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“A is for Andraste and all of her glorious grace?” Hawke read and raised one eloquent eyebrow at Varric.
“You said you wanted a book on letters,” Varric said, leaning back in his chair. “You didn’t say it had to be good. Talent costs extra.”
“Did you write this?” Hawke asked, flipping through the pages.
“Makers, no. A is for Andraste? Give me some credit, Hawke.”
“I don’t see the issue,” Sebastian said.
“You wouldn’t,” Anders said, not unkindly.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea,” Fenris said, shifting his weight. He looked away from the companions, surveying the bar in an attempt to hide his unease.
“When has that ever stopped Hawke?” Isabela asked. She took the book from Hawke and looked through it, then shook her head. She leaned across the table, stretching to steal a quill from in front of Varric. It put her body on display, thrusting her hips up, her breasts out, showing off miles of tanned leg. Hawke watched the few patrons stupid enough to oogle openly, holding their gazes when they finally noticed him, or rather, the massive blade strapped across his back and the numerous scars across his skin.
“It’s not bad,” Isabela continued, settling back into her seat and scratching out the words already written, leaving only the decorative, ornate letters. “It’s just not particularly relevant. A should be for something more interesting. Like alcohol.”
“Andraste is interesting,” Sebastian said. “If the purpose is to practice letters, you cannot find a more familiar word.”
“He has a point,” Anders drawled, “we do spend so much more time in the chantry than in a bar.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and gave a sigh that usually signaled the archer was temporarily giving up his quest to civilize the lot of them.
“Adventure!” Merrill chirped. “A could be for adventure. Oh, or aravels. Although not really, only in certain translations, otherwise it’s a different character altogether. Oh! Altogether. That’s another one, isn’t it?”
“Or Antivan assassins,” Hawke suggested, thinking of the still healing wound on his shoulder.
“Avaline! Anders! Apples!” Merrill had hit her stride and was looking around wildly. “A pair of boots!”
“Asses,” Isabela purred.
“Arf!”
Everyone turned to look at Hawke, who shrugged and looked down at the wardog beside him. The Mabari’s tongue lolled in a canine grin.
“He has a point,” Hawke said. “A is for Arf.”
Isabela handed the book and quill to Fenris.
***
It became a game. Everything eventually did. Isabela wasn’t one to take Hawke or Fenris seriously, because, she said, between them, they took everything seriously enough for everyone. Someone had to make sure they didn’t drown the world in scowls.
If Isabela wanted a game, it was usually easiest to play along.
B was for boats, Bianca, butts, beer, bunnies, butterflies, battle, blood, blades, ‘better them than us’, Bethany, Bloody Stupid Templars, bribes, blacksmiths, Bodhan, and of course, bars and bartenders.
C was for Chantry. Sebastian had been adamant and for once, Anders had agreed, C was most certainly for the Chantry, but oddly enough, it was also for chains, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that an interesting coincidence?
Merrill derailed the argument by stating that it could also be for chairs, couldn’t it? Fenris himself suggested C might be for corpses, if they were simply going for things they saw frequently. This led to a three day debate over what they saw more frequently, chairs or corpses. Chairs won out in the end, but only because they tracked a smuggling ring through a furniture storehouse. (The final count was 63 to 58, in favor of chairs.)
D was decidedly for dog, in Hawke’s (very Fereldan) opinion. Dogs, he said, and soon-to-be-dead drunks if they continued staring at Isabela’s derrière. Fenris almost ended the conversation before it truly began by muttering ‘D is also for Danarius.’
It was Varric who deftly turned angst to accomplishment, demonstrating the difference between an amateur and a professional: he pointed out that it would be more accurate to say ‘was.’
E was for elf. Everyone agreed, E was for elf.
F had many words: Fenris, Ferelden, food, fool, favors, friend, family, and fuck. F was decidedly not for fish, Fenris said, because it was his book.
The discussions of G through Q started while settling Gamlen’s gambling debts, continuing through knights, Martin, magistrates, ‘Maker, more spiders?‘, ‘never any rest for the wicked’, occupational hazards, playing diplomat and cards, and pirate ships lost and possibly found. The discussions abruptly ended with the quick way the world changed and the death of Hawke’s mother.
R was for ruthless, relentless rage, revenge and rivers of blood. S was for silence kept while burying new corpses, for softly spoken questions: ‘Rivaini, is he...?,’ ‘Should we...?’, ‘how is he?’. T was tears, Isabela thought, and how badly they needed to be shed sometimes. But T was also for together, for troubled waters needing a talented crew, T was for terrorizing and taunting and tempting until T became U; understanding and unity.
“V is for Varric,” Hawke offered one night, months later, voice rusty from silence. Every eye turned to him. Dark eyes, blood stained hands, and the pain of a man becoming legend; he looked like a man who thought V only stood for viciousness. Varric recovered from the shock first, because Varric (was telling the story) knew how to adapt.
“Well, of course it is,” Varric said. “Elf, do you still have that book?”
After some searching, the book was found, a quill procured, and V was no longer for ‘virtuous living’, but for Varric, Vael, Vallen, and, when Merrill became adamant, volus, though no one could get her to explain what exactly a volus was. It was agreed, silently, that v would not be for vengeance, because vengeance had been had. It was time for w.
W was for winning. For wonder, at the women who stood by them, wounds that gradually became scars, at the wicked way a warrior’s sword held back the war brewing in whispered words. W was for wanting more for the world than what was.
There was not time for a discussion of X, but Fenris watched Hawke speak to a broken Anders in an undertone, as the chantry burned and the city churned with chaos, and Fenris thought about how far he was willing to go for what he believed. Thought about wanting to burn Trevinter to ash and salt the ground. He decided X was for explosions, the extremes situations sometimes demanded, and the extraordinary loyalty exclusive to Hawke and the people who followed him.
Though he thought perhaps X wasn’t for any of these things, not really, because Varric said sometimes X was just a distraction from what was really happening with E.
(Perhaps E was for evolving as well as for elf.)
Y didn’t matter, the world insisted, but Fenris found Hawke was unique because it tended to be the first question he asked, when faced with things other people held to be certain. Mages needed to be controlled! (Why?) Because they were dangerous! (Why?) Because Templars make them so. (Why?) Because there is no other choice. (Why?) Because evil is not exclusive to evil-- all men do what they must and what they think is just.
They never sorted out Z, because there wasn’t time to talk during the battle and after, the world had changed such that A was a war no longer approaching, but arrived.