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Blood Promise	By : Hikari86 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4556 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything Dragon Age. I claim no ownership and make no money/profit.

Chapter List
- 45
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- 47
The Black Waltz

Jordan was frustrated once again. Nothing about this night was going right. She knew the gala wasn't going to be great, but she didn't expect this. To think she actually saw someone strike her sister, and not because they were in the middle of a battle, but just for the reason that she was a mage! A mage trying to help her friend. Jordan cursed herself for not intervening sooner. She could have prevented it. She could have walked up to Ruxton and told him to sod off for bothering Sacha. Instead she had just stood there and watched, just like all the rest of the nobles.
Jordan was leaning her back against one of the pillars in the entryway to the keep, concealed in shadow. Both her hands clenched in tight fists, beating silently against the stone. Her eyes were to the stars, her mind whirling with everything that had occurred. But even with the hitting, the thing that bothered Jordan the most was Bethany had said it wasn't the first time. Jordan reeled from this. Had she meant by other nobles? Had Bethany be struck before at these events? If so, then Jordan needed to make sure she did go to more, so she could watch her little sister and protect her. But then again, maybe it wasn't nobles hitting her.
Templars. Yes, that had to be it. But who, and why? If Jordan ever found out who, she didn't care if she would be placed in prison or hanged, she would march right into the Gallows and gut the son of a bitch who was harming her sister. Bethany, nor any other mage, didn't deserve whatever punishment they were giving them. Jordan regretted leaving the gala so soon without a chance to talk with Bethany about it. She would have to make a trip to the Gallows in order to get more information. Whether her sister was willing to give her the information or not.
“Well here's a surprise.”
Jordan rolled her eyes, placing them on Isabela as the pirate strolled over to where she was standing.
“I thought I'd find you in the keep, not outside of it.” Isabela smirked.
“There was an issue,” Jordan heaved.
“Oh really? You know, that disappoints me a little. Here I had the perfect way of getting you out, and now I can't even use it.” She puffed out her bottom lip.
Jordan rolled her eyes again. “I don't know if I'm in the mood to go to the Hanged Man now, Isabela.”
“Okay?” Isabela stared at her confused. “That's not like you at all. Care to tell me what happened?”
“Not now.” Jordan looked away.
“Hey, I don't know what happened, but that doesn't mean you aren't coming with me. I think you might actually need this.” Isabela reached into the shadows and pulled Jordan out by her arm.
“Hey--!”
“Ooh!” Isabela cooed as she stared at Jordan in the light. “Maker, Jordan! Do you know how stunning you look in that dress?”
“Stop it.” Jordan retched her arm from Isabela's hold. “I'm not in the mood.”
“Obviously,” Isabela half-smiled. “Where'd you get this?” She picked up the pendent from Jordan's chest and examined it. “I don't remember you having anything like this.”
“It's Anders'. He gave it to me.”
“Did he?” Isabela's eyebrow raised.
“Yes. It's his Grey Warden pendent.”
“Really?” Isabela was surprised. She placed the pendent back down. “There's not much I know about Grey Wardens—except they're sensational in bed,” Isabela smirked, looking as if she was remembering something pleasant. “But I do know their pendents mean something to them. So if he gave you that...”
“I'm pretty sure he only gave it to me because I needed something to wear,” Jordan sighed, even though she was hoping it was what Isabela was trying to imply. She remembered the way he looked at her. Maybe it was for a special purpose.
“Well he's there, right now,” said Isabela. “In fact, all of us are, and they're all waiting for me to return with you.”
Realizing that Anders was at the Hanged Man waiting for her, Jordan relaxed a little, feeling better. “I guess I could use a stiff drink right about now.”
“Excellent! But first, we need to do something about your wardrobe.”
“I thought you like it?”
“I do, but it's not really the proper attire for the Hanged Man. Let's see, I think if I take some of this off...” Taking her small blade, Isabela grabbed Jordan's skirt and began cutting.
“Isabela!” Jordan heaved, trying to get away.
“Hold still. If you move, I might hit you.” Isabela continued as she cut through the fabric, ripping pieces off until she was done. “There. Perfect.” She smiled as she admired her work.
