't easy for me." She looks at me again. "I'm glad you're trying to help."
I am trying, I really am. "I wish I could do more."
She reaches out so that she can lift one of my hands from my lap, and holds it in her own, offering me the barest flicker of a real smile. Still, it's better than anything she's managed so far. Her fingers rub gently along an old, fading scar across my palm, one of many. It makes me shiver, a little. It feels nice. I don't think she quite realises she's doing it, though. She seems very... distant, I suppose.
"The hardest part is still coming," she says after a moment, her eyes straying to the door. She looks sadder than ever, if that's even possible. "I still have to give my mother the news when I leave here."
"I know, I'm so sorry, Hawke." Poor Leandra. She's always been so nice to me, so gentle and kind and generous. I can see where Hawke gets it from. She doesn't deserve something like this; neither of them deserves it. Leandra will be so upset. More than upset. "Elgar'nan! She will be devastated! Oh... I'm not helping, am I? Shut up, Merrill." Creators, did I really just say that? Out loud? No, Merrill, you are most certainly not helping. That is definitely the complete opposite of helping! Hawke's gaze snaps to mine at my careless exclamation, her eyes full of dread and hurt. Creators, Merrill, what have you done? Fix it, make it better, say something, anything! "I'm sorry, I didn't mean... If there's anything I can do, like... not talking anymore, I'll do it. Only, first..."
I place my other hand gently on her shoulder, holding her eyes. If she won't hear me this time, I doubt if anything I could say would help. If I could just make her feel a little better, see a hint of hope in her eyes again... "Lethallan, please. Listen to me. You can't go on like this, believing it was your fault. It wasn't. Carver chose to come with you, you didn't force him. It was no one's fault, what happened. You did the only thing you could."
Her hand jerks in mine, but she doesn't let go, and she doesn't look away from me. "I doubt my mother will agree."
"Leandra is a good woman. She will understand."
Her eyes are bleak. "Eventually, perhaps."
I won't let her keep doing this to herself. "She loves you. She will be hurt, of course she will, but she will see the truth. It was not your fault." I lean closer to her, to look straight into her eyes and make her believe me. "No matter what, I'm here for you, Hawke."
The smile Hawke gives me reaches her eyes at last, making them shine. It's a real smile, the kind that makes my heart flutter in my chest. "I know. That means a lot to me." Her smile doesn't fade; in fact, I could swear it only grows wider as she gazes at me. "You've been wonderful through all this. Thank you, Merrill. For everything."
"You don't have to thank me. You've done so much for me."
Hawke leans over abruptly and kisses me on the cheek, then hugs me tightly. My heart skips a beat at her touch, and I hug her back happily, though I feel a little guilty for enjoying it so much, right now. She holds it for a long time before she finally lets me go and stands, going to her pack and pulling out a large bag of gold coins. She comes back over and offers it to me. I stare at it, confused, and then look up at her quizzically. She smiles at me again. At this rate, my heart is just going to stop completely.
"It's your share," she explains patiently.
My eyes widen, and I glance sharply at the bag she's holding out to me. "My share? But this was your expedition, Hawke. I didn't expect-"
She thrusts it into my hands, silencing my protests with a firm shake of her head. "You were a full and highly useful member of the venture, not just along for the ride. You earned this. It's yours."
I weigh the bag in my hands, holding it gingerly. "I-I've never held so much coin."
She hefts her pack on one shoulder, adjusting it as she walks back over to stand in front of me. "Neither have I. It will take some getting used to, won't it? Mind you keep it somewhere safe and don't spend too much at once; we don't want you attracting notice and getting robbed blind, now, do we?"
