Always There, Part 1

Title: Always There, Part 1
Author: Kelticmoon
Game: Dragon Age 2
Pairings: Varric/Hawke friendship, the gang’s all here (except Sebastian because he’s not one of the group yet)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  Based on my Ororo Hawke play-through with minor spoilers; Also, depressed Hawke is depressed.

-Kirkwall 9:31 Dragon-

Ororo Hawke sat with her friends at their usual circle table at the Hanged Man one evening before sundown.  Her friends were taking turns telling stories about various shenanigans they’d gotten into or that other people they knew had gotten into.  Right now Isabella was regaling some wild tale about a ship she had once raided.
 
It had only been a month since she, Varric, and Aveline had returned from their expedition into the Deep Roads; four weeks since she’d had to kill her own brother out of mercy after he contracted the Blight from the Deep Roads.  After her mother’s horrendous reaction to Ororo’s news of Carver’s death, she’d left Gamlen’s and taken refuge at Varric’s place in the Hanged Man for a week.  She knew she probably worried Varric for a while when her appetite had abandoned her for a few days, in addition to the week following her brother’s death when she hadn’t eaten either (not to mention her crying non-stop and the temperature of his suite dropping about 30 degrees).  She’d stopped crying by the third day, started eating again on the fourth day, and had returned to Gamlen’s a few days after when her mother had gone to Aveline desperately looking for her, but she was still silent as she sat with her friends.  She was trying desperately to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and live her life; however she couldn’t help but think that maybe she shouldn’t have come.  She felt like her depressed state was bringing everyone down.  She could tell they all noticed she wasn’t herself still but they weren’t saying anything because they knew she was at least trying to live again.  She stared out the window of the Hanged Man at the sky as the sun was setting.  The sky through the window was splashed with the most beautiful shades of gold and crimson as she stared out the window.

“Now you tell one, Hawke!”

Ororo blinked as her attention snapped back to her friends as Isabella spoke to her.  “What should I tell?” she asked when she recovered.

“You must have some good stories from Fereldan,” said Anders said.

“I have many,” Ororo said staring into her mug of ale.  “Problem is I can’t seem to think of one.”

A bird flew in one of the high windows at the Hanged Man at that moment and flew to its nest on a rafter near their table, drawing her attention.  Ororo recognized the bird and was reminded of something from when she was younger, a small laugh slipping out as she looked back at the table.

“What’s so funny?” Varric asked with a smile, as everyone at the table had a collective look that could only be described as relieved surprise as they saw her laugh for the first time since before Carver died.

Ororo shook her head gently and looked at them as she said, “It’s nothing.  I just remembered something from when I was a kid.”

“Tell us,” Aveline coaxed with a smile.

“No, it’s silly; if not a little boring.  Just the innocence of a child,” Ororo said softly, a small smile still lingering on her face.

“Oh please tell it!” Merrill said, earnestly.  “I love to hear silly stories!”  Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.

“Well…Alright,” Ororo said hesitantly as she looked at them.  “I don’t know where the idea came from but when I was about five, maybe six; I used to think that birds were the spirits of loved ones who have died.  Of course my parents told me that we return to the Maker when we die, but I don’t think they minded the sentiment, so after a while they just accepted it.  Well, a few days after Bethy and Carver were born, my Mother had received word that my grandparents had passed away; I was helping her with Bethany and Carver a week later when I saw two sparrows sitting in the tree outside the window.  I was trying to cheer her up so I pointed out the sparrows to her and said, ‘Look, grandma and grandpa came to see you.’”  Ororo smiled and said, “It got her to smile at least.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Isabella said as everyone smiled.

