I claim to own nothing
Andraste's tits! I curse to myself as Isabella pulls the corset strings even tighter. After hours of following her around to shop after shop she finally settled on a beautiful blue and purple dress with a corset top. The skirts were long and breezy with slits in the sides almost up to my hip. I hated it. "Just because your ass looks amazing in those leather pants doesn't mean that they look good with a skirt." The annoyance in Isabella's voice is sharp but I absolutely refuse. "With my boots its not going to matter, is it?" I retort. "Besides, if it is a trap I should be able to tear away the skirts and move easier. You are not getting me out of these pants no more than the magister is going to take my weapons from me." My resolve is firm. "Oh, darling never say never. Now getting you out of those horrid things is a personal goal of mine." She winks at me. "But you are right. I don't want anything holding you back should you need to flee." She finishes tying the corset strings and sits me down at the vanity. My reflection is a stranger. "You clean up beautifully! And we haven't even done your hair or make up." I groan and toss my head back. I let out a whiny "I don't wanna." Another giggle from Bella as she taps the top of my head with the brush she pulled out of nowhere. "I've wanted to doll you up for so long. Put that unique beauty on display." She practically sings as she brushes the knots, I worked up out of my long hair. "I've never seen hair this white on someone under the age of 50 before. Even then it's more of a steel grey." I keep silent and let her talk around my head. I don't want to talk about it. I also don't want to out right lie to my best friend. "It just began to grow in that way just shy of my 12th birthday." My voice is barley above a whisper. "That's odd. What color was it before?" I can feel the tension in my shoulders fade away. Thank the Maker. That's not the question I was afraid of her asking. "Mother called it strawberry blonde. It was a fine red blonde." I have to take a deep breath. Talking about her still hurts. "I can't even imagine that. Not with those cobalt eyes. They remind me of the calm ocean waters just before a storm." The only acknowledgement of the pain in my voice she gives me is a reassuring squeeze of my shoulder as she continues to wrestle my hair into submission. No one will ever replace Bethany. I think to myself. But I'm glad Isabella does her best. I don't know where I would be without her.
Another half hour later and she finally says she's finished with my make up. If I thought my reflection was a stranger before, then this must be the stranger's cousin. My eyes are lined in bold black lines and my lips are painted a deep red. So dark it almost looks purple. Looking at myself in the whole ensemble feels like an out of body experience. Isabella gets down on the floor, opening one of the slits in the skirt to pull my leg up so my foot rests on the chair beside me and begins lacing my boots. Maker knows I'll never be able to bend and do it myself in this bodice. As she does the door opens. Zevran and Varric stumble in. "Hey Hawke there's a fancy carriageā¦..." Zevran whistles and I can almost feel his gaze as he very obviously looks me up and down. "Look Hawke; Varric is at a loss for words. We may need to mark this date on a calendar." Isabella chuckles from my feet tapping my other leg so I can switch their positions on the chair. "I've always said you were a beautiful woman Hawke but, when you polish up a jewel damn does it shine." Zevran's lewd comment about asking how I got Isabella on her knees is ignored as I pull my sword belt across my hips.
"Do you know where the estate is?" I ask Zevran as he continues to stare. "Yes. I thought I would tag along on the carriage ride."
"On the roof?" He nods.
"Are you sure you can't come as my assistant?" I asked Varric. I was starting to feel vulnerable and exposed. Not a good way to start off an ominous secret meeting. "We've discussed this. Zevran will sneak into the house and keep an eye on things and I will be waiting just down the alley with a couple horses just in case they are needed. Zev and I looked over the building and he has already been inside just to get a lay of the land. You will be fine. Besides I doubt any pompous pampered magister will be quicker than your own blades should the need arise." He grins. "Let's see what this Pavus wants."
I barley hear the scrape of Zevran's boots as he scurries up the wall when the carriage stops. A footman opens the door for me and lowers the step offering a hand to steady myself as I step out. I barley refrain from glancing up to see if I can spot the assassin and thank the servant as he bows. A handsome young man no older than 15 walks briskly up to me and bows. "Miss Hawke, you grace our manor with your presence. I am Dorian, Magister Pavus' son and he has bid me to escort you inside." He offers me his elbow. "I must say you look as fierce as you do beautiful." I smile at his compliment and bow my head in thanks. "I must say, I am coming into this meeting rather blind. Is there anything you can tell me about your father that I might need to expect?"
