A Name to Grow Into
Rose dangled a feather above Bethany's face. She still had round baby cheeks and a full pouting mouth. People cooed over her everywhere they stopped. Rose's chin and cheeks were finer, sharper like their father's and at odds with the same full lips. "We have the same eyes though, baby Beth. And we smile. Carver still scowls like he's going to be sick. Gramma says I have sea eyes though because they change. Maybe yours will too someday and we can match."
"Let her sleep, Celene." Her mother's voice was sharp. They had spent the night on the road, the children sleeping in the wagon while Malcolm and her traded off driving and watching for anyone following them.
"That's not my name." Rose tucked the feather into the pocket of her dress, an old cast off sweater of her father's that hung down over her legging clad knees but warm for Fereldens crisp fall days. "I don't even like that name."
Leandra sighed, kneading bread for dinner. "It's a strong name, a name of an empress. You'll grow into it."
"My name is Rose."
"You certainly have the thorns of one." The little girl froze staring at her mother. "Never let me hold you, even when you were little. Always your papae's girl." She slammed the bowl down on the stump and stared at her. "You're not pretty enough for that name, Celene. Bethany is the pretty one. Pick a name that won't leave people expecting more than you can give. Give it up with your stories and grow up into someone I can be proud of at least."
Rose turned and ran, stumbling through her tears and smacking into Freckles. She sobbed silently on the ground, tears soaking into the grass until the old horse, long grey in his withers and nose, nuzzled her hair. She pulled herself to her feet with her fingers tangled in his mane. She stared into his soul filled eyes and stroked his head. "Someone will be proud of what I can give one day, Freckles." She sniffed. "One day I will make people so happy she will just choke on her stupid pride. But it will be my name, not hers." He snorted in agreement.
Malcolm found her hours later, tear stains dry and red on her cheeks and snoring softly beside Freckles. He petted the old gelding. "Taking good care of my little bird?" He swished his tail as he reached down to shake her shoulder. "Rose?"
She rubbed her eyes. "Papae." She sat up, hair in a wild halo around her with a scattering of grass tucked into the curls.
"You look like a forest child in one of your stories, sweetheart." He smiled.
Her face fell and she wrapped her arms around her knees. "Mamae said I need to give up my stories." She sniffed loudly. "And said I need to go by Celene because I have thorns and I'm ugly." She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. "Why does she hate me and love the babies?"
He dropped down beside her and pulled her into his lap in a tight hug. "My little hawk, I'm sorry." He sang her favorite song and then told her favorite stories until the tears stopped. "What would you like to do?"
She wiped at her eyes. "When I'm big?" He nodded. "I want to sing, like you. But I don't want to be hungry all the time. And I want to go to Kirkwall and take away the chains so we can live there like a family again so mamae can be happy." She stared at him. "That's why we can't go back right? The chains are in the way? And mamae is sad because she misses her family." She nodded to herself before smiling. "And I want to fly like I do in my stories."
"My sweet, clever girl. You could do it." He looked thoughtful a moment. "Hawke, so when you fly people know what to call you. A name you can grow into."
She grinned. "A name that'll they'll know what to expect."