Rose of Ferelden

The messenger had found them near Amaranthine. Eleanor, Gramma to the Hawke children, was ready to pass on to the Maker and she wanted them there. "Why are we going through the forests again? The highway is safer, Malcolm." Leandra complained.

He sighed, impatiently bouncing the reins in his hands. There was no more speed to be had out of old Freckles, now blind in one eye. "Because this way is faster by four days. We have nothing worth stealing, darling."

The twins stared wide eyed at the forest around them from behind their mother and she cursed realizing the third child was not on the low bench. "Where is your sister?"

A giggle came from above them. "Up here, mamae." She was perched on top of the wagon's wooden roof.

"Get down this instant!" Hawke quirked an eyebrow and settled in more comfortably just out of reach unless Leandra stood. "Rose! Malcolm, make your daughter listen."

He glanced up at her, noting the sling in her hand and the bag of stones on her belt. Her sea eyes stormed across the forest around them in endless circles and he smiled. "She's fine, Leandra. Our little Hawke is hunting."

She fumed, her sharp gaze slicing between husband and daughter. "That would be fine if she was a boy. But you should stop encouraging her. And her name is Rose."

The girl rolled her eyes and let a stone fly, downing a rabbit along the path. She slithered down the wagon's side and dropped neatly to the ground. "It's Hawke. And no boy could do that."

"Want me to wait, clever girl?"

"No, papae, I'll catch up."

The two minutes were up and then some when Leandra turned on him again. "She's nine. Stop the horse."

"There's nothing that will hurt her, Leandra. It'll take her two minutes to catch up. We do this all the time." He clucked to Freckles, who was more interested in what his tiny mistress was doing but he obligingly continued.

"What if there were bandits?" Her voice rose to a shriek.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, a mirror to Hawke's earlier motion. "She wouldn't have risked getting off the wagon and leaving us vulnerable. Give your daughter some credit, Lea. She's a smart girl and will do great things, she does great things now and you just don't see them."

She settled on the bench. "She's unnatural and not the least bit a lady. I have some hope for Bethany at least, even with her magic showing so early."

Hawke leaned out over the roof, the wide grin at odds with the empty blue eyes. "I'm back."

Leandra jumped. "How? You didn't make any noise!"

She shrugged. "Rabbit's in the pot already and I hung the skin on the shutter." She turned to Malcolm. "There was a campfire not far from the road, it's been used within the last week. It didn't look like bandits. Dalish maybe, there was a lot of poop and thin wheel tracks. No statue, so not a permanent camp if it was."

He nodded. "We will travel carefully then. We won't disturb them unless we have to. The Dalish have enough trouble without us bumbling around into their halla pen."

She crouched on the roof, swaying with the motion and her face wistful. "I want to pet a halla. They look soft." She grinned. "That would be good for my next story, Papae, The hawk girl and her halla."

He laughed. "The twins will like that."

"Halla are dirty." Leandra sniffed. "And you should focus on talents that will bring you money, Rose. Look what storytelling and songs has gotten your father."

The girl's eyes harden to a steely glint. "Maybe that's because he has to sing and tell tales in Ferelden instead of the Free Marshes or Orlais where they appreciate art. The dog lords only love stories about their most prized bitches. You should love them, mother." She stood and walked to the back of the wagon, dropping off the end as her parents stared in shock. Malcolm handed off the reins and called after her.

She ignored him, running into the forest as fast her legs would take her and wiping away the tears slower than they were falling. Her breathing came in shuddering gasps, fighting her control to keep it calm and silent. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she froze. "Da'len? Are you lost?"

She looked up. Bright vallaslin over a sun darkened face, pointed ears and close cropped sides with the hair so long on top it broke her sadness as she tried to figure out how he braided it. "Ir abelas, Messere. I." Her voice faltered. "I wandered off from my family. We were traveling the forest road. I didn't mean to disturb you."

He chuckled. "You did not. You are lucky I had already brought down the bear."

She eyed the carcass behind him. "You got it with one shot?" He nodded and she whistled. "You have all the luck, messere."

"What's your name, da'len?"

"Rose Hawke, my papae is Malcolm Hawke. We are headed to Lothering." She stared at the forest around them, making a slow circle. "I've lost the road."

"I'll take you."

