Into the Woods (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Let My Love Open the Door

The mansion was as silent as ever; more so, now that Orana had taken a job as Aveline and Donnic's housekeeper. Kirkwall was an entirely different place than Jennie had left; in her absence, Knight-Commander Meredith's madness had boiled over, causing her to attack the mages in an ill-advised attempt to carry out the Rite of Tranquillity. The mages had fought back, making Kirkwall a battleground all over again, and when it was all over the Gallows and the Chantry lay in crumbled ruins. The city had looked to its Champion, but Jennie hadn't been there to help, so Aveline had stepped in, and Sebastian. Now Sebastian was Viscount of Kirkwall, Aveline his seneschal, and the name of Hawke was uttered with bitterness. Jennie was looked upon as having abandoned her city when it needed her most.

She kept to herself as much as possible, leaving the house only to visit Varric at the Hanged Man. The denizens of the bar had surrounded him, supporting his every need, and other than the scars on his face and his unseeing gaze, his life seemed to be more or less what it had been before the long journey. Jennie visited him regularly, and found it easy to forget that he couldn't see her—he was as observant and insightful as ever. But they never spoke of Zevran or Fergus. Neither one of them was ready for that.

Merrill was missing; she had disappeared from the alienage not long after the rest of them had left. Jennie thought about making a pilgrimage out to Sundermount to look for the little elf, but with no one available to accompany her, she didn't feel safe venturing into the Dalish camp. The elves had been hostile to them even before; depending on what had happened to Merrill, Jennie thought they might well be more than hostile now.

She sat across from Varric at the Hanged Man, moodily lifting the cup of ale to her lips, but the smell turned her stomach and she put it down again. Had she ever really enjoyed this place, with its filth and its squalor and its truly dreadful potables? She couldn't remember why, now, unless it had been because this was where the others were. Now it was just the two of them.

"Hawke, what are you waiting for?" Varric asked.

"Sorry. Just don't feel like drinking today, I suppose."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. You're sitting here in Kirkwall with nothing to do, pretending it's your home, when you and I both know that it never was. You put up with it because this is where your mother wanted you to be, and later because you felt a responsibility to be Champion. Pardon my bluntness, but both those reasons are history now."

She stared at him for a moment, then put the cup down. "Maybe so; but history is all I have."

"Judging by the way Cousland was glued to your side all the way back, I beg to differ."

"Aw, come on, Varric, who are we kidding? I'm not teyrna material, even if Fergus was serious." Varric started to argue, but she cut him off. "He's not here, is he? He went home and he looked around and he decided I didn't fit. And he was right."

"What about you? Don't you get to make your own decisions? Come on, Hawke. For all that you've been a leader, you've let everyone else tell you what to do and who to be. Your mother wanted to come to Kirkwall; you came to Kirkwall. Your uncle sold you to the mercenaries; you became a mercenary. Your sister wanted to be a noblewoman; you got back the Amell estate. Meredith called you a Champion; you became the Champion of Kirkwall. None of those things was ever you. So, for once in your life, sister, ask yourself, what in the name of Andraste's flaming bosom do you want?"

Hawke stared at her friend, open-mouthed. She'd never heard him speak with quite such vehemence before. "I—" She froze, trying to think of what she wanted. Then she took a breath, and stopped thinking, and just let the words come out. "I want to go home. And I want Fergus."