Chapter XV

The Calm Before the Storm

Hawke's gaze didn't budge as she caught hold of the lilac eyes that appeared at her front door. The woman had her hood pulled over, but Hawke could tell she had long, dark hair and a toned warrior's build. She wasn't sure what she felt, or if she still had a body that could feel sensations or the lack thereof. All she knew was that these lilac eyes were the same ones she had once fallen in love with. Before she could so much as utter a "hello," she felt the lyrium in her blood burn. Suddenly she was very aware that she did in fact have a body, and it was beginning to writhe in pain. Isabela grasped Hawke's shoulders and frantically tried to locate the source of pain. She looked to the stranger at the door and knew she was the cause, although she did not know how.

Isabela lunged at the strange, dark-haired woman with a dagger, but found herself eating the gravel that made up Hawke's porch. Hawke tried her best to ignore her burning veins and crawled towards a groaning Isabela.

"Why do you attract these people?" Isabela muttered as she held the wincing mage in her arms. "I mean really Hawke, I wish someone would knock on your door and deliver us some dwarven ale every now and then."

"If only the Maker were so kind." Hawke wasn't sure now was the time to be joking but she couldn't help but go along with Isabela.

The strange woman slowly pulled her hood down and let her gaze rest upon the pirate and the mage. She released the mage of her burning veins and pulled her up by her collar. Was this the Champion of Kirkwall that everyone was raving about? The stranger observed her acutely, seeking the answers that would cause her heart to breathe again.

"You are Hawke?"

Hawke nodded, transfixed again by the lilac eyes.

"Do you know who I am?"

Hawke was positive she had never seen this woman before, but her eyes belonged to Arya. Arya had been sure that her parents died, but could this woman be… her mother? Hawke shook her head just to be on the safe side.

"I'm not sure." Hawke began to feel her strength returning. "You have the eyes of someone I love."

'Love?' thought Isabela, 'so she still loves her.' It shouldn't have surprised the pirate but it did.

"You mean loved." The woman's voice was cold and forlorn. "She died following you around, or so I heard." The woman let go of Hawke's collar. "But I wanted to know what you would say about her death… about my daughter's death."

Hawke felt dizzy without the woman's tight grasp on her collar. Isabela dusted herself off and aided Hawke in standing. She would usually take off right about now, but her heart beckoned her to stay.

"Arya's mother?" Hawke was sure she was dreaming. "Then you're Arill, Arya said you were a Templar or something like one."

"In another life," Arill frowned at the memories she could no longer clearly recall, "but it doesn't matter. you will answer for my daughter's death."

"If anyone's going to answer for her death that would be me. The Qunari killed your daughter, and I'm technically the reason why they were here." Isabela was annoyed by the woman's sour attitude towards Hawke. The next time she decided to lunge at the woman, she'd take care not to make the same mistake twice, and land a good hit.

"Are you the reason my daughter was in the middle of that mess?" Arill's eyes shot through the pirate and if her resolve weren't as strong as it was, Isabela would have left the mage to deal with this maelstrom of a woman.

"Not exactly…" Isabela could technically be the reason why Hawke did in fact have time for Arya. If the pirate had given her mage any sense of security, she wouldn't have strayed with the Fereldan dog, or at least that's what Isabela needed to reassure herself of.

"Arya's death…" Hawke looked calmly into the lilac ones that turned her way, "was her own doing." The words fell with ease from her tongue, and Hawke's heart felt lighter. "She fought the Qunari bravely so that we could save Kirkwall, so that I could see the Arishok. I held her as her heart slowed, and her final request was for me to smile."Hawke's voice began to crack as Arya's last moments were recalled. "Would you like to go to her grave?"

Arill stood as silent and still as stone. She had finally tracked her daughter down to the Free Marches, and learned that she was too late just as she had been with Arya's father. She wanted to hate the woman whose name always accompanied her daughters as she began to investigate her whereabouts- Marian Hawke. Here she was and accompanied by a rather busty, beautiful woman no less. It made her blood boil, but the genuine care in Hawke's eyes was not something she had been expecting. The accounts of Hawke varied from person to person: she was beloved to some, dangerous to others.

"I wanted to bury her somewhere beautiful and open. There's a tree that shades her, and the sunset always falls nearby." Hawke took Arill's hand. "It's not too far of a walk."

It was an awkward silence that rested in between the trio as they walked towards Arya's grave. Hawke never let go of Arill's hand, and Arill felt childish for letting such contact continue. For so long she had mistrusted the touch of human's, and this short-haired mage had managed to bypass her usually hostile tendencies. It bothered her that it felt so warm and comforting; she had to stop herself from the thought of severing it with her rather large two-handed sword. Isabela eyed the blade with curiosity. There was no way that woman could move faster than a slug with something that enormous, but it didn't seem to hinder her walking in any way. Part of it was wrapped in decaying cloth, but the runes and details of the sword were stunning. The pirate grinned at the thought of stealing the woman's weapon, but had doubts when she recalled how easily she took on the two of them without so much as lifting a finger to reach for her sword.

They neared the grave, and as they stood in front of Arya's monument, Arill fell to her knees. She felt the coolness of the marble stone that was lined by plush, green grass and looked up at the monument Hawke had erected for the love she had lost. It was beautiful and strong. The weight of the sword now seemed very apparent, and the woman looked bereft of all energy, Arya would never know she had come.

"I used to spend most of my days here, laying on that marble, waiting for Arya's warmth to return to me." Hawke's voice carried on the wind. "I could not forget all that she meant to me, and I refused to believe there was happiness in this world without her. I wanted to die and rest beside her, and leave this ugly world that had taken her and so many others from me. I had forgotten Arya's last request; her simple request to smile." Hawke smiled and looked at Isabela somewhat shyly. "Arya never meant for me to live half-dead, and continuing to seek happiness is better than clinging on to the ghosts of love and warmth." She placed her hand on Arill's back, "I love your daughter, but I can no longer be in love with her. I want and need to be in love again, and I no longer feel held down by my sorrow and pain. Arya taught me how to smile in the midst of tragedy; I believe this is something she may have picked up from her own upbringing."

"Daren…" Arill choked out the words as her eyes welled with tears. "Her father was an idiot." She began to sob and Hawke pulled the woman to cry on her chest.

Isabela turned away and refused to believe that a small tear was rolling down on her left side cheek. Arya's mother had been searching for her for years it had seemed… while her mother was probably happy, without her, being a mindless Qunari convert. And Hawke's look that she just gave her was the same look she had given her at that festival so long ago-the bashful and sincere filled face that had first thrown her off guard. She eyed the kneeling women from the corner of her eye and wondered- would she ever let herself feel for someone as much as these two felt for Arya? Her heart felt an ache, but was it yearning or was it afraid? The pirate was flustered, and she felt the winds changing… a storm was heading their way.