"I'll be careful, Hawke." Hmm. I do have something worth stealing, now. Perhaps I'll finally get burgled! A proper alienage greeting. Although I'd rather not lose my sight as well. How would someone do that, rob me blind? I didn't know there was such a thing as an eye-thief, why would anyone want to steal them? And I would have thought I'd see it if someone tried to take my eyes right out of my head. They'd have to be very good to get away with it, wouldn't they? I bet Isabela could do it, though; she knows a lot about... thiefiness. And I did hear her tell Fenris that she would like to pluck out his eyes and make a necklace, because elves have such pretty eyes, but... she was only joking, wasn't she? At least, I thought she was. People don't really do that, surely; it's probably just another one of those expressions I don't get. Perhaps Hawke is right, though; I should hide the coin, and try not to attract attention by spending it all. Although... I could get a lot of books with this. I found a wonderful stall in the market before we left for the Deep Roads that had all sorts of books, even some very old ones on magic, although I doubt the merchant knew exactly what he had. Surely if he did, he wouldn't sell them so openly for fear of the guardsmen, and the Chantry, and the Templars and all. I wonder if he's still there? Maybe he's even got some... some dirty books, like the ones Isabela keeps showing me. Stories about men and women, women and women, and the things they do together... She has a big collection. Lots of them even have pictures. She shows me those the most; she says she makes me look at them because she loves it when I blush, and I suppose I do, but some of them are really quite fascinating, and anyway, it isn't really the pictures that make me blush, exactly. It's the ideas they put in my head, and the images, not of the women in the books, but of...
Hawke clears her throat gently. I jump, startled out of my imaginings, and look up at her. She raises an elegant eyebrow at me.
"I know what you're thinking, Merrill."
I feel my face getting hot, and let out a small, nervous giggle. She doesn't really, does she? She can't. Mythal, please no, it's too embarrassing! "You do?"
"I know you too well," she says seriously. Oh, dear. I hold my breath apprehensively as she looks at me, a knowing expression on her face.
"You're going to spend the whole lot on books, aren't you?"
Oh. I give her a bashful smile, feeling a surge of relief that she doesn't realise what I'm really thinking. And yet somehow, oddly, I also feel disappointed. Sometimes I wish she could see inside my head, then she would know, at least, and maybe she'd... but it's foolish of me to even dream that she might share my feelings. A human with an elf... One of the elvhen, hopelessly in love with a human. Marethari would tell me I should be ashamed, I'm certain, in that terrible angry tone of hers that makes me tremble right to my bones. Dalish aren't meant to love outside the People. I'm supposed to preserve who we are. My clan would be outraged if they knew what I feel... not that they could be any more angry with me than they are already, I suppose. And it doesn't matter. They don't know. Nobody knows. Hawke doesn't know, and if she did, she wouldn't... It can't possibly come to anything.
Hawke tousles my hair in an affectionate manner. A friendly manner, I suppose. Of course.
"Just please promise me that you'll use some of it to buy food, won't you?" she says, a trace of her old wonderful humour back in her voice. Hearing it instantly makes me feel a little better. She can always make me feel better. I wish I could say I can do the same for her.
"I will, I promise." She nods in satisfaction and strides over to the door, and stops, hesitating for a moment; then she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders resolutely before she moves to open it.
"Hawke... "
She pauses, turning to look at me, her hand on the doorknob. I meet her eyes across the room.
"You'll be alright, won't you?" I ask her worriedly.
She looks at me for a moment, and then smiles gently, a real, warm, beautiful smile. "I will be, thanks to you." Oh! She gives me a little wave, and opens the door, stepping out into the lonely quiet of the alienage. I get one last glimpse of her graceful form silhouetted in the waning light, lingering for a moment on the threshold, before the door shuts quietly behind her, and I'm alone. I'm not sure what to do with myself, now.
I hear a metallic clinking and look down, realising I'm still holding the bag of gold in my hands. There's so much! Hawke is so generous. This could feed and clothe my whole clan for a year, at least. It's certainly more than I need for myself. Perhaps I could give it to them? Although I doubt if they'd accept it from me. And I don't want to go back there alone, not without having accomplished what I set out to do, at least. Not until I can prove myself to them. To the Keeper. And Hawke is probably going to be very busy now, taking care of her mother, and getting them a home away from her grumpy uncle, and all. She won't have time to go wandering off to Sundermount just because I'm afraid to face my clan by myself. She probably won't have time to see me much at all, soon.
