It was the smell of bacon that first teased Marian Hawke awake, despite her weariness; bacon sizzling and popping in the pan, the very thought of it making her stomach rumble. With it came the scent of eggs frying and bread fresh from the oven, and for one glorious moment, she thought she was back at the homestead in Lothering and everything was all right again.
But then the distant thunder brought her back to reality, and the warrior-noble tossed and turned on her luxurious four-poster bed, wincing at the aches and pains that lanced along her shoulders and collarbone. Anders had warned that her recovery would take some time; his potent healing magic and the best doctors in Kirkwall had repaired the injuries she had suffered during her duel with the Arishok, but even then, she would need time before she was fit for action. Idly, her strong pale fingers stroked the faint scar left on the right side of her collarbone, a parting gift from the Qunari leader as she ran him through, a gift that nearly killed her. It was just one of many scars she’d accumulated since coming to Kirkwall over four years ago, another memento of a hard-fought struggle to both make her fortune and protect the City of Chains from all enemies. And Maker knows, there are plenty enough of those. Now she was the Champion of Kirkwall, proclaimed as such for liberating the city from the Qunari threat, and down in her bones, Hawke knew the road ahead would only get tougher.
Frowning at this unexpected pessimism, Hawke swung out of bed, bare feet kissing the soft fibres of the carpet. She had never been one to allow such dark feelings to distract her from doing her duty, but that was the problem. The Qunari had been defeated, the city saved, and there had been little to do in her enforced bed rest but ponder…and spend time with Merrill.
Merrill, sighed Hawke, smiling blissfully at the thought of her Dalish lover. She had been her rock these past few months, anchoring her in place when the world tried its damnedest to sweep her away, always there to listen or offer a shoulder to cry on or raise her staff in Hawke’s defense. In the five days since the Arishok’s defeat, the elven girl had been a second shadow, always tending to her needs and offering a helping hand while she recuperated. The smile faded as Hawke’s sapphire blue eyes noticed the other side of the bed was bare. “Merrill?”
The clatter of metal boomed from the kitchen, followed shortly by a musical voice cursing in Elvish. Quickly slipping on a robe, Hawke bounded downstairs, concern giving her flight. “Merrill?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma vhenan, I didn’t mean to wake you,” the elven girl said, looking up from the saucepan she had been furiously attending to with a spatula. “The pancakes seem to be sticking, that’s all.”
“Amongst other things,” remarked Hawke, examining the kitchen in all its chaotic glory. Merrill must have used every pot and pan in the house to prepare breakfast, the waste bins filled with the charred remnants of her earlier efforts, and the wash basins piled high with blackened cookware. “Would you like some help in here?”
“Oh, no!” Merrill replied, hastily elaborating. “I mean, it’s my Day of Andraste’s Grace gift for you, ma vhenan. I couldn’t think of what to get you, so I decided to make you a nice breakfast in bed.” Swiftly scooping out the bacon before it went up in flames, the elf’s wide green eyes examined her handiwork. “It just…took longer than I thought, that’s all.”
“Bodahn’s talking with the Merchant’s Guild then about my civic restoration proposal, then?” Hawke asked, silently cursing herself for a fool. She had completely forgotten about the Day of Andraste’s Grace! Admittedly, any plans she might have had for the romantic holiday would have been disrupted by the Qunari attack, and her recovery, but still, she should have made an effort!
“Yes, he and Sandal left this morning, and Orana decided to go to the Chantry, to see if she could help there, so we have the house to ourselves,” Merrill said, heaping the food onto plates. “They’ll probably be back soon, but I did want to do something special for you. I hope it’s alright.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Merrill,” Hawke reassured the elven woman, kissing her on the cheek. “It was very sweet of you to do this for me, thank you.”
Bashfully, Merrill turned away, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be up and about, Hawke? Your wounds…”
“It’ll be alright, Merrill. Anders said they’re mostly healed by now; I just have to make sure I don’t overexert myself. Trust me, I just want a nice, quiet day today.”
“Well, how about we have our breakfast on the upstairs balcony? It’s always very pretty there.”
A light drizzle began to fall over Kirkwall, but the two remained warm and dry beneath the balcony’s awnings, listening to the rain plinking against the windows and screens. Merrill might not have been a particularly confident cook, but her efforts had resulted in a meal that was filling and tasty, if a little overdone. Ravenous, Hawke dug into the spread. “If I had known you were this hungry, ma vhenen, I would have made more!” Merrill giggled while the human devoured a stack of pancakes.
