Under Darkness [AU]

[GamesMaster]

Content Note: This thread is very, very dark in tone. Contains domestic violence, grooming, abusive situations, rape, slavery, murder, suicide, self-harm, racism.

Things had been hard for Varric's daughter since her death. Her relationship with Lawful had crumbled; she had expressed hope that it might be restored, but her attempts to do so had been rebuffed, and she had recognized that time was needed to mend that fence. Flirty was gone, off on one of her adventures, possibly forever. Moonbeam and Flirts were still there for her, but there was a strain, a shadow in her eyes that he didn't know how to mend.

When she'd met Jadan, he'd had hope that things would improve. Jadan was a merchant, his blonde, tangled locks doing nothing to hide his pointed, silver-pierced ears. It was clear she took to him rapidly, much as she had with Anders. Also like Anders, however, Varric caught him at odd moments with a dark expression, as though he were trying to hide something. What, he couldn't say; even Varric's sources turned up nothing on the recent immigrant, though he'd reached out to contacts in other cities to try and figure out where he was from at least.

Jadan doted on Marian, however. He spent considerable time and attention on her, praising her heroics and taking her on lavish dates to win her affections. Before long, she was sleeping with him most nights, though she made time for Flirts and Moonbeam in the afternoons. After considerable effort, Varric had settled on Prince Charming for his nickname, given the way he seemed to go over the top with affection. Privately, Varric was concerned he ought to change it to Prince Brooding, but he hadn't spoken that aloud. He didn't want anything to come between him and his daughter, not again.

All was not well with Hawke, however. Maybe it was the shadow of her resurrection, or the fact that her Clan was barely holding together. Varric had caught her staying up all night on several occasions when she'd slept at his place, though he had less access to her in the evenings than he'd like. Worse, she'd become withdrawn, quiet. She put on an effort to be cheery, but it was clearly an effort, clearly a strain for her. He knew deep down she was hurting, but he didn't know how to help except to offer to listen to whatever she needed to speak of. She had yet to take him up on that offer.

Charming had come up with the quest, and Hawke had accepted, despite knowing that it would take her from Nyra for perhaps three or four months. They had all wanted to come with her, but she'd refused; there had been fighting about it, but Hawke had won. Moonbeam had had the most success: rather than argue about coming with or not, she'd quietly packed and followed after, figuring Hawke wouldn't send her back. Hawke had promised to write, but the letters had come sporadically. Perhaps some had been lost, or perhaps she was too tired or too busy to write more frequently. When they stopped altogether, it was cause for alarm, but there had been nothing in the earlier letters to indicate that she was in over her head, so they had to trust that she would return.

Only, she didn't return. The estimated date of her return came and went without so much as a letter. Varric's contacts heard nothing either; it was as if she vanished off the face of Aldis. Flirts went searching for signs himself, but came up empty-handed. No-one was even sure what direction they had gone; the towns she had mentioned passing through didn't recall any adventuring party matching her and Jadan's descriptions.

Helene, the Oracle, had been the one to find her -- or rather, Jadan. It was their third attempt at scrying when they finally got through, catching a brief glimpse of him walking through tunnels underground. They had seen enough of the surroundings to know where the pair had gone: into the Underdark, well away from the adventure they had claimed to be going on. There was no sign of Hawke, but they had to assume they were still together. Right?

The pair of them had packed and left within the hour, taking only the people they could grab in a hurry (and paying through the nose for some of their help). The trip into the underdark took maddeningly long, especially as they had to be careful not to alarm the Drow that lived therein. Helene was a boon for that, using their augury skills to show them which way to go, which tunnels were alarmed. Flirts' ability to walk softly and move silently helped as well, and Varric's invisibility potions.

Invisible and quiet, the pair had made their way toward where Helene's auguries had said they would find Jadan. After several turns, they began to hear voices: or rather, a voice, male, the tone angry but quiet enough that the words were inaudible. And then, they heard the worst of all possible sounds: Marian's voice, raised with fear, crying out, "Please, don't!"

And then one worse: the sound of a sword scraping slightly against a scabbard.

They ran, abandoning all pretense of stealth, weapons at the ready. They kicked down the door, bursting into the room to see Jadan from behind (was his hair paler than it had been?) just as he thrust forward, into... Marian was kneeling before him, eyes wide and shining with terror, face pale. Her hands were bound behind her back, but she made no sound as the sword hit home, burying itself in her chest.

The light in her eyes guttered, dimmed, died.