"For the most part, Father is a wise and reasonable man. If he has invited you here, he probably wants something from you at least hear him out." OK surprise he wants something from me like most every body else. Hopefully whatever it is helps me to my own ends. I came here to take a life. I will not leave until after I watch the glow of life leave from my target's eyes. I feel my heart ice over as I straighten my spine. I'm barley aware of a guardsman holding his hand up to stop Dorian and I on the way through the door. "I'm sorry messare but you will not be allowed to bring your weapons inside with you." His voice is lifeless and monotone as if he could care less and there was anywhere else, he would rather be. "You're more than welcome to try to take them from me." I smile at him. The guard flinches looking to Dorian for guidance. "Well?" a sly grin comes to the boy's mouth as he taunts the guard "Go ahead and try. Someone with this amount of confidence would be formidable at the very least."
"Dorian!" A sharp voice rings from just inside the door. As the doors swing open, I feel a tingle of magic in the air. Dorian has brought himself to a half bow as a slightly older man marches right up to us. "I thought I told you boy to bring Miss Hawke directly in." "Father I was held up by this man." He motions toward the guard. "He is doing a fine job and has requested Miss Hawke remove her weapons. She seems rather against the idea." I nod agreeing. Magister Halward Pavus is a tall thin man with dark black hair that is slowly being taken over by gray. He hesitates a moment looking me up and down. "Surely surah you go nowhere without your staff." I keep my voice polite and even motioning to the long wooden branch he holds in his left hand. I also make a show of bringing my left hand up to Dorian's elbow so that he is affectively holding both of my hands well away from my daggers. The staff he wields is uninspiring and looks plain. Like he plucked a tall straight tree and just lopped off the roots and branches. There's a large rough ball of rose quartz on the top of it and nothing else. I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving. I think as I notice his grip tighten around the bark. I watch a mixture of shock, apprehension and amusement cross the older man's features as he nods. "Very well." Turning to the guard he nods with a brief "Well done." And then completely ignores his existence. Spinning on his heel he walks away not bothering to see if Dorian and I follow. Dorian chuckles at the guard's barley audible "Champion of Kirkwall."
The walk to the dining area is longer than I imagined. I must not have seen just how large this place was. It is very well furnished with red and gold everywhere. I'm sure he usually impresses others with this ridiculous display of wealth. I fight to keep my expression bored and unphased by the luxury. The dining room is just as gaudy with a table that can easily fit 20 people. Maker, please let this be a private meal. I think I would die if this hall was full of stuffy nobles and their judgements.
Dorian leads me to the farthest chair at the table from his father. Without thinking I laugh. "Is something wrong?" There's apprehension in the boy's voice. "We are here to have a nice chat and have to raise our voices to hear each other over the table?" I laugh again and the boy joins me. "Good point." He agrees as he reoffers me his elbow. The magister looks at us both as if we just grew a third eye. I politely remain standing until the Magister sits and ask Dorian if he would be joining us. Pavus shakes his head as Dorian excuses himself.
"It is a pleasure hosting the Campion of Kirkwall." He starts. His voice is thick and honeyed. Like so many other stuffy nobles I know when their words say one thing but mean another. Servants appear at our sides carefully placing the first course in front of each of us. It looks like a creamy potato soup garnished with spring onions and crumbled bacon. Let's hope this food is as good as it looks. I haven't eaten since this morning. "I am honored to have been invited." I reply cooly as I dip my first spoonful of soup. I make a show of blowing the bite to cool it and smell to see if there's anything strange about it before tasting it. His cook must be as top notch as the rest of this splendor. "But let us cut the bullshit and get straight to business. Why have you invited me here?"
Magister Pavus chokes on his bite of soup at my vulgar bluntness. His gaze finds mine as I smile at him once more and laughter erupts from the man. "They told me you were something else. Thank the Maker you prefer direct speech. My apologies serah." He laughs again. The laugh feels genuine which relaxes me a bit. "Yes. Yes. I have heard how much Tevinter and Orlais enjoy their precious game of backhanded compliments. I am neither. Having grown up in Lothering I am a much simpler woman." I take another mouthful of the delicious soup. "May I humbly ask to enjoy our meal together with small talk before getting down to the fine details. Tell me, what did you think of the Quinari?" Of course he is interested in the Quinari. His country and theirs have been at war over the island to the north for decades. What is it called?