“Thanks,” Ororo said, before continuing.  “After that, it sort of became something of a… I don’t know if “inside joke” is the right wording exactly… it became a thing in our family; only my parents, Bethany, and Carver knew about it.  It was such a thing that whenever we attended the funeral of a family friend, if we saw a bird nearby we would say they were paying us a visit.  Or whenever there was a blizzard or a storm of some sort that kept us in, we would sit around and think of what kind of bird everyone we knew would be.  One time, my family all asked me what bird I thought they would be.  I told them that Papa would be a big brown hawk with black wings, Mother would be a medium grayish white hawk, Bethy would be a small gray hawk, and Carver would be a small brown hawk.  Several years later; I’m 21 years old and Papa had just died.  After the funeral, I was sitting in the house with Mother and we were all just really missing Papa.  Suddenly, Bethy (who must have been 15 at the time) comes running into the house and grabs me by the hand saying, ‘Mother!  Sister! You have to see this!’  She led me outside where Carver was still standing and pointed at the roof of our house.”

Merrill was wide eyed.  “What was on the house?” Merrill asked enthusiastically.

Ororo smiled wider at Merrill.  Merrill reminded her of Bethy sometimes.  Bethy always loved Ororo’s stories too.  She was so focused on Merrill that she didn’t notice how the others exchanged a smile of their own.  “There, on the roof of the house, sat this huge brown hawk with black wings and a black tail,” she said.

Merrill gasped.  “Just like how you said your father would be if he were a bird!” she exclaimed.

“That’s right,” Ororo agreed with a laugh.  “Just like how I described Papa looking if he were a bird.  Carver, Bethy, and Mother remembered too.  It might have just been a coincidence but” Ororo looked down at her mug of ale with a soft smile as she added”…at the time; it meant the world to us.  The idea that father was still able to be with us was a feeling that I can never describe.  Like he was telling us that he was always going to be there.”

“What reminded you of this story?” Fenris asked.

Ororo pointed at the rafter with the nest on it and the others look and gasped.  The bird that had flown in the window was a large brown hawk and in the nest were two smaller ones; a gray one and a brown one.

“That’s actually kinda cool,” Varric said, as everyone looked back at Ororo.

“It’s a nice sentiment, at any rate,” Aveline stated as she took a sip of her ale.

“I wonder what bird I would be,” Merrill wondered aloud.

“Hmm…” Ororo said as she stared at Merrill thoughtfully.  “You would probably be a chickadee or some other type of small bird with a dark cap.”

Merrill beamed.  “I love chickadees!”

“What about the rest of us?” Isabella asked, eagerly.

“Hmmm…” Ororo had to think for a moment before point from Fenris who was seated next to her and went around the table to Aveline, Anders, and finally to Isabella and said, “falcon, eagle, swan, and seagull.”

“You forgot me,” Varric said from his seat on the other side of her.

Ororo gently bumped shoulders with Varric.  “I would never forget you, Varric,” she told him with affection.  “I was saving you for last.  You’d be a parrot.”

Varric laughed.  “A parrot? Seriously?”

“Yes, a parrot,” Ororo said with a laugh.  “How else would you be able to spin your tall tales?”

Everyone laughed at that, including Varric.  When the laughter died down, Aveline asked, “what about you, Hawke?”

“Yes, what bird would you be?” Merrill asked.

“Bethy asked me that too,” Ororo said with a grin.

“Why she’d be a hawk, of course!” Varric declared.
Ororo smiled.  “Not just any hawk.  I’d be a snow white hawk,” she said, firmly.

“There’s no such thing as a white hawk,” Anders stated taking a drink from his mug.

Ororo’s smile faded.  “Did I say you were a ‘swan’?  I meant ‘goose’,” she said flatly, getting a laugh out of Varric and Isabella. “Carver used to say the exact same thing; that there are gray hawks and brown hawks, but no white hawks,” she added with a sigh, staring sadly into her mug.  She didn’t notice both Isabella and Aveline smacking Anders upside the head for the offense.

Varric put his hand on Ororo’s shoulder and said, “Don’t listen to Blondie.  Rule number 1 of storytelling; never let logic get in the way of a good story.”

Ororo couldn’t help but laugh.  Varric always had that effect on her.  “Is that your advice from a professional storyteller?” she asked him fondly.

“But of course, messere!” he responded with a smile.  “Besides, a white hawk fits you perfectly; what with the snow and ice thing and all.”

“Then a snow white hawk it is!”Ororo said with a smile.