“Gotta get my strength back somehow, dear,” replied Hawke, slowing it down a pace before she made herself sick or her table manners descended into the truly disgusting. Besides, what did she have to hurry for? Anders might be an increasingly bitter and misanthropic apostate, but he knew his business when it came to healing, and Hawke had no intention of derailing her recovery if she could avoid it. The rest of her companions were otherwise engaged in their own business; Aveline was bringing the Guard to bear against gangs of looters trying to plunder the ravaged Lowtown, Sebastian was at the Chantry, aiding those who lost homes or family when the Qunari attacked, Varric was doubtless at the Hanged Man, spreading tales of Hawke’s duel against the Arishok to any who would listen, Fenris had taken a job as a guard for a merchant caravan heading to Ostwick, and Isabela…
“What’s wrong, ma vhenen?,” asked Merrill, noticing the grim expression her lover bore.
“I was just wondering where Isabela was, actually,” answered Hawke. “From what Aveline told me, she just up and left after the Qunari were defeated. Didn’t even say goodbye. I mean, she ended up saving us all by bringing back the Tome, Merrill, she had nothing to fear from the Guard or the nobility. I- I’m just disappointed that after all that, she would leave again.”
“So am I, Hawke. I’m sure Isabela will turn up eventually. Maybe she ended up getting a new ship?”
“Maybe. You know, it’s funny. When the Qunari were here, they were a headache from beginning to end, but now that they’re gone, I’m kinda going stir-crazy. I had something to focus on then, to keep from distract from everything else…”
“I miss Leandra too, my love. And I know that you did everything you could to help her.”
“Thank you, Merrill, I know,” Hawke responded sincerely. The elven girl was generally poor with social interaction, yet oddly enough, ever since the two had become lovers, she was able to read Hawke like a book. “It’s just that… now I have to deal with all those things I could afford to neglect thanks to the Qunari.” She paused for a moment, pursing scarlet lips. “Tell you what; would you like to come to Mother’s tomb with me? I haven’t really been back there since the funeral, and it would be nice to visit with a friend.”
“Of course. Some fresh air might be good for you too.”
“Agreed then,” said Hawke, setting aside the remnants of her breakfast and strutting up to the Dalish girl with a sultry expression. “Perhaps once we get back, you could give me another massage? It definitely helped me sleep last night.”
Giggling, the elf kissed her lover’s cheek. “In that case, I’ll see what I can do…”
**********************************
Sometime later, the two left the Amell Estate under a darkened sky, cloaks drawn about them to ward off the rain. Ever-mindful of Ander’s warnings, Hawke left her usual greatsword at home, instead carrying a one-handed longsword for protection. Her armour had been ruined in the battle with the Arishok, so the warrior simply travelled in a fine padded jerkin, practical if not particularly resilient. Meanwhile, Merrill was clad in the fine silverite armour Hawke had forged for her when they began courting, the mage’s staff slung over her back. Locking the house behind them, the pair crossed the Square of Eagles and made their way towards Hightown’s Chantry District, hands clasped affectionately.
With the Qunari crisis over, Hightown was on the road to recovery, though the markets were far less crowded and many of the streets were quiet and bare. In typical Kirkwall fashion, it was at the insistence of the nobility that Hightown became the first priority for recovery and rebuilding, Much of Lowtown had been devastated by the invaders, with hundreds of people dead and entire hexes lost, but as ever, the nobility ignored the suffering of their lesser in favour of their own selfish comfort. Even now, Hawke could hear riotous laughter bursting from some of the other estates, as Kirkwall’s elite celebrated their deliverance from the Qunari with their usual hedonistic excess. “Fools,” she muttered under her breath. “If they spent half the effort working to help the city as they did partying, Kirkwall would be the greatest city in Thedas. No wonder the Arishok hated it here.”
“Yes, I can see how that would make him grumpy,” Merrill stated, skipping through some shallow puddles. “Maybe if they got invited to a party or two, they would have been a lot nicer?”
Hawke couldn’t help but smirk at this. “Either that, or there’d be a few less nobles. I should have suggested it to the Viscount.”