Jordan looked down at her now shredded dress. Most of the skirt was done, stopping right in the middle of her knees and hips, exposing her legs. The remainder of her skirt hung loosely from her hips. “Great. My mother is just going to love seeing this!”
“She'll get over it,” Isabela waved. “Besides, it wasn't like you were going to wear it again anyway. Now are you ready?”
“For what?”
Isabela's eyes twinkled. “For a real party.”
***
There was a buzz in the air, flowing smooth and bold. When Isabela opened the tavern doors, Jordan was bombarded by sound. Harsh drums. Quick strings. High flutes. The atmosphere was electric, the music filling the air within the tavern free and spirited. Much more fun and enlightening than the dull, slow, foreboding music that was being played at the gala. No, this was music one could dance to.
There were lots of people in the tavern, more than Jordan had ever seen before. Many of them were clapping along with the music, creating their own instrument. Everyone seemed to be facing towards the center, to an area that had been cleared of tables and chairs. As Isabela lead Jordan through the crowd, she could see on the dance floor several men, about five of them, dancing with a single female. And to her astonishment, it was Merrill.
The Dalish elf was joyfully twirling around, lithely stepping to the beat of the music as she was passed from one man to the next. There was a huge smile on her, and each man who was dancing with her appeared to not be able to take their eyes from her infectious grin. Jordan even found herself smiling at Merrill, enjoying her laughter and entertained by the way she moved.
“I taught her well, didn't I?” Isabela smirked as she, too, stared at Merrill, but more like a proud teacher.
“I'd have to say yes,” Jordan laughed. “She's got those men eating out of the palm of her hand!”
The music finally ceased, and the whole tavern went wild. Merrill, appearing exhausted, but glowing, nodding to her five dance partners before making her way from the dance floor. The music started up again, a different song, but still having a beat that was hard for people to keep their feet from tapping. When Merrill spotted Isabela and Jordan, she squealed and sprinted towards them.
“Jordan! I'm so glad you're here!” She gave Jordan a big hug before backing away and beaming.
“That sure was some smooth moves out there, Merrill,” Jordan smiled. “I guess elves do prance around in the woods, after all.”
“No, we don't prance, we frolic. And I wouldn't really say that's the same thing...”
“I'm just teasing, Merrill,” Jordan squinted.
“Oh, right!” Merrill laughed.
“So what's the celebration?”
“I believe it's the Hanged Man's bicentennial. Can you believe this tavern has been open that long? It's amazing!”
“It sure is.” Jordan looked around, trying to spot the others. “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, over here. In the usual spot.” Merrill grabbed Jordan's hand and pulled her through the crowd to the far right corner of the tavern, Isabela following right after.
When they reached the corner, sitting at their usual table, Jordan was surprised to see that everyone was there. Including Sebastian. She just now realizing he wasn't at the gala. She found it strange, considering he was a prince, after all, even if he was also a priest. But then again, maybe the viscount hadn't invited him because he didn't want a prince taking away any of the attention from Saemus, which was something likely to happen. Jordan had to laugh at the thought. Saemus, no doubt, wouldn't have minded.
“Hey, Hawke!” Varric said as he looked up from his card game. “I see Rivaini got you out okay. Was the story plausible?”
“I wasn't able to use it, Varric,” Isabela pouted. “Jordan was out already.”
“Really? How'd you manage that?”
“It's, uh... something I can tell you about later,” said Jordan. She wasn't really in the mood to explain to them about her sister getting hit. She noticed around the table everyone was staring at her. Both Aveline and Sebastian smiled up, beaming at her. Fenris and Anders, however, their eyes wide and searching, both of them intrigue and not noticing the other gazing at her in the same fashion.
Anders spoke first. “What happened to your dress?”
“Isabela,” Jordan smiled.
He frowned at her.
“Nothing like that, although she wishes.” Jordan smirked as she heard Isabela snort behind her. “She just thought I'd look better coming to the Hanged Man in a short skirt. What do you think? Better or worse?”
“I'm... not... sure...” Anders's eyes traveled down to her exposed legs before quickly bringing them back up to her face.
