The First's Sister

Chapter 8

Hawke's POV

 

“Well at the very least, that was exhilarating.” The small warden at my side comments adjusting her belt around her hips.

 

“Not quite the word I would use.” I mumble, stepping out of the mines very small alcove and into the waiting sunlight. I hadn't expected the elf to have heard my comment but when I look down at her she's wearing a smirk across her face and looking up in my direction expecting me to continue. “I don't tend to go around looking for Arcane Horrors.” I feel uncomfortable under her stare and bring my hands to the high neckline of my pate armour to adjust where its sits against my shoulders.

 

She shrugs once, falling into step beside me as Isabela and Merrill begins to engage in idle conversation in front of us. “Guess we were just lucky this time.”

 

“Lucky?” The disbelief in my voice is hard to mask, the discomfort I feel in the elf's presence momentarily forgotten.

 

“Yeah.” She shrugs again, her gaze resting on the wilderness around us a small half smile tilting up one side of her lips. “Can't set off on a good quest without a good monster at the end.”

 

I make a small noise of disagreement in the back of my throat. “To think that I long for the quiet days.”

 

“I've spent seven days at sea. I've had just about enough quiet days as I can handle.” She says with a scoff, finally turning her eyes in my direction. “So I take it you nobles like things nice and boring?”

 

My unease slowly begins to evaporate from my shoulders under this easy conversation and I find my self chuckling at her words. “I don't make a very good noble.” I know that to be an understatement. Much of my conduct is unbecoming of a lady of my stature. Running around the countryside loaded down with weapons and armour dispatching hordes of the undead lead by an Arcane Horror for example. “Would just be nice to have a day off once in a while.”

 

My eyes land on the elf who walks a few paces ahead of us, leaning over conspicuously to speak in hushed tones with the pirate. If only I could spend a day or two away from the worries of Kirkwall and the constant threat of Templars. Only to spend it among the company of my closest friends and family then all of this adventuring and questing wouldn't feel quite so tedious. As it stands it appears I am hardly permitted to breath without some distressed member of the elite deeming it necessary to call on me for every trivial matter that rears it's ugly head. It does make one wonder if all other young nobles must endure the same pains or if it is simply the curse of being 'That Ferelden upstart' and they simply wish to run me all the way back to Lowtown.

 

Lyna hums low in her throat and a quick glance her way shows me that she is following my gaze to the back of her sisters head. One of her eyebrows raises and a thoughtful look passes across her features. “You love her don't you?” She says simply and even though her words pose a question her tone tells me she already knows the answer.

 

Sending a cautionary glance towards the two women ahead of us is enough to convince me that they are not listening to our conversation. “With all that I am.” Keeping my jaw set and my eyes firmly on the dirt path at our feat I wait. Patently wait for some form of rebuttal or rejection from my lovers family.

 

The words that leave the elven rogues lips are the last I would have expected. “You make her happy.”

 

For the second time today I lose all co ordination in my lower limbs, stumbling over my own feet and having to take a few unsteady steps to right myself. At my elbow, beneath the folds in my armour a hand lands against the leather underlay stopping me from falling face first into the dirt and as I look towards it's owner the warden's face shows me only the spark of mirth at my reaction.

 

“You are clumsy today Hawke.” Isabela's voice, as always demanding of attention reaches my ears more sparks of amusement can be found in the depths of her dark eyes. “Are you sure you didn't sneak a tot of whisky before we left The Hanged Man?”

 

“Get away with you.” Lyna comes to my defence with a small laugh, her hand still holding my arm pulls us both to a stop. The two women in front of us also draw to a halt questioning eyes sent towards the warden.

 

The two rouges share a short silent exchange and the smile that draws across Isabela's face is less than comforting. “Oh. Is this is big brother talk? More importantly can I watch?”

 

“No.” The elf says making a shooing motion with her free hand her other still wrapped around my elbow.

 

“Not even if I say pity please?” Isabela begins to argue the grin sent in my direction is one that begins to let my discomfort settle once more over my bones.

 

“Absolutely not, now just...” She pauses for a moment appearing to search for the correct wording. “Bugger off.”

 

The whole of the pirate queen's frame deflates in defeat, taking on the temperament of a purulent child who had been denied a new toy. “Oh alright.” She kicks at the dirt beneath her boot and turns to Merrill. “Come on Kitten, I know where we're not wanted.” She turns my beloved away down the road and with a few gentle prods manages to get her to walk a few steps down the path before once more turning towards me. “Now Hawke, do you need a suicide poison or anything?” the shocked look I can feel covering my face does little more than encourage her to continue her attempts at throwing me into a full scale anxiety attack. “You know, just in case things get a little rough.”

 

The warden's hand leaves my arm to push against the pirate's shoulder. Her laughter reaching my ears dispels some worry but I still feel remarkably uncomfortable within my own skin. “Go away.” Isabela then turns to leave catching up with the small elven mage who has stopped a few paces ahead. Isabela's arm easily going over her thin shoulders and they appear to once more drop into conversation.