“Poor Viscount Dumar. He
It was the smell of bacon that first teased Marian Hawke awake, despite her weariness; bacon sizzling and popping in the pan, the very thought of it making her stomach rumble. With it came the scent of eggs frying and bread fresh from the oven, and for one glorious moment, she thought she was back at the homestead in Lothering and everything was all right again.
But then the distant thunder brought her back to reality, and the warrior-noble tossed and turned on her luxurious four-poster bed, wincing at the aches and pains that lanced along her shoulders and collarbone. Anders had warned that her recovery would take some time; his potent healing magic and the best doctors in Kirkwall had repaired the injuries she had suffered during her duel with the Arishok, but even then, she would need time before she was fit for action. Idly, her strong pale fingers stroked the faint scar left on the right side of her collarbone, a parting gift from the Qunari leader as she ran him through, a gift that nearly killed her. It was just one of many scars she’d accumulated since coming to Kirkwall over four years ago, another memento of a hard-fought struggle to both make her fortune and protect the City of Chains from all enemies. And Maker knows, there are plenty enough of those. Now she was the Champion of Kirkwall, proclaimed as such for liberating the city from the Qunari threat, and down in her bones, Hawke knew the road ahead would only get tougher.
Frowning at this unexpected pessimism, Hawke swung out of bed, bare feet kissing the soft fibres of the carpet. She had never been one to allow such dark feelings to distract her from doing her duty, but that was the problem. The Qunari had been defeated, the city saved, and there had been little to do in her enforced bed rest but ponder…and spend time with Merrill.
Merrill, sighed Hawke, smiling blissfully at the thought of her Dalish lover. She had been her rock these past few months, anchoring her in place when the world tried its damnedest to sweep her away, always there to listen or offer a shoulder to cry on or raise her staff in Hawke’s defense. In the five days since the Arishok’s defeat, the elven girl had been a second shadow, always tending to her needs and offering a helping hand while she recuperated. The smile faded as Hawke’s sapphire blue eyes noticed the other side of the bed was bare. “Merrill?”
The clatter of metal boomed from the kitchen, followed shortly by a musical voice cursing in Elvish. Quickly slipping on a robe, Hawke bounded downstairs, concern giving her flight. “Merrill?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma vhenan, I didn’t mean to wake you,” the elven girl said, looking up from the saucepan she had been furiously attending to with a spatula. “The pancakes seem to be sticking, that’s all.”
“Amongst other things,” remarked Hawke, examining the kitchen in all its chaotic glory. Merrill must have used every pot and pan in the house to prepare breakfast, the waste bins filled with the charred remnants of her earlier efforts, and the wash basins piled high with blackened cookware. “Would you like some help in here?”
“Oh, no!” Merrill replied, hastily elaborating. “I mean, it’s my Day of Andraste’s Grace gift for you, ma vhenan. I couldn’t think of what to get you, so I decided to make you a nice breakfast in bed.” Swiftly scooping out the bacon before it went up in flames, the elf’s wide green eyes examined her handiwork. “It just…took longer than I thought, that’s all.”
“Bodahn’s talking with the Merchant’s Guild then about my civic restoration proposal, then?” Hawke asked, silently cursing herself for a fool. She had completely forgotten about the Day of Andraste’s Grace! Admittedly, any plans she might have had for the romantic holiday would have been disrupted by the Qunari attack, and her recovery, but still, she should have made an effort!
“Yes, he and Sandal left this morning, and Orana decided to go to the Chantry, to see if she could help there, so we have the house to ourselves,” Merrill said, heaping the food onto plates. “They’ll probably be back soon, but I did want to do something special for you. I hope it’s alright.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, Merrill,” Hawke reassured the elven woman, kissing her on the cheek. “It was very sweet of you to do this for me, thank you.”
Bashfully, Merrill turned away, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be up and about, Hawke? Your wounds…”
“It’ll be alright, Merrill. Anders said they’re mostly healed by now; I just have to make sure I don’t overexert myself. Trust me, I just want a nice, quiet day today.”
“Well, how about we have our breakfast on the upstairs balcony? It’s always very pretty there.”
A light drizzle began to fall over Kirkwall, but the two remained warm and dry beneath the balcony’s awnings, listening to the rain plinking against the windows and screens. Merrill might not have been a particularly confident cook, but her efforts had resulted in a meal that was filling and tasty, if a little overdone. Ravenous, Hawke dug into the spread. “If I had known you were this hungry, ma vhenen, I would have made more!” Merrill giggled while the human devoured a stack of pancakes.
