Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God?
Example, if your muse kisses another muse, it is totally fine for you to get on anon and congratulate my muse, or to say that the other muse isn’t right for them. I will answer ic.
companions in origins: we will follow the warden through fire and darkness to save ferelden
companions in inquisition: we will follow the inquisitor through tears in the veil itself to save thedas
companions in dragon age 2: we will follow hawke because we love hawke. hawke has no idea where they’re going and sometimes we’re just standing still for long periods of time while hawke thinks of a witty comeback. oh okay we’re following hawke to the tavern i guess. is that guy pissing in the street? we love hawke
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. He’d kept on drinking after Varric left and this was some kind of fucked-up dream after he’d moved on to the rum. The rum always screwed with his head. There was no way Varric had pulled this kind of bait and switch on him.
Except that this was exactly the sort of thing that Varric would do.
He didn’t have the space inside him to be angry. Shocked, maybe, definitely dumbfounded, but with his entire being focused on the woman sitting across from him, anger wasn’t a word in his vocabulary at that moment. The first time in two, three months? He’d wondered about it before, whether he’d just meet her on the street one day, or at the pub she liked once he’d worked up the courage to go back there on the off chance that maybe, just maybe… He’d imagined it’d be sunny, and the beer garden would be open and the crappy old sunshades up over the tables. She’d be sitting with a bottle of beer – the good kind they only let you have if you had a tab – and she’d be so surprised to see him when he put the next bottle in front of her. And the flowers. Sometimes it was roses, or those huge daisies from Merrill’s shop in every colour they had, but it was always beer and flowers. Marian wasn’t the sort of girl to settle for less than that. He’d—- he’d tell her he was sorry. He’d ask her—–
None of that was happening now, though. There was no pub garden and no flowers, he was hungover and she was staring at him as though he’d broken her heart all over again. And none of it mentioned the A-word. Not ever.
“ Annullment? ” Shit. It felt as though the floor had vanished beneath him, his stomach sinking to his shoes. “ Did you? I— I didn’t… ”
“ And that’s my cue to leave. ” Dusting off his corduroys, Varric rose, his smirk far too wide for this depressing circus show. “ You kids keep it PG, alright? ” And before either of them could stop him – as if they even had the wherewithal to do so, he made his escape, the door snapping shut behind him.
What followed had to be one of the most excruciating silences of Kili’s life to date.
“ He… ” Kieran swallowed, his throat suddenly much too dry. It could have been the hangover, but the redness around her eyes was a much safer bet. She looked like she’d been drinking, or—- no, for his own self-preservation, he was going to say drinking, and he would not ask himself why.
He failed.
“ …I had an appointment. I didn’t—- ‘Come at three’, he said. I’d drank quite a bit, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. I didn’t expect you’d… you look—– ”
Terrible. Exhausted. Downright fucking tragic.
“ You look really great, Marian. ”
Kieran’s stunned expression and fumbling words weren’t aligning with Marian’s assumption that he’d moved on and was here to collect his freedom.
Varric slipped out the door like smoke, leaving them to stare in silence. Kieran broke it first–sort of. His confusion was more than apparent, and Marian’s guess was right: he had been drinking. With her therapist. The keeper of all her secrets and psychological blooper reel. She touched her fingertips to her brow, trying not to let that thought sink in too deep. One thing at a time.
His ‘really great’ compliment got little more than a scoff. She looked as awful as he did. Not like after Oktoberfest awful (her husband had been so sick Marian taken a vacation day to stay home with him) but pretty close.
“So you were tricked into coming.” Marian blanched when it sounded even worse out loud. “Shit, isn’t that just–” she found herself at a loss for words. The old Hawke would have laughed her face off if this were happening to anyone but her. Hell, she would have probably been involved. Like that unforgettable fiasco with Donnic. “Just perfect,” she conceded. “Well, welcome to where I go when my life reaches new lows. The door doesn’t lock from the outside. Trust me I’ve checked a few times.”
“And yeah, when I didn’t hear from you after months I got the annulment papers ready,” she shrugged. “At some point hope turns into denial.”
“Look, I’m sorry Varric dragged you into this. At the risk of repeating myself: you can leave if you want to. I’m not going to stop you.”
Marian Hawke 