“I think it's a little inappropriate,” said Sebastian. “But then again, I suppose I've seen worse.”
“So what are you guys playing?” Jordan asked, wanting to get off the subject of her.
“Diamondback, what else?” Varric mused. “Care to join? Rivaini, you can come back. I'm sure Choir Boy wouldn't mind giving your cards back.”
“I'm still not sure I understand this game,” Sebastian said, staring at the cards in his hand, seeming confused.
“Actually, Varric, I'm thinking I want to dance.” Isabela stared off at the cleared floor where a whole new group of dancers were twirling about. “Care to join me, dwarf?” she asked, looking back at him.
Varric gave her a cocky smile. “Rivaini, have you ever seen a dwarf dance?”
“Hmm... No, I don't think I ever have, now that I think about it.”
“It's because we don't. Trust me, you don't want to see me dance, it's horrible. Besides, Bianca will become jealous.”
“Oh right, Bianca.” Isabela rolled her eyes. “What about the rest of you, hmm?” Isabela stared at Anders, Fenris, and Sebastian in turn. All three of them looked away from her. “Come on, you can't tell me neither of you are willing to dance with us three girls?”
“I don't dance,” Fenris said sharply.
“Anders?” Jordan pouted, staring at him.
He looked away from her pleading eyes, pretending to concentrate on his cards. “I think I'll... pass.”
Jordan sighed. At some point she vowed to get him out of that chair tonight. “What about you, Sebastian? You can't tell me as a prince you didn't learn some type of dance!”
“Well of course I did,” he said. “But nothing to this sort of music. I mean, maybe I'd be able to dance with one of you ladies if the band happened to start playing either a minuet or a waltz...”
“Oh forget this guys!” Isabela heaved. “I guess it's just us girls. Come on, Aveline.” Isabela grabbed Aveline by the arm and hoisted the warrior to her feet.
“Hey!” She glared at Isabela. “Who says I want to?”
“Come on, Aveline, it won't be so bad,” Jordan smiled as she grabbed Aveline's other arm.
“Are we ready?” said Isabela.
“Yes—no, wait! Let me take these off first.” Jordan kicked off her shoes and stretched out her toes on the wooden floor. “Ah, much better. Now let's show this tavern what four women can do!”
Despite Aveline's protests, the four women went out on the dance floor together and took to the music. It was another fast-paced piece with the two fiddle players competing against each other to see who could play the fastest without losing a beat. Isabela and Jordan went along with it, dancing around each other, clapping hands, stomping feet, and bumping hips. Jordan's shortened skirt would occasional lift when she twirled, causing Isabela at one point to slap her on the behind.
Merrill had fun dancing around them, either on her own or sometimes going and grabbing a man by the hand from the side and pulling him in to dance with her. Aveline, reluctant in the beginning, eventually let herself be captured by the music. She would sometimes dance with Merrill, but mostly was with Isabela and Jordan. The three women would join hands and dance in a circle, twisting and pulling, laughing and giggling.
Around them others joined on the floor, going along with the music. There was also clapping from on-lookers, laughter and cheers. At tables, others played games. Not just Wicked Grace and Diamondback, but also Liar Dice, Five Finger Fillet, and all sorts of other drinking games. In a corner next to the bar, men were throwing knives at a bulleyes. The waitresses of the tavern traveled around, carrying mugs full of ale and delivering them to any who needed a drink. After their last dance, Jordan stopped one of the barmaids and took a mug, nearly depleting it from her thrust.
“You lying, bastard!” a man shouted at the table right beside her. “You've got a six under there, I know it!”
“No I don't,” said a second man.
“If you don't, then lift up your cup and show everyone!”
“I don't have to do that! That's not how you play the game.”
“You little asshole. Give me that cup!” The first man lunged across the table and grabbed the second man's cup. The second man fought hard to keep his cup on the table, but he was smaller and failed. When his cup was finally lifted, the die underneath showed he had at least two sixes. “I knew it! I knew it!” the first man screamed. “You son of a bitch!”
“Hey, that's how you play the game, Claude,” the second man said, backing away from the table.
The first man glared at him. “I know that's how you play the game, but you're the reason why I'm down three sovereigns. Now you better pay me that back, or I'm going to forcefully taken it from you.”