“Gotta get my strength back somehow, dear,” replied Hawke, slowing it down a pace before she made herself sick or her table manners descended into the truly disgusting. Besides, what did she have to hurry for? Anders might be an increasingly bitter and misanthropic apostate, but he knew his business when it came to healing, and Hawke had no intention of derailing her recovery if she could avoid it. The rest of her companions were otherwise engaged in their own business; Aveline was bringing the Guard to bear against gangs of looters trying to plunder the ravaged Lowtown, Sebastian was at the Chantry, aiding those who lost homes or family when the Qunari attacked, Varric was doubtless at the Hanged Man, spreading tales of Hawke’s duel against the Arishok to any who would listen, Fenris had taken a job as a guard for a merchant caravan heading to Ostwick, and Isabela…
“What’s wrong, ma vhenen?,” asked Merrill, noticing the grim expression her lover bore.
“I was just wondering where Isabela was, actually,” answered Hawke. “From what Aveline told me, she just up and left after the Qunari were defeated. Didn’t even say goodbye. I mean, she ended up saving us all by bringing back the Tome, Merrill, she had nothing to fear from the Guard or the nobility. I- I’m just disappointed that after all that, she would leave again.”
“So am I, Hawke. I’m sure Isabela will turn up eventually. Maybe she ended up getting a new ship?”
“Maybe. You know, it’s funny. When the Qunari were here, they were a headache from beginning to end, but now that they’re gone, I’m kinda going stir-crazy. I had something to focus on then, to keep from distract from everything else…”
“I miss Leandra too, my love. And I know that you did everything you could to help her.”
“Thank you, Merrill, I know,” Hawke responded sincerely. The elven girl was generally poor with social interaction, yet oddly enough, ever since the two had become lovers, she was able to read Hawke like a book. “It’s just that… now I have to deal with all those things I could afford to neglect thanks to the Qunari.” She paused for a moment, pursing scarlet lips. “Tell you what; would you like to come to Mother’s tomb with me? I haven’t really been back there since the funeral, and it would be nice to visit with a friend.”
“Of course. Some fresh air might be good for you too.”
“Agreed then,” said Hawke, setting aside the remnants of her breakfast and strutting up to the Dalish girl with a sultry expression. “Perhaps once we get back, you could give me another massage? It definitely helped me sleep last night.”
Giggling, the elf kissed her lover’s cheek. “In that case, I’ll see what I can do…”
**********************************
Sometime later, the two left the Amell Estate under a darkened sky, cloaks drawn about them to ward off the rain. Ever-mindful of Ander’s warnings, Hawke left her usual greatsword at home, instead carrying a one-handed longsword for protection. Her armour had been ruined in the battle with the Arishok, so the warrior simply travelled in a fine padded jerkin, practical if not particularly resilient. Meanwhile, Merrill was clad in the fine silverite armour Hawke had forged for her when they began courting, the mage’s staff slung over her back. Locking the house behind them, the pair crossed the Square of Eagles and made their way towards Hightown’s Chantry District, hands clasped affectionately.
With the Qunari crisis over, Hightown was on the road to recovery, though the markets were far less crowded and many of the streets were quiet and bare. In typical Kirkwall fashion, it was at the insistence of the nobility that Hightown became the first priority for recovery and rebuilding, Much of Lowtown had been devastated by the invaders, with hundreds of people dead and entire hexes lost, but as ever, the nobility ignored the suffering of their lesser in favour of their own selfish comfort. Even now, Hawke could hear riotous laughter bursting from some of the other estates, as Kirkwall’s elite celebrated their deliverance from the Qunari with their usual hedonistic excess. “Fools,” she muttered under her breath. “If they spent half the effort working to help the city as they did partying, Kirkwall would be the greatest city in Thedas. No wonder the Arishok hated it here.”
“Yes, I can see how that would make him grumpy,” Merrill stated, skipping through some shallow puddles. “Maybe if they got invited to a party or two, they would have been a lot nicer?”
Hawke couldn’t help but smirk at this. “Either that, or there’d be a few less nobles. I should have suggested it to the Viscount.”
“Poor Viscount Dumar. He
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