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The First's Sister	By : lycanthrope Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 9452 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All Characters and places found in this fic are based on Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age 2 both games are the legal property of Bioware and i make no profit from the posting of this fic.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 3
Hawks POV
Countless days of being woken by the army bulge has permanently rendered me unable to sleep past the steady sunrise. I sigh against the frustrating habit and my restless eyes crack open to welcome a new day only to be greeted by the jet-black hair of the elven woman in my bed. My arm around her tightens slightly in a silent greeting as not to wake her and I push my head heavily against the soft pillows, closing my eyes. Already knowing that any attempt at further rest would be fruitless but unwilling to leave the comfort of this warm inviting bed.
My hand gently reaches beneath Merrill’s sleeping attire and I grant myself the pleasure of running my thumb across the smooth skin along her belly. She murmurs in her sleep and shifts her weight deeper into my embrace. Pulling a deep breath through my nostrils I take in her earthy sent and try to will my limbs to relax and allow me to slumber, frustrated to find that they are unwilling to and have begun to ache with inactivity.
With another deep sigh I rise from the bed, running my hand along my face and over my neck before stretching out my back. I reach for my robe and throw one last longing glace and the sleeping woman before throwing it around my shoulders and leaving the large bedroom.
Upon descending the ornate stairs into the foyer I spot a pile of unopened letters stacked on the table close to the door and have to physically restrain myself from throwing the blasted things straight into the fire already burning brightly in the heath. Bodahn and Sandal are both used to my morning rituals and in the colder months always ensure that I wake to a warm room. I drop my letters down onto the plush chair angled to face to fire and rest my forearm against the mantel to gently gaze into the crackling flames. Smiling at how well the people of this household have come to know me.
They know that in the quieter hours of the morning I much prefer the foyer to my study. Liking to watch the house slowly some alive around me. Enjoying the light conversation such a position can provoke with the inhabitancies of the house as the come and go as they please.
Forlornly I turn my attention to the letters again. Lifting them from the seat so I can settle into it and leafing through them to find several marked for my urgent attention. Upon spaying Athenril’s neat script scribed across one of the envelopes I throw the letter deep into the flames before even breaking the thick wax seal. I had a belly full of that conniving elf my first year in the city and I’ll be dammed is I let her drag me into that web of deceit again.
A seal bearing the mark of the guard captain across a blank envelope catches my attention and causes me to frown. Unsure as to why Aveline would not come to request my aid in person I break the wax to find the words. ‘I need your help.’ Written in block capitals across the centre of the page. Even more confused I turn the page over hoping she might have given more detail somewhere else on the page. It appears that she hasn’t even taken the time to sigh her name and I set the strange note to one side, promising myself that I will visit my old friend at some point today.
The words scribbled across the next of my letters is in the looped script of Hubert and I close my eyes in frustration, wishing that I have never accepted his offer for part ownership of The Bone Pit. The only time the man feels the need to contact me directly is when something has crawled out of the woodwork at the creepy mine. Usually some superstition passed around among the workers has them all running scared and they will not return to work until I have personally decaled the blasted place safe.
“Morning Marian.”
I smile at the voice, more than glad of the interruption. “Morning Mother.” I set the letters aside as she approaches and drops into the seat opposite. I turn to give her my full attention.
“Is Merrill still sleeping?” She asks.
I find myself smiling at the question. Not so long ago the only conversation I could have with my mother centred around which nobleman I hoped would ask for my hand in marriage. Her eyes would light up as she talked endlessly of the men she had met since I brought this estate. She took my silence as vague interest and would not let the matter drop. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that my heart already resided deep in the squalor of Lowtown, nestled deep within the Alienage.
The morning after Merrill first came to the estate in search of me she walked down into the foyer to find Mother and myself, engaged in conversation. She turned beat red from the base of her neck right to the tips of her pointed ears, as my Mother’s eyes looked upon her in shock then very quickly disappeared up the stairs.
From that day all talk of noblemen and marriage were completely forgotten. My Mother either totally giving up on the notion or seeing the happiness the small elven mage provoked in me saw no need to press the matter further.