I shake my head to stop my miserable thoughts and stand, walking into my small bedroom, dropping the gold onto my bed before kneeling and lifting a loose floorboard beneath the little table against the wall. I reach in and carefully draw out the cloth wrapped bundle I hid before I left, just in case anyone actually did decide to rob me. Not that I think anyone would steal something like this: they would see it only as a piece of broken glass, but I didn't want to risk it being broken further. I hold the fragile shard of the eluvian reverently in my hands before placing it gently on the table and picking up the bag of gold from the bed. I hide the bag away safely in the dark hole, slipping out a few coins before I replace the floorboard carefully. I can use the money to get some more glass to join my shard to, and then use blood magic to bind and transform the new glass into the same curious unreflective substance as the broken piece, just as the... the spirit taught me. And of course, a mirror needs a frame, doesn't it? Perhaps I can find one in that strange underground shop in Darktown that Hawke took me to once. It had a lot of odd things in it. I'm sure I'll find something I can use. If I don't have Hawke, then at least I have the eluvian to keep me company. I can lose myself in my work, and maybe I won't really notice if she isn't around so much, if I don't get to see her every day, hear her lovely voice, and see her beautiful smile, her blazing eyes. Maybe I won't miss her as fiercely as I do already. And she only just left. Creators.
I pick up the shard again to distract myself, and feel a raw throb of old, old magic pulse beneath my fingers. It responds to my touch, even through the protective layer of cloth. I can sense the power of it, even inside this small piece. And something else, like a... a presence, a consciousness, although it doesn't seem wakeful. Still... it's almost as if it calls to me, even through its slumber. Perhaps it somehow senses that I am a descendent of the ancient elvhen mages who made it? Maybe it is aware of my intentions. It will take a very long time to mend, even with... help... but I am sure it will be worth it. The knowledge contained within this eluvian could bring back so much to my people, so much of who we once were. I must restore it; it is my place to recover our lost heritage. It is my duty.
I carefully unfold the little bundle of cloth and stroke a finger gently over the smooth, cool surface of my eluvian shard, examining it for a moment, before I slowly reach for my belt knife and draw it, the blade glinting wickedly in the light of the fire. The eluvian shard throbs eagerly in my hand.
I have quite a lot to do.
xxx H xxx
I close the rickety door of Gamlen's house softly behind me, sightlessly gazing over the roofs of Lowtown as the dawn light creeps over the horizon, bathing the world in a blood red glow. Fitting. I take a step forward and stumble a little as my deeply fatigued body betrays me, reminding me suddenly that it has now been at least full day and night since I rested. But I can't succumb to sleep, not yet. This isn't over, not for me. There's still something I need to do, someone I need to see, and I doubt I can put my mind at ease until I do.
Night had almost fallen when I left Merrill's home, a dangerous time to be wandering the streets of Lowtown alone, but I met no one as I made my slow way back to Uncle's house, not one Coterie member, or even a Sharp. A pity. I wouldn't have minded an outlet for my grief, my anger. My guilt. I know what Merrill was trying to say to me had truth to it; she doesn't know how to lie. Just being around her eased much of my sorrow, and soothed my heartache. Hearing the conviction in her words and seeing the light of truth shining in her eyes helped me more than I could tell her, but even so, deep down, the guilt remained, no matter what she said. I still feel it. I'm not so certain I shouldn't.
Mother is sleeping now, at last. She cried inconsolably for hours after I told her. It took me a long time to be able to tell her everything without breaking down completely myself. She shouldn't wake for hours yet; her mind has retreated into the deep silent sleep of exhausted grief. I left Gamlen to watch over her, but now I need someone to talk to, someone who knows, who understands. I start down the steps in the half-light, walking slowly past the Hanged Man and taking a right through the market, heading towards the steps to Hightown. I keep seeing the awful homecoming scene in my mind, replaying it endlessly: The joyful look on Mother's face as she saw me come through the door; the love and relief in her voice as she greeted me, replaced by anxiety and fear when she saw I was alone. The knowing dread in her voice as she asked me, haltingly, where Carver was. The look, Maker, that heartbreaking look on her face when I told her he wasn't coming back, that I had lost him, failed him... There were tears, and recriminations, as I expected. She blamed me for Carver's death, just like she blamed me when Bethany was killed defending her from that Maker-damned ogre. She apologised quickly once she came back to herself a little, telling me she didn't mean it, clutching me to her tearfully, but it still hurt very deeply to hear her say it. There was more truth to her accusations this time; I could have prevented it if only I had forced him to stay behind. That's what hurts the most. I could never have reached Bethany in time to stop her, but I could have kept Carver safe. I could have. Instead I had to put him to the blade myself. There's only one person I know who has been in my situation, who could come close to knowing what I'm feeling.