[Tag @Kae to murder the fuck out of Jadan]

[Tethras Clan]

Varric is a being of logic. Reason. Cool intellect and meticulous planning. His rage is much the same. Cold. Focused. Not remotely apathetic, but clinical and remote. His eyes are blank, to point that those unskilled in reading people might think him bored or even sleepy. His movements, his actions, are deliberate and precise with no wasted movement or flair to them. Orderly. Smooth. The only dint of emotion anywhere on him is his mouth: the corners are slightly quirked upwards in what could be a faint smile but clashes so badly with the rest of his placid expression that it comes off alien and eerie.

Zevran is a creature of passion. In a kinder, less pained life, he'd have taken vows to Ciren after his father died for sure. Everything in him pushes for extremes, to embrace the joys, pleasures and warmth of life and to share it with everyone he mets. But he didn't have that gentler life, so his passion has a darkness to it now. He knows rage. Burning, searing, acidic rage that eats and corrodes if leashed and explodes in terrible flares the second it finds a flaw in those chains. It was tempered by pain, by training and conditioning, but the core of him remains passion. Remains a fire that is always waiting for a chance to surge forward, for good or ill.

Both of them react instantly, both of them focus their entire beings on making Jadan feel pain. In truth, aside from minor details of ranged versus hand-to-hand combat, the only real difference in their instant assault on Jadan is that Varric is utterly silent while Zevran lets out a deathly keening scream. Jadan goes down quickly and whatever chance he had at living a little while longer (though this is in fact a mercy, given what that while would have consisted of) vanishes like smoke in a windstorm when Merrill erupts from a nearby room with a sceam of her own and flies to Hawke with an already tear-slicked hand. The analytical part of Varric's brain that pointed out they might need to question it to find out where Merrill is withdraws the proposal and instead suggests aiming for Jadan's mouth as teeth and tongues are very sensitive to pain.

Seconds later, it's dead. Varric quickly moves to clear the rest of the rooms in case something less friendly than Merrill is lurking around. Zevran tosses a clump of blood vessels and muscle aside as he turns pleading eyes on his two lovers. Merrill, her Breath of Life spell cast, instantly begins to cast another, her fears insisting that more is better.

[Marian Hawke]

For a long moment, nothing seems to happen. Hawke remains pale, still, bleeding out on the stone floor. Hope is gone from the world; there is only darkness, only the cold, pitiless world, the hard, unyielding truth: she is dead. 

Then, all at once, she takes a shuddering, pained breath. A tinge of color leaks into the deathly grey her face had become, though she's still far too pale, far too still. But her chest moves up and down, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling unseeing. There is, once more, life -- and where there is life, hope is soon to follow.

Slowly, reluctantly, awareness permeates Hawke's damaged mind. At first, there's only physical sensation: the pain in her chest, the rough bonds holding her wrists behind her, the muted pain of lying at an awkward angle atop her bound hands. The coolness of the stone beneath her, the warmth of the hands on her body, the hot tears dripping onto her skin. Sound is next: muted, muffled, but familiar enough to seem like a dream. Three voices, all familiar, all safe. How can there be safety in this room, this forsaken place, this life with Jadan? Surely it's a hallucination, a dream. She pushes it away, struggling to wake. She can't recall why, but there's something she has to do, something important. Something she has to... protect?

Vision swims into place, and Merrill's dark, soulful eyes meet her own. Merrill! With that, the lazy drift towards full awareness becomes a frantic swim, a struggle to break the surface. Something bad had happened, and Merrill was here, in danger. An overwhelming sense of purpose fills her, a single-minded clarity: she has to save Merrill. 

[Tethras Clan]

Zevran, a touch belatedly, realizes that Hawke's hands are still bound and reaches forward to free them. A few seconds of fumbling and he just rips the rope apart instead. Merrill isn't much help, too busy sobbing against Hawke's body, her living body. What little brain she has is spent casting healing spell after healing spell out of some desperate need to ensure Hawke is okay. Half the time, the spell fails, her crying causing the incantation to fail but she keeps going anyway. After a few moments, Varric finishes ensuring they're alone.

"Place is clear," he says crisply. "But it-" his voice cuts off for a few second. "Merrill..." Stepping closer, Varric reaches for the collar of the sleeping robe Merrill is wearing and pulls it down a little to reveal a thick metal band around her neck. Zevran lets out a low moan as the sight, eyes glazing a little as he tries to stay in the here and now.

[Marian Hawke]

Zevran. Hawke's struggling brain finally places one of the voices: the moan cuts through her fog, her fear forcing understanding into her tired mind. How, why, why is Zevran here? It makes no sense, and she starts to reject the information. He can't be here. That has to be a fever dream, a hallucination. Just like Jadan. He would never have done that, could never do that to her, could not be what she thinks he is. 

The ache in her chest puts the lie to her words, but she pushes it aside, not yet ready to understand, to know.