“Yes.” I answer turning my gaze to the flames in the heath, the events of last night filtering into my thoughts. We sit in silence of a few moments and I can feel her eyes on me. Questioning my silent thoughts. “Did father ever meet your family?” I finally ask drawing my eyes to her features.
Her forehead is heavily creased and she leans back in the high backed chair. “What makes you ask that dear?”
“I…” Lead hits my tongue as it so often does, stilling my words behind my teeth. I know I need the advice that only a parent can bestow but lack the courage to ask for it. “I met Merrill’s sister last night.”
Her eyebrows rise high in surprise. “I didn’t even know she had a sister.” She comments.
“Neither did I.” I admit slowly. Conveniently leaving out that the woman in question happens to be the Hero of Ferelden. “I may have threatened her.”
My mother’s giggles were anticipated but I still glare at her for being unwilling to hide her amusement. “You always did know how to make a first impression.”
“That’s not helping mother.” The small whine in my voice throws her into another fit of laughter and I roll my eyes, waiting for her to be able to control herself, when she has I continue on my line of questioning. “What if she doesn’t approve of me?”
“Merrill loves you Marian.” My mother states simply, holding my gaze and looking like that small statement will hold the answers to all of my questions.
I swallow audibly unable to quench my fears. “Is that why you left with father?” She nods slowly, her eyes glazing over as she losses herself to her memories. I am loath to drag her from such pleasant times but my pressing worries drive me forward. “Is that the only reason?”
She takes a moment to consider this question. “I was young and rebellious and my parents didn’t approve which only made your father all the more appealing. I ran away with him to spite my parents. I stayed in Ferelden because I feel so deeply in love with him.”
“Oh.” I say not really certain if her answer confounds the issue further or not. “So what do I do?” I finally ask.
“Nothing.” She sees my jaw clench at her response and quickly continues. “You’ll just have to trust Merrill. If she loves you like I know she does, her sibling will not be able to stand in the way of that.” She looks to the window to gaze at the sun climbing rapidly in the sky and stands.
I look up at her, feeling like a child clutching at her apron strings. “Are you sure?”
She smiles down at me, taking the time to run her hand along my cheek to bring me comfort. “Nothing is certain in love or war my dear. Worrying over it will not change that.” Her comforting hand lands against my cheek and she drops a single kiss onto the top of my head as she passes.
The small exchange leaves me in a more confused state then when I started and I give a long sigh before opening the letter from Hubert, only for six pages to fall onto my lap. I can’t help but wish he had he had the same notion as Aveline.
Resting my forehead heavily in the palm of my hand I set about reading through the looped writing. By the fifth page I have the gist of what the man is trying to say but have to restrain myself from heading down to the market to wring her neck myself, for wasting my time on all the trivial matters he has brought up before making his point.
The murderous impulses rushing through me are quickly quenched when I hear movement on the stairs. Merrill is slowly making her way down, dressed in another of my red robes. The garment much to big for her and the martial appears to swallow her whole, running along her body and almost dragging along the floor. She has one of the sleeves bunched up around her elbow as she sleepily rubs her fist against her right eye.
The smile pulls across my face of its own violation and I set the letters down on the arm of the chair so I can give her my full attention. “Good morning.”
She narrows her tiered eyes at me as she reaches the ground floor, lowering her arm so the sleeve of the robe falls towards the floor swallowing her tiny hand in one smooth motion. “Almost.”
“If you’re so tiered, why are you out of bed?”
A hint of a blush stains her cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears as she tries to shrug innocently. “It was cold.”
“Well we can’t have that.” I say extending my hand out to her. “Come and rest by the fire.”
The smile that pulls along her face twinkles amongst her bright green eyes and she takes my invitation, entwining her fingers with my own before folding herself in such a way that she is able to curl up on my lap, leaning her side against my chest. She rests her temple against my colour bone and sighs as my arms reach around to encircle her.
It never ceases to amaze me how much such simple contact can relax the elf in my arms. I feel the ghost of her eyelashes against my skin as she closes her eyes and the tension leaves her body. Her nose pushes against my neck to nuzzle against me and her muscles twitch as she makes herself comfortable.