The sun is well and truly rising as I finally reach the Hightown market square and turn my steps towards the Viscount's Keep. She'll be awake, pacing in her new and well-deserved office, worrying furiously over the problems of the city, even this early. Ever the dutiful sentinel of the city: ever alert, ever on guard, her stern, unyielding exterior shielding a sensitive soul and a warm heart. She may not wear it on her sleeve but I know she cares deeply, for those under her charge and for all the inhabitants of Kirkwall. It's what will make her a magnificent Guard-Captain. And it's one of the many reasons why I respect her greatly, and value her as my friend.
The man on guard by the great door of the imposing old building nods at me familiarly as I climb up the last of the long run of stairs to the Keep. "Serah Hawke. It's good to see you."
I nod back in recognition. "Guardsman Donnic. Well met. Do you know if Aveline is about? I know it's early..."
He barks an amused laugh. "Not for the Captain. She'll be in her office. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she never sleeps! Uh, not that I know better from, uh, personal experience, you understand. We all live, work and sleep in such close proximity in the barracks, that's all I meant, of course." His face reddens. Any other day, and I might find it intriguing, but as it is, all I want to do is get inside.
"Of course. Do you think she'd mind me interrupting her?" I ask to distract him, trying to spare the poor man further embarrassment.
He smiles gratefully, and hastens to answer. "The Keep isn't officially open to visitors and petitioners this early, but I'm sure Aveline... uh, the Captain, I mean. That is, I'm certain she'd be happy to see you. She's been quite worried about you, and your Deep Roads excursion. I for one am glad to see you're back."
I haven't been able to really smile again since I left Merrill, but I attempt to give Donnic a friendly grin in return, unconvincing as it must be, and give him a word of thanks as he lets me through. A good man.
I make my way through the hallway and up the small stairs in the strangely quiet anteroom, the conspicuous absence of servants, guardsmen and petitioners giving the place an odd, abandoned air, as though I've entered an old ruin, or touched the otherworldly echo of this place in the Fade. I almost feel as though I can expect to be accosted by demons at any second. I shake off that last deeply unsettling thought and walk down the hall towards the barracks, my footsteps ringing eerily through the silent corridor.
The door of her office is wide open, and sure enough, there she is, fully armed and armoured, as always, standing behind her desk and staring down at the massive pile of paperwork littering the gleaming wooden surface with a look of utter disgust. I lean in the doorway and watch her for a moment. All that administrative waffle must really be pushing her to the limit if she hasn't yet noticed my presence. Can't say I blame her; if it was me, I'd probably end up burning the lot and just claiming I never got it. I doubt I'd last very long in the position after that. She continues to remain unaware of my scrutiny, engaged as she is in a one-sided staring contest with an inanimate pile of insolently indifferent manuscript.
Eventually I decide to simply announce myself. "Every time I come in here you tell me there's nowhere you'd rather be. Right now you look as though you'd rather be anywhere else."
She looks up, startled, and then lets a glad grin spread over her features as she sees me. It softens her, when she smiles, makes her look younger, gentler. Less overburdened by a world rife with villains, thugs and puppy kickers. "Hawke! You're back!"
I push off the doorframe and step inside, closing the door softly behind me. "A far cry from beating down brigands on patrol, hmm?"
"I still get to do that too, if not as frequently as I would like," Aveline says, stepping out from behind her desk and striding over to clasp my hand in hers. "It's so good to see you."
The abject look of relief on her face is mirrored in the tone of her voice; and made painfully obvious in the pressure of her fingers as she holds my hand in a tight, crushing grip, shaking it warmly in as much of a display of affection as she ever gives. She must have been concerned indeed, to let her feelings show so openly. I feel a stab of guilt for being the cause of her unease. "Guardsman Donnic said you have been worrying about me."