“I'd like to see you try.”
The first man didn't hesitate. He lifted the table, spilling the cups, die, and drinks all over the floor. He was on the second man in a flash, the two punching and hitting with the spectators moving out of the way so they didn't get hit. The fight only lasted less than a minute, the bartender having stopped the two men before they could cause any more damage to the tavern. When the two men were pulled apart, they actually started laughing at each other. A barmaid handed them drinks. They clinked the two mugs together and drank down, the argument from before forgotten. Jordan just shook her head and smiled as she drank the rest of her ale. A fight in Lowtown. Much more civilized and quick than one in Hightown.
“Hey, there you are!” said Isabela. “Come on, we're not done yet.”
“Right, coming!” Jordan placed down her mug and rejoined Isabela, Aveline, and Merrill on the dance floor.
They continued to dance for a few more songs, having fun and also starting to get male dance partners from men who decided they wanted to join them.
“Hey, Aveline,” Isabela smiled. “You know what you should do?”
“By the way you're looking at me, I don't want to know,” Aveline said as she backed away from the pirate.
“Oh, it won't be that bad. I suggest you go over and ask Donnic to dance with you.”
“What?” Aveline's eyes went wide.
“Oh yeah!” Jordan brightened. “That's Donnic over there, isn't it? I've noticed his been watching you, Aveline.”
“Yeah, so have I,” Isabela smirked. “He hasn't taken his eyes off her since she started dancing. What do you say, Aveline? Go ask him to dance.”
“Um... no,” Aveline said, looking away. “In fact, I think I should stop.”
“Why? Because you're having fun?”
“No, it's because Donnic is seeing his captain acting like an idiot. I must have appeared foolish to him.”
“I wouldn't say that,” said Jordan. “You were having fun. There's nothing foolish about that.”
“I think I'm going to be done anyway. I'm tired.”
“Oh, Aveline,” Isabela said, rolling her eyes.
Aveline glared at the pirate as she made her way back to the table their other friends were at, still playing cards.
“I think we should rest too,” said Jordan, a little winded.
“You as well?” Isabela pouted.
“Oh no, I'm not done. But do you hear that? No music. Which probably means the band's taking a break. Come on, let's get something to drink and see what the guys are doing.”
As they made their way back to the table, Jordan spotted the men still throwing knives. They were now blindfolding each other, then spinning around before trying to throw the knife. The man blindfolded spun a few times, stopped and nearly fell over. He then went to throw the knife, but instead of at the bullseye, threw it into the crowd. The knife landed in the middle of a table, surprising a few card players. Jordan went and picked up the knife, and walked over to them.
“Good evening, boys,” she smiled. “Having fun throwing knives, are we?”
“Hey, it's Hawke!” cried the man with the blindfold as he took it off.
“Good evening, lass,” said the other man, the one who had spun the first. “Care to test to see if your skills are as legendary as the storyteller says they are?” The first man completely took off his blindfold and handed it to her.
Jordan eyed them both. “So you're wanting me to put this on, then the two of you spin me around, and I try and throw this knife at the target?”
“You're Hawke, right?” the second man grinned. “If you're as good as they say, then it should be no trouble for you!”
“Hmm, except I'm not that stupid.” Jordan flipped the knife in her hand. “It's one thing to throw a knife at a bullseye when you can't see it. It's another when you don't even know where it is. Do you realize you could have killed someone?”
The two men looked at each other and shrugged. “No,” they both said. They then laughed together, obviously drunk.
Jordan rolled her eyes. “Watch and learn, boys.” Jordan took the blindfold and tied it around her eyes. She then put up her finger and wiggled it at the two men. “No, no. I'll spin myself, thank you.” The two men frowned, having wanted to spin her themselves.
With the knife tight in her hand, Jordan took a sharp turn and spun round and around at a dizzying speed. She could feel her skirt lifting, and knowing full well the men were distracted by it, hitched up the blindfold from one eye to get a pick. Once she knew where the target once, she stopped abruptly and threw the knife. It landed right in the center of the bullseye. Both men's mouths dropped at the sight. Jordan smirked as she handed back the blindfold and made her way back to Varric's table.