 

Lyna's soft chuckle as she runs her hand through her shoulder length brown hair. She shakes her head at the retreating pair the raises her eyes up to meet mine. Her eyebrow raises and once more I feel like she is able to read my thoughts. Pricking and prodding within my mind with these soul piercing, impossibility bright blue eyes. She smirks in what appears to be frustration then turns away. “Well. After that this is definitely going to be anti-climactic.”

 

I get the uncontrollable urge to wipe my now sweaty palms against my trouser legs only to realise with a clatter of steel that both my gauntlets and my cuisse prevent me from taking that action. So instead I fall back onto my training, clenching a single hand into a fist at my side and resting the other upon the hilt of my sword at my hip. Preparing for any form of confrontation.

 

“You're not going to make this easy are you?” She asks shaking her head and looking across the landscape. She takes her lower lip between her teeth for a moment and her eyes close into slits against the beating midday sun. “I'm not going to threaten you, I genuinely believe that it might do more harm than good.”

 

I clear my throat in a gesture of my nerves and wait for her to continue, her words making me relax enough to release my stance and take my grip away from my blade.

 

She lets out a long, drawn out sigh crossing her arms and cutting her gaze across me, as if waiting for me to speak. Though I know as I search my mind I have nothing to say. “I've never seen her look at anything the way she looks at you.” Not only do her words surprise me but the tone in her voice does as well. As if in wonder or election or even both. She has a frown creasing her forehead as she gazes at me. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

 

Swallowing down my discomfort I force myself to answer the direct question with as honest an answer as I can. “I'm not certain.”

 

Another hand rakes through long locks, spitting them across her crown. “Creators, I'm so bad at this. I'm sorry I'm not exactly explaining myself very well.” That same hand leaves her hair and dexterously loosens a buckle at the neckline of her armour, pulling the strip of leather from it's confines and pulling the top of the constricting armour apart. “A very wise woman once said I could talk all night and never say a word.” The contradiction in terms has never felt more fitting. The small elf exhibiting all of the nervous gestures I can imagine as she tries to put her thoughts and feelings into words. She adjusts herself and pulls a determined look across her face. “What I’m trying to say is don’t fuck it up.” A small decisive nod follows and she turns and begins to walk back in the direction of Kirkwall. “That'll have to do.” She mutters to herself.

 

I am left rooted to the spot staring at the elf's back. Did that just happen? And if so what exactly just happened? I'm unsure as to if I should feel threatened or privileged to see the Hero of Ferelden in such a state over the well-being of her family. Was that heavily veiled disapproval of my involvement with my little mage or a jumbled picture of acceptance that is to murky to see?

 

At some point she must realise that I had not started to walk as she had along the dirt path and she turns, her boots kicking up dried earth with the movement. “Are you saying out here all day?” There in her voice is the confidence which eluded her just moments before. Why could she not have spoken with that tone and told me in simple terms as to you feelings on this matter?

 

After taking a deep breath I push my legs into a brisk walk to catch up silently falling into step beside the rouge only for the forms of both Isabela and Merrill to come into view just as the Pirate pokes the mage in the side making her giggle.

 

Isabela's wide smile greets me only for attention to shift to the warden. “That certainly looked like it went well.” Even I am able to hear the sarcasm dripping from her tone.

 

“Shut up.” Is Lyna's only reply with a good natured tone to her voice.

 

Thankfully the remainder of the journey back into Kirkwall is a quiet affair for me. The two friends up ahead never stopping in her giggles and chatter about Maker knows what. The only sure thing I can be certain is that Isabela must be in the mist of corrupting Merrill in some way.

 

The Hanged Man as we enter is quiet and dull even for this part of the day. A single man slumped over his table in the corner in a drink induced stupor and Leliana smiling brightly from her table near the bar the only occupants. Even Corff and Norah leave the bar unattended at this hour and it gives the whole place an eerily quiet air of which I am unused to.

 

Lyna smile lights up much of the room as the approaches her partner. Completely ignoring the sour look being sent in her direction. “You're covered in blood again.” Is the first thing the bard notices

 

The warden shrugs at the woman snatching her mug from the tabletop. “I was making friends.” She takes a sip from the steaming wooden cup the pulls it from her lips for closer inspection. “Is that tea? Where did you get tea?”

 

“If you had come shopping you would know such things.” Leliana replies, greeting both Merrill and Isabela with a warm smile as they take a seat at her table.

 

“Aww, you went without me.” The warden begins to whine. Pulling out a chair to take a seat. “And I was so looking forward to it.” I shake my head at the action. If I remember correctly it was the chance to get away from such activity which provoked her to come on our little excursion in the first place.

 

“Hmm.” Leliana mumbles a knowing smirk plastered across her features. “I'm sure.”

 

“Did you get the shoes you wanted?” The wardens eyebrows light high into her hairline.

 

“No. I thought I might save that till later.”