She releases my hand, eyes widening a little, and crosses her arms across her chest. "Oh, did he, now?"
"I'm sure he didn't mean to overstep his bounds-" I begin worriedly, but she shakes her head to stop my words.
"No, no, that isn't what concerns me. He was right, after all. I just hadn't realised I was being so obvious." She sighs, leaning back against the edge of her desk. "You have had me quite anxious, I admit. I had heard that most of your expedition had returned, but without you and the others. I investigated, of course, but was met with either ignorance or silence. I was about to summon the courage to tell Leandra that you were considered missing." She smiles warmly at me again. "I am glad you all returned safely."
I wince, recalled abruptly to why I came, and look down briefly before I slowly lift my gaze to meet her eyes. "Not all."
Her smile slowly fades, a fleeting look of apprehension crossing her features before being replaced by her cautious mask of stoicism. "Who?" Aveline asks eventually, her voice quiet.
I take a breath, steadying myself. "Carver."
She closes her eyes, and then steps forward to grip me by the shoulder in sympathy. "Maker. I'm sorry, Hawke." I can only nod silently, suddenly not trusting myself to speak. She guides me over to a small table in the corner near a window, and motions for me to sit, waiting until I've mastered myself before she speaks again. "What happened?"
I tell her the whole story, matter-of-factly as I can, at first, everything from the discovery of the thaig and Bartrand's betrayal, to the hunger demon's deal, the passage back to the Deep Roads and the rock wraith's treasure, finally ending with our laborious ascent through the Darkspawn filled tunnels and our discovery of Carver's condition. My voice suddenly fails me at this point, and I take a moment to control my emotions. Aveline doesn't comment. There is a tight look around her eyes, betraying the terrible memories my words must be reawakening for her, though she listens quietly, waiting patiently until I can go on.
"We were days from the surface. He couldn't keep going, and I could do nothing for him. He asked me to..." I hesitate, and then force myself to continue speaking past the lump in my throat. "He asked me to end it for him."
"So you did." There is no question in her voice, but I answer anyway.
"Yes."
"At his behest."
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly at the memory. Please, sister. "Yes."
"But you still blame yourself for his death. Worse, you feel as though you murdered him, because it was you who struck the blow."
I'm a little taken aback at the bluntness of her words, but I nod, unable to meet her eyes properly. She remains still for a few moments, regarding me silently, expressionless.
Finally she speaks again. "I have a question, Hawke." Oddly, her voice is lighter, almost conversational, as though we are speaking of a more pleasant topic. I'm not sure what she's doing, but the strangeness of it causes me to look up at her sharply. She holds my gaze, engaging my attention completely, which is probably just what she intended.
"Do you remember what we talked about, when you came to see me right after I was named Captain?"
"I asked you why you blamed yourself for what happened to Wesley," I respond immediately. I don't even have to think about it; I know exactly what she's referring to. It's not the only reason I came to her, but truthfully it is the main reason I'm here. I remember what she said almost word for word "You said that despite the fact that he asked you to do it, you still feel that you let him down. That you knew in your head that it was right, that you had to, but that in your heart, the cut was cruel."
Aveline lifts an eyebrow slightly in surprise. "You recall what I said very well."
"Your words had quite an impact on me," I tell her softly. "I didn't understand then, but now... I believe I know precisely what you meant."
She reaches out to grip my arm firmly where it rests on the table. "Then remember what you told me; you can't take the blame for the Darkspawn horde."
I shake my head in denial. "It's not the same. That was a Blight; there were Darkspawn everywhere then. You and Wesley were just caught up in it, just trying to survive and get away from them. Me, I led Carver into a bloody warren of Darkspawn, all for the sake of what? Wealth? Riches? Gold coins and trinkets?" I stare at her, my voice taking on a wild edge. "I got my little brother killed for that?"
She stares back, unwavering, uncompromising. "He knew the risks, Hawke, you all did. And having talked with him about it myself, I know he wanted to go with you. It was his choice."
I still can't let the guilt go, no matter how much sense her words make. It's still weighing me down, a crushing load of shadow resting heavily on my heart."I should have left him at home. At least then he would still be alive."