I smile at the adorable action and reach to the arm of my chair to retrieve the letter from Hubert, resting my cheek against her forehead I continue to try and decipher the loops script written across the page. I barely manage two lines before her hand sweeps into my vision to run along my creased forehead. “You’re thinking dark thoughts.”
“A little.” I admit, still distracted by the words on the paper in front of me. Still trying to come up with as many ways as I can to throttle Hubert so he can at the very least keep his messages short and to the point.
Her wandering hand drops to my shoulder and her gentle fingers graze along my collarbone as a subtle, very pleasant indication as to her intentions. “Come back to bed and we can chase them away.”
My eyes close and I force myself to resist the temptation, taking Merrill to my bed has very quickly become one of my most favoured habits and on any other morning I would leap at the offer. “I would love to.” Her fingers halt in their gentle ministrations as she senses contrition in my words. “I have to go down to The Bone Pit.” I feel her eyelashes against my skin as her eyes open to look up at me. “Some nonsense about the walking dead.” I sigh dropping the pages to the floor at my feet.
“Well, that sounds very serious.” She says in the thoughtful voice. In a flurry of movement she extracts herself from my arms and is on her feat, pulling the large robe tighter around her shoulders as she heads towards the stairs. “We should leave right away.” Still left in my seat with my lap noticeably cold without her body heat to warm it I blink up at her. I hadn’t even thought she would want to accompany me to the mine. “We should probably ask Isabella to come. I do so like to hear her dirty stories and they get worse when she’s looting dead bodies.” I stand from my seat and silently follow the talkative elf up the stairs and into the master bedroom. “If they are already the waking dead and we kill them, their dead twice. So does that mean there is twice as much looting to be done?” She gets to the centre of the room before tuning to me. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”
All I can do is smile and take her cheeks in each of my hand to draw her up for a chaste kiss against her lips. Before silently resting my forehead against hers, refreshed once again by her putting voice to all of her inner musings. My thumbs run once across her skin and I begrudgingly remove myself from her so I am able to dress.
Her eyes follow me around the room. “You do puzzle me sometimes.”
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We enter The Hanged Man close to mid morning and I am more than a little surprised to find Isabella both out of bed and coherent at this time. She smiles at us and waves us over, then returns her attention to the cards in her hand. Across the table from her sits Lyna her four circular cars pushed into a neat pile and placed face down on the table in front of her. Her hands weaving an intricate dance as she speaks seemingly lost in whatever tail she is spinning. “… I thought they were either crazy or joking but no, we climb out of the caves onto this plateau and there swooping above our heads is a high dragon. Not your little Draginlings that you usually come across. This thing is at least as tall as ten houses. And I’ve just been speaking to a bunch of nut jobs that genuinely believed to be the reincarnation of Andraste’s herself.”
Isabella eyes lift from her cards and she shoot the energetic elf a disbelieving look. “A dragon?”
“I swear by the Dread Wolf.” We come closer to the pair and I let my grip on Merrill’s hand go lax, trying to ignore the questioning look in her eyes as I do so. “Somehow these maniacs had got some blood from the thing and suddenly really I’m glad I didn’t pick a fight.” Isabella nods with her eyebrows raised up high to show her disbelief at the story, pushing a single card away from her and reaching for the pile to take another. Without waning Lyna’s hand covers Isabella’s wrist and turns it so her palm faces the ceiling, revelling the card tucked into the tunic at the sleeve. The warden pulls the small card from its confines and holds it between her thumb and forefinger. “Come on Isabella. How am I supposed to count cards if you keep cuffing them?”
Isabella’s response is to laugh. “You want me to help you cheat?”
“I’m just saying. A little consideration would be nice.”
Upon reaching the table Merrill immediately goes behind her sister and wraps her arms around her neck in a friendly embrace. An innocent gesture of closeness that I can see could easily turn into a blood bath. Every muscle in the rouge elf tenses, ready to strike and I am already reaching for the blade at my hip as her hands rise to cover Merrill’s arms. My defensiveness is ill founded, as somehow Lyna has been able to detect the identity of her would be assailant and mealy rests her hands along Merrill’s forearms in greeting. The entire action happens far to fast for Merrill to even notice the change in her sister, though I do profess my love of her infinite innocence, sometimes when she puts herself such in danger, even accidentally it makes by blood run cold.