As a distraction tactic, her mind registers the other voice: Varric. Papa. Papa came to save me, to -- no. Papa came for Merrill. Merrill's the one who deserves saving. Her elation fades rapidly, eclipsed by shame and guilt. Good. Merrill will get to safety and I can... I can rest a while. Jadan is going to be furious with me. I'm going to have to...

The train of thought dies away, her mind unwilling to go down that path. Her eyes close, gently. 

[Tethras Clan]

"Hawke! Hawke!" Zevran shouts, terrified of her closing eyes.

"She's fi- passing out," Varric says quickly. She's not fine. She won't be fine for a very long time. Fuck. "We need to get out of here. Back to camp. Merril, can you walk? Merrill," he snaps as the elf ignores him to cast another healing spell.

She jumps at the tone, then stares at him blankly. "V-v-varric?" she whispers brokenly.

[GamesMaster]

Somehow, they manage to get back to camp.

Part of it is Varric. He's well suited to marshalling people in a crisis, given the way his rage and fear send him cold. It's something he has in common with his daughter: the ability to keep his head, to push through the worst and come out the other side. He's able to manage Zevran's panic, Merrill's breakdown, well enough to get people moving.

But part of it is that drive, that passion of Zevran's and that heart of Merrill's. They want Hawke to be alright, and here, in this room, she wasn't. Once Merrill deems it safe to move her, there's no resistance on either front. 

Varric carries her, and Zevran sticks close to Merrill. She can walk, it turns out; she's not hurt, or at least not physically, not anymore. They make their way back through forsaken tunnels -- the second time Varric's carried Hawke's prone form through tunnels like these, not that he lets himself dwell on that. Not right now. 

Helene confirms that Hawke will wake, and they settle into a rotation of watches to let her rest.

[c]

[Marian Hawke]

She does not dream. Likely, her body recognizes the trauma she's been through; likely, she does not wish to be aware of her surroundings enough to dream, preferring sweet oblivion to the torments of her mind. She is still in her slumber, her deprived body reaching for what it needs, taking advantage of the absence of her usual mental turmoil. She sleeps over twelve hours; Merrill can confirm her body is fine, healed, and Helene can confirm that she will wake, and so they let her sleep for now.

When her body finally relinquishes control to her mind once more, awareness comes slowly again. She is warm. She knows she is safe long before she consciously notices why: there is a tent around her, a bed beneath her, warm blankets, and Clan near her. Her fingers twitch, longing for the touch of a familiar hand, her eyes still closed. Merrill? Jadan?

[Tethras Clan]

"It's okay, you're safe," Varric's voice says gently as short, strong fingers combing through her hair. The tent is quiet otherwise. Not silent, there's the sound of soft, even breathing from the other side of Varric, but quiet. Someone asleep?

[Marian Hawke]

Papa. She relaxes a little, instinctively, the feel of his hand on her scalp -- unmistakably real -- soothes her. She tries to sink into sleep once more -- but her body, now demanding food, refuses to let her escape. 

Surrendering to the inevitable, she sits up, wincing slightly as she does. 

[Tethras Clan]

A hand stops her before she can put much effort into it. "One second," Varric murmurs, then moves to help her upright. Handing her a flask of lukewarm barley water, he cautions her, "small sips. Take your time and when you finish that, you can have something solid."

[Marian Hawke]

Hawke drinks greedily, her body longing for any nutrients it can get, her mind struggling to hold it back. You'll throw up. Slow down. She makes herself pause and take a deep breath through her nose; then, she finds a better rhythm, with a small sip followed by a breath to ensure her body has time to process each little bit. 

She lowers the flask after a moment, frowning at him. "Where?" she asks, her voice quiet, scratchy.

[Tethras Clan]

"Cave less than fifty feet from the surface," the dwarf murmurs, ignoring the part of him that informs him it's closer to sixty. Maybe sixty-five: he's out of practice but old training dies harder than old habits. "Holing up here for the night, then we'll make for a nearby town in the morning- Raplin's Oak. Lots of druids and rangers, good for healing." He pauses a moment, then adds, "Zevran and Seeker Helene are on watch."

[Marian Hawke]

The surface? Raplin's Oak?

Against her better judgement, Hawke turns her head, to view the figure sleeping nearby. Jadan. We left Jadan. No, I need him back, I-- I can't fail him, not after all he's done for me, not now. I can't leave him behind. He needs me.

A small, strangled whimper claws its way out of her throat, and she lowers her gaze. "I have to go back," she whispers. 

[Tethras Clan]

"There's nothing to go back to," Varric says after a long pause. "Not down there anyway." Behind him, Merrill lets out a soft whimper in her sleep. It seems that her body is not so strong willed as Hawke's.