Her hold on my arm tightens to the point of pain, and I get the distinct feeling she'd like nothing better than to shake some sense into me. I half wish she would. "Perhaps," she replies, keeping her voice level. "And perhaps someone else would have died instead. Perhaps Merrill, or Varric, or anyone else you chose to take. Or you. Perhaps all of you. Would that have been any better? We can't know what might have happened if things had gone a different way, we can only speculate. And 'what if' is a question with enough possible answers to drive anyone mad." Aveline leans forward, speaking with complete certainty. "Ultimately, Hawke, Carver's decisions were his own, and you were right to let him make them. He was your younger brother, true, but he was also a grown man, a soldier, and he was certainly not a child. You showed him how much you valued him by taking him with you. He would have been very unhappy with you had you left him behind."
Andraste, she's right about that. I smile a little. It's getting easier to do so, now. There's less of a weight in my chest. "That's an understatement. He would have been absolutely livid with rage. Maker only knows what he would have done to get back at me."
Aveline squeezes my arm again, in a much more friendly way this time, before releasing it and leaning back. Her next question is spoken hesitantly, reluctantly. "How is Leandra?"
The weight drops firmly back into place. "Devastated."
Aveline merely nods resignedly. "To be expected. She will be alright, Hawke. You both will. It will take time, for you especially, to come to terms with this. I understand how you feel right now. But you will get through, and overcome, as I did."
I sit quietly for a moment, considering her words, and my burden of guilt slowly eases, lifting just a little. It's not gone, not completely, but it is easier to bear, now. And she's right. We will get through. We have before. I give her a grateful smile; small, but genuine. "You've really helped me, Aveline. Thank you." I rub my chin reflectively. "It is odd, though."
Aveline gives a little laugh, raising her eyebrows. "Well, thanks so much for that."
I drop my hand and look at her, puzzled, before I realise how I must have sounded. "Maker's breath, I didn't mean it that way! I just meant; Varric said much the same thing to me as you, as did Mother, eventually. Merrill said it several times." I smile again just thinking of her. "She was so earnest I almost managed to make myself believe her. But somehow, even though I knew they were right, it took hearing the same words from you before I could really accept them."
"You mean, because I went through the same thing?" she asks, her face impassive once again.
I tilt my head in a thoughtful manner. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it was hearing it spoken in a tone of such absolute authority."
She breaks into a pleasant smile and laughs again, a little louder. I grin at her, still feeling a little amazed that I'm able to. She looks at me curiously once her laughter dies down, an odd expression on her face. "You know, I am a little surprised you came to me about this. I understand you must have felt a connection to this with what happened to Wesley, but..." She trails off, leaving her question unspoken. I'm not quite sure what she's asking. Why would she think I wouldn't come to her for advice?
"It's not just because of Wesley," I tell her, trying my best to answer without knowing the question. "You're also my friend. I value your opinion, and your counsel. I imagine this is what it's like to have an older sister I can turn to when I need someone with a more experienced perspective, who cares about me. Someone I can trust."
She smiles at me again, looking pleased, and perhaps a bit relieved, as well. "It's good to hear you say that. Although I will let that 'older' comment go for now." I rub my neck sheepishly. Well, you are older than me, I can't help but think, though I don't dare point it out at the moment, since it seemed to bother her. I may file it away for future reference in case any opportunities for light teasing present themselves, however. It's quite hard to find anything that actually makes Aveline tick. All in good natured fun, of course.
"I did wonder if you wanted to be rid of me." Aveline says suddenly, and I look at her sharply. Whatever would make her think that? She notices my confused gaze, and shrugs a little, glancing down. "You have been keeping yourself rather distant since I became a guard, and even more so now that I've been made Captain."
I open my mouth automatically to deny it, and then slowly let it close, reflecting. Maybe I have been, at that. "I... you're right. I hadn't realised. I'm sorry." I think for a moment, trying to sort out an explanation for my actions in my own head before I can give one to her. I truly hadn't meant to behave that way. Still, I should have realised. "It's just... I've always been, shall we say, cautious around law enforcement figures, being what I am." My gaze flicks automatically over to the door, cautiously making certain that it's firmly closed. "An illegal mage."