Lyna give a short sigh and doesn’t comment on the interaction. “Morning Merrill.” She says turning her head to run her eyes over me in such a way I feel the need to cross my arms over my chest. One of her eyebrow dips as she apprises me. “Morning Hawke.” She says slowly giving me the distinct impression she is trying to read my thoughts.
“Who’s winning?” Merrill asks completely oblivious to the tension between the warden and myself.
“She is.” Isabella says with a sneer, snatching her tankard of whisky from the table. She looks once more at her cards before throwing them on top of the pile of coins in the centre of the table. “When did you get so good at this?”
Lyna shrugs reaching out to claim the pot. “I had a good teacher.” A strange look passes between the pirate and warden for a moment. A silent exchange that I am not privy to and a quick as it appeared it is gone.
I make my way around the table and lower myself into the seat beside Isabella, watching Merrill, who still has her arms crossed around her sister’s neck, a confused expression colouring her face. “If you’re both cheating is it still a game?”
“Cheating is the game Kitten.” Isabella says, her eyes watching Lyna’s hands closely as she shuffles the deck. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to be drinking Hawke?”
“We came to see you.” I answer, casting a glance at the drink still clutched in her hand, wondering how she could possibly be still standing in the evening if this is how early she starts drinking.
“Ah. That means someone’s in peril and you can’t help but save them.” She throws the liquid to the back of her throat and places the tankard back down onto the table. “What is it this time? Noblewoman lost her son? Mabari Puppy stuck up a tree?”
Although I’m pretty certain Mabaris can’t climb trees I hold my tongue on the matter. “Walking dead at The Bone Pit.”
“Again?” She asks, accepting another hand from the elf across the table. “Just those lazy miners wanting a day off.”
I nod in agreement, there have been so many scares down at the mine it is difficult to take the men at their word. Lyna fans her cards out in front of her and scans her eyes over them, her face unchanging, as she looks them over. Her Wicked Grace face is a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately Merrill is looking over her shoulder. “I can never remember. Is having all the shield cards good?”
Without missing a beat Isabella is there. “Fold.”
“Just like old times.” Lyna says takeing the two bits from the centre of the table. “I take it you three will be going off to this mine then.”
Merrill unhooks her arms from around her sister and takes a step off to the side. “You’re not coming?”
She gathers up the cards and begins to shuffle them carefully keeping her eyes on her fast hands. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
There is no way I could possibly express how grateful I am at such a sentiment. I hardly want to lead the last remaining member of Merrill’s family into a fight after only knowing her for two days. After last night it is hardly the best second impression. So before anyone can protest I jump in. “I’ll get Varric and we’ll be off.”
“You want to take Varric down a mine.” Isabella says, turning to me and looking down her nose at me as if I have spontaneously grown a second head. “Underground.” She clarifies.
“I need a lock pick.” I say simply standing from the table.
Isabella can get a treasure chest open in ten heartbeats flat, is somehow always at my back and the best dullest I’ve ever met. Yet she always appears to be too distracted to be able to unlock a door or spot a trap. Also it would appear, completely unable to take a hint. She turns to Lyna and points an accusing finger in her direction. “I’m pretty sure you could pick a lock with your teeth.”
“I must remember to try that.” The warden says with a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s a challenge now.” She makes no further comment on the invitation and begins to slide the coins on the table into her purse.
“If you came with us…” Isabella starts leaning over the table in what I can only describe as a seductive way. “…You might be able to avoid shoe shopping.”
Somehow the elf is already on her feet, her twin blades thrown over one shoulder with her thumb hooked under the leather belt. “So where are we going again?” She asks lifting her eyebrows at me.
Well, isn’t that just bloody brilliant.

A/N – This chapter I admit was probably more for me than you guys. I needed to get into Hawke’s head and discovered she may just be an tiny bit boring. I retract that. Stoic, that’s what she is. And highly insecure I didn’t mean to do that, really didn’t but I kinda like it. What do you think?
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The First's Sister