"I thought they were strange. Like they are as foreign to the world as falling stars. For as much since as they made, they were just as confusing. Choose to obey? What the hell is that? Who chooses slavery? I made a good living killing slavers once." There's a soft gasp from the elven woman that served me. I turned my head over my shoulder and looked at her. Fear and admiration shone brightly in her large brown eyes. "You understand that slavery is perfectly legal here, correct?" he asks. "I do. But wrong is wrong where ever you go." I make look him directly in his eyes as he sips from his goblet. "My dear, I think we are going to get along just fine."
Just over an hour later our meal has been concluded and I have a steaming hot mug of dark red wine in my hands. "I'm telling you the thing was huge! As tall as a house and a wingspan that blotted out the sun. It would hop into the air and send me flying on my ass every time it would get frustrated it couldn't grab me."
"Amazing. I thought dragons were extinct." I kick my feet out and tap the toes of my boots together. "Extinct makes excellent leather." The wine has begun to go to my head. I've never had any before and when it was served to me hot, I foolishly assumed it was hot chocolate of coffee.
We have had enough light hearted conversation and I believe this man isn't out to get me so let's rip this scab off the wound. Setting the mug down I clear my throat. "The meal was absolutely delicious. Please compliment your cook lavishly on my behalf. Now we can get down to business." I fold my hands in my lap and look at him expectantly.
"Ah yes, that." He's quiet a moment staring off into the fire. "Are you married?" A nervous laugh escapes me. "Of course not. Being a full-time adventurer and hero leave little time for anything else. Even my trip here is business not pleasure."
"It must be so very strange in your country that a beautiful young woman such as yourself isn't married at your age. Surely there's plenty of suitors to be had." If this man is suggesting marriage to him or his boy I am going to punch him. "I have always hoped for a love match like my mother and father had. I will settle for nothing less."
His eyes mist over as if he is looking far away. Its almost as if I can see the wheels in his brain turning. I do not think he expected that answer from me. Maker what do I do? "It is much different here in Tevinter. My wife was given to me at 15 and we were married by our 17th year in an alliance between our two families. We barley tolerated each other. Since we married so young we were not allowed to see each other until we were 25 and Dorian was conceived on our honeymoon. We had an understanding she and I but nothing more." I wait for him to continue. "In the end we were more like business partners than husband and wife." What the hell am I supposed to say to that? When no lady of the house came down to dinner, I figured he was a bachelor. Is he also a widower? He is quiet again lost in his own thoughts.
"What does this have to do with our meeting?" I am beginning to get that rock of anxiety in my belly and it takes an extreme amount of self-control to not touch the handles of my blades to reassure myself. "Did you know that your mother Leandra went to finishing school with my wife? She was a lovely girl. I always wondered what happened to her. Her marriage to Malcolm was unexpected and hidden for so long. Aquinea was crushed after her disappearance from court."
My heart sinks. Of course they knew each other. Mother did mention familial ties to Tevinter at some point. "My mother is no longer with us." I whisper as grief squeezes my heart. He sets his mug down and scoots forward in his seat. "I was informed. My condolences on your loss. Its her death that convinced me to write to you."
Anger now rises in me as I demand to know why. "Because Aquinea was Quinten's first victim." He answers softly and makes a sweeping motion to the bouquet of white lilies in the far corner of the room. Startled I shoot to my feet. "I killed that son of a bitch myself." I can not keep the anger and pain from my voice. I barley keep the tears away. "I know dear." Halward stands and walks over to the flowers. "I also know who fostered the necromancy and blood magic that cost us both someone important. Did you find Quinten's journals after you sent that monster into the fade?"
"I thought there was no love lost between you and your wife."
"That is correct. But, she still mothered my son and stood by my side as we sculpted our house into what it is now. I know who pointed Quinten in the direction of my wife I just have no proof. I was hoping that there was information in the journals." I nod unable to take my eyes off the flowers he absentmindedly strokes. "You see Mistress Hawke I want Magister Danarius dead just as much as you. The pride of my house and name demands it. I must clean this blemish from my son's name if he is ever to inherit my position. I am willing to petition The Archon on your behalf for the license to challenge Denarius to a duel."