Her face is calm, but there's a flash of hurt in her eyes at my words. "Wesley was the Templar, not me. You're the closest thing to family I have, Hawke. I wouldn't turn you in. "
"I know that," I assure her quickly. "But I didn't want to... I don't know, jeopardise your position, I suppose. Associating with apostates, abominations, blood mages and pirates does put you in rather an uncomfortable position, doesn't it? By all rights, you should be locking us all up, or worse. I don't want you to be conflicted between your duty to upholding Kirkwall law, and loyalty to your friends. And sometimes..." I pause, wondering if I should bring it up. I know how perceptive she is, and I doubt she'll let it go if I do. Well, perhaps she shouldn't. After all, having come this far, why not go further and clear the air completely? I throw caution to the wind and continue. "Sometimes what you don't know won't get either of us in trouble."
She frowns, eyes sharp as she looks at me, and I can almost see her connecting the threads. "You are referring to that... business... with those bodies that were found in Lowtown," she says, and I nod slowly, apprehensively.
She regards me silently for a moment, taking time to weigh her words before she speaks. "Hawke, as I've said, I consider you family. And I take care of my family. That is what matters to me above all else. The same is true of our little rag-tag group. You bring out the best in all of us, and that's what I see in them now, even if I'm not necessarily comfortable with all of their actions and choices. Particularly those of... a certain shameless member of your misfit collection." I barely manage to smother a chuckle, turning it into a cough as I hear the unspoken name in the disapproval and grudging affection that tinges her voice.
Aveline ignores my efforts with quiet dignity and continues. "As for the incident in Lowtown; none of those men had family, at least none who cared overmuch about their absence, nor did they have anything good to say of them. The case is cold; as far as anyone is concerned it was simply a shady back alley deal gone wrong. Let me be blunt. You've said you trust me. I am not interested in apportioning blame; I am certain that those men deserved the punishment they were given, even if it was vigilante justice. Now that we've spoken openly I understand why you didn't come to me first, and why you didn't confide in me afterwards. I suppose the way I approached you may have been misconstrued, but I assure you, my interest now is simply the concern of a friend; for you and for Merrill. Was I right that she was involved?"
I hesitate, considering how much to give her, and then decide to tell her everything. She's right, after all, and I know she does truly care for Merrill's wellbeing. I should have come to her before. I would have, if we'd had this talk earlier. I take a breath. The memory is always fresh in my mind, as though it happened yesterday. It was such a close thing. Knowing that makes the telling even harder.
"She was walking home from the market, alone. A group of men attacked her. They... They beat her, and they were going to rape her." My hands clench into fists and I tremble with rage at the memory. "They were going to rape her, Aveline! All of them. They would have killed her. I heard her scream, and ran to find her, I was almost too late; they had her on the ground, had her clothes ripped off and... But I got there, I stopped them. The first two bodies you found, one was holding her down for his friend. I killed those two that night, and the others who were... waiting their turn... they ran off."
The fury in her eyes must mirror the vengeful wrath in mine, but she doesn't let it distract her. She presses me for more. "So theirs were the bodies that turned up the next night, then. Did you-"
"I killed them. I couldn't let them hurt anyone else. I hunted them down and killed them. It wasn't hard; they were all together in a pack." I meet her gaze pointedly. "They were following another woman." Aveline draws a deep, controlled breath, eyes hard, and lets it out slowly as I continue. "I drew their attention and lured them away from her, and well, you know the rest. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm not sorry for that. It was quick and clean, and better than they deserved," I finish unapologetically, fervently, then sit still and watch her, waiting for her reaction.
Aveline sits in silence for a while, apparently considering everything I've told her thoroughly before she gives me her judgement. "Well, I can't say what you did was lawful, Hawke, but I certainly won't tell you it was wrong," she says eventually.
I release a pent-up breath I hadn't realised I was holding, and then give her a sidelong look, reading the message in her carefully chosen words."You still don't think it was right, though."
"I can't afford to think like that," she says firmly, shaking her head. "But I may concede that it was... necessary. And you were looking out for Merrill. Of course I support that."