“Showing off again, Hawke?” Varric grinned at her.
“Just giving you more fuel for your stories, Varric.” Jordan sat down next to Anders and saw he had a mug in front of him, untouched. “You gonna drink that?”
“Not really,” he said, keeping his eyes on the cards.
Jordan took his mug and started drinking down his ale. “Is this really all you're going to do?” she asked. “Don't you want to have fun?”
“But playing cards with Varric is fun,” Anders said, gazing at her. “Because I'm his partner, and you have Isabela occupied, I'm actually winning for once.”
“Not by much, Blondie,” Varric added.
“It's still a lot better than what I usually do.”
“Isabela, will you get off me!” Fenris growled. Jordan looked over to see Isabela was sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Fenris, Fenris,” Isabela said, stroking his hair. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your eyes? I love elven eyes. I just want to pluck them out and wear them as a necklace.”
“I wouldn't advice it.” He glared at her.
“And that look!” Isabela purred.
“Just get off!” Fenris pushed her off his lap. Isabela just laughed at him as her feet hit the floor. She then turned to Jordan.
“Care to join me on the dance floor again?” she asked, extending out her hand. “I believe the band is getting ready to play again.”
“Hmm, maybe.” Jordan looked over at the band, seeing as they were going back to their seats and taking out their instruments. “I'd love to go back, but I would prefer if you went with me.” Her gaze had fallen on Anders.
Anders looked at her puzzled. “I'm in the middle of a game, Jordan. And... I don't dance.”
“Oh? Do you not know how?”
“No, I... do. I just don't...”
“Please, Anders,” Jordan said as she fluttered her eyelashes at him and pouted out her lip. “Please dance with me, just once.”
Anders gawked at her, his mouth twitching.
“Go on, Blondie,” Varric smiled. “Give the lady what she wants.”
Anders turned and sneered at him, but eventually sighed and laid down his cards before looking back at Jordan. “Alright, Jordan. One song.”
“Then I have the perfect one in mind,” Jordan beamed. “That is if the band knows how to play it. Come on!” Grabbing Anders's arm, Jordan hoisted him out of his seat as he gave her a bewildered look. When they reached the edge of the dance floor, Jordan stopped and looked toward the band. “Wait here.”
“Hang on, Jordan!” Anders cried as she left his side.
As Jordan made her way over to the band, she hoped they could play the song she was thinking of, but knows it'll probably be a long shot. After all, the song is old, and more something you would hear from a fancy, first class band, than one you would find in a pub.
“Hello there, gentlemen,” Jordan said as she reached the band.
“My lady,” one of the fiddle players bowed. “Is there something we can do for you?”
“You don't happen to take requests, do you?”
“Of course! Anything in particularly you would like to hear this evening?”
“Well... I'm not sure if you know it, but... I was hoping you might be able to play the Black Waltz?” Jordan asked as she bit her lower lip.
“The Black Waltz?” said the fiddle player. “Actually... we do know that one.”
“Really?”
“Only fancy song we know, to be honest. One of my favorites. Won't be the same as hearing it in Higtown, but we'll do our best.”
“That's all I can ask for. Thank you so much.” Jordan bowed to them before making her way back to Anders.
“What song did you ask for?” he asked her when she returned.
“The Black Waltz.”
“Why did you pick that song?”
“Because,” Jordan said, looking away from him. “It's the song my mother and father danced to for the very first time. I've always wanted to hear it.”
“Oh.” Anders looked down at the floor before staring at her. “Well then, shall we?” Offering his hand, Jordan took it and together they walked onto the dance floor. Once they reached the center, Anders took Jordan and placed her in front of him. He then wrapped his right arm around her waist and held her right hand in his left. “Put your other hand on my shoulder,” he told her.
“Something tells me you've done this before,” Jordan said as she did so.
“Maybe I do know how to dance,” Anders smiled, his cheeks growing a little red. “And we're going to need to get a little closer.” The hand on her waist pushed her closer to him, their bodies nearly touching.
