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"In dreams you're hunted
Around and round we go
And this is why we're coming
And this is how you'll know."
The robe was bloody, and would need cleaned before she could wear it again for tomorrow’s adventures. She really should have taken care of that before allowing herself to sink heavily into bed. Maker only knows what foul mess now stained the lush comforter. When it came to decorating, Mother’s taste had never been subtle. Andraste help her, she still hadn't figured out what to do with the Orlesian monstrosity of a bed in her room.
Turning away from one unpleasant memory, Hawke adjusted her position as if to physically escape. The swill Varric had kept pouring in her glass was more than a few steps above what he supplied their merry little group. But then, that’s what one did for friends, wasn’t it? Helped them drown out their sorrows when the world kept you sinking under. She had perhaps drunk more than she ought. She was by no means a lightweight, but she usually tried to keep a clear head. It was silly to have tippled more tonight. No doubt that explained the aching in her temples, the rolling in her stomach.
“That night...I can't stop thinking about it.”
“Well, then I'll see you later.”
Hawke bolted out of bed. Today had been fine, easy in fact. Finding the remaining Qunari swords for Taarbas had been unusually satisfying. He’d had no words of effusive praise, nor has she expected him to. He’d noted simply that his task was complete, and that he could now leave Kirkwall. Still, she thought she’d seen a flicker of something in his eyes as she’d handed over the last of the blades. Relief, perhaps. The knowledge that this city, which one could shed their blood to aid and yet forever be an outsider, was at long last no longer the place he had to call home. The comfort of returning to those who knew you, who shaped you, who loved you. Or whatever bonds the Qunari had. A few fascinating conversations with an Arishok did not an expert her make. Still, she had a lingering respect and repulsion for the devotion the Qun seemed to instill in its followers, and the ease by which they seemed to escape into it. Escape must be….nice. Very nice indeed.
She walked to her window to view the Kirkwall night. How many of the Nobles in the locked homes around her truly understood the hustle occurring on those streets right now? The thieving, whoring, killing, gambling, and desperation that seemed to be growing to something larger than the city could contain. As if a demon was nestling underneath, and soon would break its constraints. How many in these homes could feel the undercurrents? And how many were responsible for them in the first place? She could slip back out in the night now, sans companions. She’d done it before. Slipped out of the shadows she usually hugged, and let her fire and ice rain down, belying the fact she danced in the shadows of a tower where her brother guarded her ilk.
She could visit the Rose. Madame Lusine was extraordinarily grateful that she had kept the brothel’s name out her dealings with the Knight-Commander. Given the strain those poor bastards were under, she’d never considered turning in the Templars who were merely seeking out a little relief in their off hours. The irony of Mage pitying a Templar for their conefinement wasn’t completely lost on her. Still, the Madame was eager to discharge this imbalance, as she disliked perceiving herself in another’s debt. She was rather direct that way.
“That was direct.”
“I thought I'd get straight to the point. Were you expecting flowers or something?”
Tea. Tea was the ticket. No doubt a hot cup of one of Orana’s flowery concoctions would put her straight to sleep. Hawke stealthily tread down the steps, taking care to avoid being caught. As helpful as Orana was eager to be, it was a wonder the poor girl ever got any sleep. Had taking her in even been the right thing to do? What reasonable alternative was there? Orana had taken up music, and ventured outside of the house more and more often. So perhaps there was still hope.
Descending the steps, she saw a new letter on her writing desk. She was sure she had cleared them all. After all, Kirkwall’s Champion couldn’t be tardy in declining to attend Lord and Lady So and So’s newest soirée. Making her way over to the desk, she picked up the letter to see Uncle Gamlen’s surprisingly neat scrawl on the envelope. Inside was a brisk but honest thank you for her clearing up a little matter with some bookies in Lowtown. While she and Gamlen would never share the bond she associated with true family, she was still grateful for what common ground they had found. She hoped that with the addition of Charade into his life, perhaps something more meaningful could grow between all of them.
A second letter hidden behind Gamlen’s contained a brief thank you from her other mysterious friends, in thanks for clearing out those same Lowtown bookies. She set aside the coins to share with her group. Though they didn’t realize it, she and Varric had long since ceased to partake of any reward money for themselves. Varric never really needed it, and Hawke had more to her name now than she had ever imagined when entering Kirkwall as a mere Ferelden refugee. No matter how much she gave away, it seemed someone was always eager to line her pockets with more. Given her friends more humble circumstances, it was easier this way. The unspoken agreement with Varric was longstanding. Perhaps with the truest of friends, words were seldom needed.
Besides, Fenris deserved it most as he was the one to take a dagger to the shoulder when one of the bookies took exception to their rigged bets being questioned. It had hardly been serious at all. And while she had perhaps a bit overzealously dealt with the offending bookie, the fight was over before it began. Her robe sleeve had easily soaked up the excess blood, as she held it steadily over the wound. And if Isabella had knelt besides Fenris with low, murmured words as Hawke cast a healing spell, it was hardly an issue. And if herself and Varric could perhaps easily overhear their words, it was fine. Her companions were entitled to their own lives, after all. No reason for anyone to be upset by a bit of fun. She’d had fun drinking a little more than usual with her fine dwarven friend afterwards, hadn’t she? No harm at all. He’d been more than happy to join in, Bianca ever at his side as drank deep. No harm at all. No harm.
“Don't be absurd.”
“Then I'll see you tonight.”
She sighed deeply and silently returned up the stairs. Tomorrow would hold plenty of new adventures, she held no doubt. Why let any memories of today linger? No use putting off cleaning it any longer. Her robe was bloody, after all.