 

The resounding groan emitting from Lyna gives the impression she is much younger than she is and the whine of “Just for that, I’m keeping this tea.” followed very closely by her pushing her tongue out at her partner completes the image.

 

My armoured hand lightly lands on Merrill's shoulder to gain her attention. “I'll come back after nightfall. Walk you home.”

 

Even though I am unable to feel her skin against my fingers as she reaches up to grasp them the small show of affection warms my heart. “You wont stay?”

 

“No. Aveline wants to see me.”

 

The short from Isabela was predictable and she doesn’t disappoint. Taking a deck of cards from only Maker knows where within her tunic and beings to shuffle them. “All Lady Man Hands needs is a dammed good rogering. Then everyone would be happy.”

 

I sigh at the pirate vulture use of language. “If you didn't provoke her so, she wouldn't throw you into the brig quite so often.”

 

“Really?” She deals out a hand to all at the table without asking who is playing and turns her eyes to me letting me see the amusement sparkling within them “And here I thought she just liked to see me in chains.”

 

“The great Pirate Queen in Chains.” Lyna hums low in the back of her throat, fanning her cards before her eyes only to promptly placing them face down on the table.”I think I’d pay to see that.” Her gaze cuts to Isabela with small predatory smile on her face and slowly her eyes drop to run along her torso.

 

“We all know you would.” Do these two honestly not know any other form of communication? All morning I have had to put up with their wanton verbal displays of sexual appraisal, usually the double layering to their conversation making the heat on the back of my own neck rise at the content.

 

I clear my throat again, hoping that the noise might draw their attention away from such conversation, especial with Leliana within earshot, who to my surprise does little more than roll her eyes at the conduct. “After nightfall.” I tell Merrill with a final squeeze of her shoulder the turn and leave the quiet inn.

 

In direct contrast the streets are Kirkwall buzz with activity all the way into Hightown, the buzz of life following me all the way in and through the Viscount's Keep. It's only when I enter the Barracks the atmosphere become more subdued. Aveline's highly disciplined ranks keeping the idle chat to a low volume, possibly to avoid her wrath. It does make me wonder what this place would be like if they know how soft the Guard Captain could become when surrounded by her surrogate family. Would the ranks dissolve into chaos? Or would a new found respect be earned from her show of humanity? A question for another time I fear.

 

The door to her office stands ajar and after knocking against the heavy wood I put the flat of my hand against it to gently push it open.

 

I find my friend to be in mid pace behind her desk. One arm across across her chest, the other folded at the elbow so her fingers can gently pluck at her lower lip in thought. “Hawke.” she stops in her frantic stride to come around to the other side of her desk so she is better able to greet me. “You came.”

 

My head tilts involuntary in question as to my friend's actions. In all the years we have known each other it is only on rare instances I have seen her pace or for that matter look at me with such desperate eyes. I am beginning to think that this should have been my first stop this morning. “Of cause I came. You're note appeared urgent.”

 

“Thank you and it was.” Her gaze hits the carpeted floor again as she beings to try her best to wear a trench in the fabric.

 

“I see.” Crossing my arms I try my best to get out of the frantic woman’s way and lean heavily on her desk, my eyes following her movements from one side of the room to the other. “Urgent enough to send a runner.” I begin, if she is not forthcoming with her reason for such a summons I see no harm in speculating. “Yet not important enough to leave your office.”

 

She stops turning to me abruptly. “Yes.” She says then shakes her head. “No.”

 

Confusion must be evident on my face for I can hear it in my voice. “Which is it?”

 

“I...” she stops and swallows once before moving around to the other side of her desk once more. “I have a matter of grave importance of which I can only trust to you.”

 

Well this must be very serious. I am suddenly very glad that I came to the Barracks alone. “You're starting to make me nervous.”

 

“I'm sorry Hawke.” She opens a draw to her desk and pull a singe folded letter from within it and hold her hand out for me to take it. “I need you to put this directly into the hands of guardsman Donnic. Then tell me as to his reaction to it.”

 

I take the small bundle from her hands, running my armoured thumb over the Guard Captain Seal. “Dispatches? You want me to hand your guardsman his orders?”

 

Stiffly the nods, not even daring to blink as she look upon me. “Yes.”

 

Turning the folded parchment over I send a sidelong glance at my old friend. Questioning her with a raised eyebrow and a long look. No answer is forthcoming and neither of us can be accused of being able to express ourselves adequately with words. So with a shake of my head I stand from my perch and go off without a word in search of the guardsman.

 

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hmm two updates two days. I do tend to get into this fic when the mood takes me. Anyway here we go. Little bit of Lyna and little bit of Aveline... who is proving difficult to write in character. Does anyone know what happened to that 'Three's company' Isabela Hawke Fic. I remember her being written perfectly in that but I can't find it for the life of me... ahh well. Tell me what you think. This one felt so immensely tame in comparison to the violence last chapter. I need to provoke violence ohh chapter ideas. Please read and review.