Jordan gazed into Anders's soft brown eyes, marveling at their beauty. She could feel her heart already starting to beat fast, her lungs pulling in air, even though they hadn't started moving yet. Just being this close to him, with his hand on her waist, sent electrical sparks throughout her whole body. She then noticed in the corner of her eye that everyone at their table was staring at them, having stopped playing cards just to watch. Jordan took her eyes away from Anders to see their curious faces. Varric smiling from ear to ear, no doubt already concocting a story in his head. Everyone seemed pleased, happy, amused. Then she saw Fenris, his eyes dilute and sad almost, but his posture was tense, nearly furious. Jordan wanted to analyze him further, but she couldn't when she heard the music start. She brought her attention back to Anders.
The song started out with a single fiddle, the music flowing from its strings low and ominous, a slightly sad melody. As it continued, the second fiddle joined in, higher than the first, causing the melody to shift. Soon the flute followed, then the rest of the band, creating a sweet and flowing sound. Anders started moving her right at that point, his hand on her waist guiding her as they gliding with the music.
“Is this something else you learned in the tower?” Jordan asked as they moved. “To try and impress the ladies?”
Anders chuckled at her. “Actually, no. This skill I didn't acquire until I joined the Grey Wardens, believe it or not.”
The first fiddle began its solo performance, an enticing piece, faster and lighter than the beginning with more flair.
“The Grey Wardens taught you to dance? I find that kind of odd. I thought all Wardens did was fight darkspawn.”
“That's what we do most of the time, but there is the occasional moment when we can relax and have fun. Dancing wasn't my first choice, but I wouldn't say it was horrible.”
“Who taught you?”
Anders's eyes gleamed as he smiled down at her. “A redheaded elf.”
The chorus started again, the second fiddle and flute joining in with the first. The rest of the band struck up, the drums providing the beat their feet moved to. Jordan found she couldn't take her eyes away from Anders. He was so mesmerizing as he smiled at her. His eyes shinning, his face not etched with the worry it always carried. He appeared young and carefree, as if he was finally able to relax ever since he arrived in Kirkwall. The plight of mages wasn't on his mind at the moment. Instead it was the next move, where he would take Jordan next as they danced to the song her mother and father had fallen in love to.
The next verse started, only instead of one fiddle, both now played. Anders let go of Jordan's waist and spun her slowly. Jordan laughed when she nearly fell, but he caught her and brought her back to him before moving again just as the band really started to play. The fiddles and flute ringing high, filling the tavern with their magical sound. Jordan knew the version she was hearing wasn't nearly as lovely as the one her mother and father had heard on that destined night, but she really didn't care. This version was perfect.
When the music died, Anders stopped their dance and taking his hands from her, bowed. Jordan also bowed, appreciative of her dance partner. It wasn't until she came up from her bow did she notice they were the only ones on the dance floor. The entire tavern had been watching them, and once they were done, then started cheering and clapping. Jordan could feel her cheeks growing red, but waved and smiled to the crowd anyway. When she reached her friends' table, she noticed everyone beaming, all except Fenris who wasn't even there.
“Hey, where'd Fenris go?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh, I don't know,” said Varric. “I didn't see him get up. Maybe he had to use the privy or something. But let's talk about what we just witnessed.”
“Yes, I'm curious to know where you learned those moves,” Isabela to Anders as he joined the table. “They almost seemed familiar.”
Anders handed Jordan a drink before he sat down. “Can't you people just leave things alone for once?”
“Not when we see something like that!” Varric nearly shouted.
Anders rolled his eyes. “Hey, the band's starting back up again with some more livelier music.”
“He's right, Isabela, let's go,” said Jordan as she stood.
Isabela eyed the two before she stood and went with Jordan. “You better tell me what's going on between the two of you,” she said once they were on the dance floor again.
“Really, there's nothing going on between us,” said Jordan.
“Yes, and the way you two just danced together says you're just friends.” Isabela shook her head at Jordan. “You don't need to lie to me, Jordan. He's a handsome man, and I can tell you like him. He also likes you too. I see it sometimes when he stares at you.”
Jordan smiled. “Well, it's not like I don't want anything to happen between us. He's just... difficult.”
“Justice?”
“I believe so, but it's not that the spirit scares me. I think he doesn't like me. Oh well. I'll figure out a way soon enough.”