"Thank you," I say gratefully. Deep down I knew she'd react this way, but it's still good to hear it. And it was good to tell her about it, to resolve any lingering uncertainty I had over where I stand with her. Of course she'd want to help me and Merrill. I should have been more trusting, and less foolishly fearful. "And I promise if something like this ever happens again, I will come to you. It's just that when it comes to rapists..." I look away from her as I feel a sudden surge of anger, glaring fiercely at nothing for a moment before meeting her eyes meaningfully. "I don't tend to react... well."
She blinks, and gives me a measured look. I shift uncomfortably under her piercing gaze. The apostate in me still gets very twitchy under a law-keeper's scrutiny, it seems. "So I've seen. But I understand," she says after a pause, her voice soft. "I'm glad you confided in me, Hawke."
"I wish I'd had the presence of mind to do so earlier," I admit, rising from my chair to leave.
She stands as well, and walks over to the door with me. "Please don't hesitate to come to me again. I hope you won't have to, but you must admit, trouble finds you like Isabela finds companionship; frequently, easily, and at any time of day or night. If there's ever anything else you want to talk about-"
"You'll be here. I know." I clasp her arm warmly. "Thank you again, Aveline." She inclines her head and smiles before turning back to her desk, gazing at the waiting paperwork with a heavy sigh as I suppress an amused grin. Back to work, then. No rest for the decent.
I step out of her office, shutting the door behind me, and immediately have to press up against it as a file of guardsmen march out of the barracks to take up their places and relieve their fellows from night watch as the business of the Keep begins for another day. I wonder if the Viscount is in his office yet. I hesitate, wondering if I should stay. Perhaps I could try and speak to him today about buying back Mother's old estate. I catch a sight of myself briefly in the mirrored surface of a guard's chest plate and swiftly reconsider. Maker, I look terrible. Well, I haven't slept or changed my clothing since I returned to the surface. I'm hardly presentable. I'd be lucky to get an audience with Viscount's bathing room attendant, let alone Dumar himself. Maybe I'd give a better impression if I returned later, after a rest and a fresh outfit. And a bath. I'd be thrown unceremoniously into the street if I tried to see the Viscount like this, perhaps with a bucket of water over my head for good measure.
I start down the barracks corridor as soon as the guardsmen and women are gone. I walk slowly, reflecting back over everything Aveline and I talked about. I am glad I came here. Aveline was right about so many things, not just about Carver. Trouble does seem to follow me like a shadow. Thinking back on everything in this new and harsh light, I suddenly feel a deep chill of fear as I consider how much worse the expedition could have gone; in fact, it's nothing short of incredible that any of us made it out alive. It seems like such a stupid risk to have taken in the cold light of day. I can't believe I put Merrill in so much danger; what if something had happened to her? It so easily could have been her as well as Carver; Aveline was right about that, too. I wanted to protect Merrill from Templars, so I pulled her into a dark, dank pit filled with Darkspawn and demons. Was I really being protective, or just selfish, wanting to keep Merrill close? I accept now that what happened to Carver wasn't my fault, but it can't be denied that danger seems to stalk me at every turn, seeking me out relentlessly. I am dangerous to be around. I won't lose Merrill, too. She'd be better off keeping far away from me. I shake my head at myself in disgust. That's a foolish thought. You know you won't be able to stay away from her, you're not strong enough. I move into the anteroom, weaving past the first wave of petitioners making their noisy way into the Keep, and slip through the great entrance doors. I nod again as Donnic passes me, just coming off duty, and then I head for the Lowtown stairway, lost in thoughts of Merrill, and how to keep her safe. Keeping her out of harm's way is more important to me than anything, even if it means trying not to involve her so much in the hazardous tangle of my life. I certainly don't want to make her feel that I don't want to see her anymore, like I carelessly did to Aveline, but... perhaps no more foolishly risky adventures for a while. There's not really any need for them at the moment, anyway.
I yawn, suddenly feeling the full weight of my physical, emotional and mental exhaustion and rub wearily at my eyes as I start the long descent into Lowtown. It's getting hard to think clearly; I really need sleep more than anything else right now. I'll approach the Viscount about the Amell estate once I've rested, and get Mother out of Gamlen's hovel and into the sort of life she deserves. It won't make up for what we've lost. Nothing ever could. But it will make life a little easier to bear.