“That's my girl,” Isabela smirked. “Now let's take advantage of having the dance floor to ourselves while we have the chance.
“Right.” And with that, the party started up again.
***
“Ugh...” Jordan awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. She opened her eyes slowly, only to close them fast when the light from the sun blinded her. She moved her head away and stuffed her face in a pillow. Her eyes then popped open and she sprang her head up when she realized where she was. She was in her room, laying in her bed in nothing but her smallclothes. Her dress from last night was laying on the floor. She then began to panic, not seeing Anders's pendent any where. Scurrying off the bed and ignoring the pounding in her head, Jordan frantically looked around for it. She then stopped and felt her chest, realizing the pendent was still around her neck. Sighing with relief, she grabbed a robe and placed it around herself before sitting back on her bed. She then placed her head in her hands as her headache slammed against her skull.
“Jordan? You're awake.”
Jordan peered up to see her mother standing in the doorway to her room. She was holding a tray with food, a sad expression on her face.
“Hi, Mother,” Jordan said softly, trying to smile.
Leandra made her way in and placed the tray down on Jordan's desk. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Horrible.” Jordan looked away from her mother, knowing where this was going. “How did I get home?”
“I believe that pirate friend of yours brought you. It was very late, and you were passed out.”
Jordan glanced at her mother, seeing she wasn't happy. “Were you the one that undressed me?”
“No.”
Jordan groaned.
“Jordan, we need to talk.” Leandra made her way to the bed and sat next to her daughter. This wasn't something Jordan really felt like doing at the moment. “I know you went to the Hanged Man after what happened, and I'm not mad about that--”
“But you are mad,” Jordan said, looking away.
“No, I'm not mad at all,” Leandra said slowly. “I do wish you would have come home sooner than you did and not as intoxicated as you were, but I suppose I can understand.” Leandra looked down at her hands. “After you left, I spoke to Bethany.”
“How is she?”
“She's all right. More worried about you than herself. But she told me all that happened, about how Ruxton Harimann was harassing one of her friends, and when she went to help, he hit her, then you attacked him. She didn't even know you were watching.”
Jordan stayed silent. Leandra already knew how she felt about the situation.
“I just want to say I'm sorry.”
Jordan turned and stared at her mother. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Because it's my fault we're here in the first place,” she sighed. “I'm the one who suggested we should come to Kirkwall to get away from the Blight. I also lead you to believe this was the life I wanted. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to make you feel this way.”
“Mother, it's not your fault.” Jordan scooted closer to her mother and hugged her. “Coming to Kirkwall was all of our decision. We decided it was the best choice because we had family here. Course, if we knew that family was Gamlen, then I'm sure we would have gone somewhere else. But in truth, I don't really regret coming here.”
“Are you sure?” Leandra said, peering at her daughter.
“Yes, Mother, I'm sure. And I also don't regret moving to Hightown. Sure our neighbors are horrible and all, and Bethany may be in the Circle, but you are safe. I feel like I can protect you better here than in Lowtown.”
Leandra smiled at her. “Thank you, sweetheart, for taking care of me. And if you don't want to, I won't make you go to anymore galas.”
“I don't think I'll be invited to anymore even if I wanted to, after last night,” Jordan shrugged.
“Maybe,” Leandra laughed slightly. “But you never know, dear. At any rate, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not mad, and I still love you, even if you do things I don't approve of.”
“Thanks, Mother.”
Leandra hugged her daughter before she stood. “Go ahead and eat, sweetheart, and I'll leave you to rest a little longer.” She then looked down at the black dress on the floor and frowned. Picking it up, she ran her fingers over the ripped part of the skirt and sighed.
“Sorry, Mother,” Jordan said, biting her lip.
“It's okay,” Leandra said as she folded the dress in her hands. “It's not like you were ever going to wear it again, right?” She then smiled at her. “Eat, dear. I can see you need it.” She then went and exited Jordan's room, leaving Jordan to contemplate everything that had occurred last night.

Paraphrasing from Dragon Age 2
The Black Waltz was also inspired by Two Steps From Hell's "Blackheart"
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