She held up her hand, imperious for her height. "What about your bear? Your clan will need it. Meat can go bad quickly in the summer. I can follow my tracks back, I think." He eyed her with approval before making a bird call. She watched quietly as others melted from the forest and stood behind him. Hawke grinned and waved. "I want to be able to do that someday. I pretend I'm a leaf some times to practice."

One of the others laughed as they talked quietly amongst themselves. They started into the bear and he led her back the direction she came. "Come, show me how you would follow your tracks."

With quiet patience and guidance, he let her pick her way back to the road. Every word that left him, she listened to with apt attention, her questions ever respectful and far above her age. When she found the road, she turned back to thank him and he was gone. Her face fell but she straightened her shoulders and headed towards Lothering. It didn't take long to catch up with the family's wagon, the red shuttered windows open to the breeze. She could hear her parents hysterical arguing. She sighed with a backwards glance to the forest. There was the elf who helped her to the road and she waved. "Ma serannas." She called softly. He bowed his head and faded into the forest.

She strode into the firelight. "Papae!"

"Rose!" Malcolm picked her up and twirled her around. "Where have you been? Are you hurt?"

He set her down and she toed the dirt, staring sheepishly at the ground. "I'm fine." She looked up at him, mouth twisted in a half frown. "Sorry I made you worry."

"Worry?" Leandra exploded making the girl flinch. "After what you said, you're lucky you are welcome back here at all. We should leave you in Lothering."

Malcolm placed his hands on Leandra's shoulders. "Lea, be reasonable. You are hard on her."

Her blue eyes glinted harshly. "Reasonable?! All her talents are good for is the Game and I left that life behind. We can't even go to Orlais because you're an apostate. She won't amount to anything unless she changes. You let her get away with everything."

Hawke's voice trembled. "Mamae, you're going to wake the babies." She froze midword and then stormed away from them both, locking herself in the wagon with the twins. Hawke stared after her mournfully before sitting on a stump by the fire. "Any supper left?"

Malcolm pulled some bread from his pocket. "Sorry, bird. I tried to get you some stew back."

She chewed it thoughtfully. "Stew doesn't go well in a pocket."

Gramma died the morning they arrived in Lothering. Hawke felt a tightness in her chest staring down at the old woman. She had always had a kind word for her or a new book for her to read. She had time for her stories. The adults were fighting, over the contents of the house and the house itself. Her skin felt itchy and hot so she went outside. Gramma Eleanor had the best roses in Ferelden, maybe all of Thedas. She ran her fingers over the blooms, not fearing the thorns. One of the other children came outside, an older boy and a bully, blood kin to Eleanor from one of her numerous marriages.

"Look at you, the little princess from Kirkwall." She ignored him, it was an old taunt but better suited for her mother. Kirkwall was a distant shore she dreamed but not for her noble heritage. No, it was a land of plenty, where she would never be hungry, if she could only cross the sea. He shoved her. "Mouse, I was talking to you."

"Go hump a nug." She balled her fists as she faced.

He laughed. "What? You'll make me?" He stepped closer to her. "With Gramma gone there's no one to protect you lot in Lothering. You're not welcome, not you or your ugly mother or that apostate bastard that fathered you."

Hawke snarled. "Go away."

He laughed. "How about a little deal? You're not too young for a kiss."

Fear gripped her, icy panic shot down her spine as she shoved out with her hands with everything that she had. Her mind was screaming and there was a burst of something within her. A crackle and a roar and she was swept away with it. She closed her eyes letting it carry her, like the time she fell in the river. She opened her eyes only when the screams became louder than the current.

Fire surrounded her. The boy was in front of her on the ground, a pile of ash and smoke. Bile rose in her throat, was there demons nearby? She looked around, the whole garden was in flames and the house. Her heart fell, the house was a raging inferno. She turned and ran deeper into the garden, choking on the acrid taste that billowed into her lungs. She curled up beneath the largest rose bush and closed her eyes.

It felt like hours before she heard her father calling her name. "I'm here!"

He grabbed her hand, casting ice walls between them and the fire as they ran, and pulled her out of the burning garden. He dropped to his knees before her, soot smudged across his fast and eyes wild. "Hawke, where did that fire come from? Quickly, sweetheart."

Her eyes were wide with shock and her mouth opened and closed several times before her voice worked in a soft squeak. "Me. I think it came from me."

Eleanor's adult children came over, demanding answers. Malcolm stood, wrapping an arm around her. "I didn't see anyone else in the garden. I barely found her. Could the boy have been a mage?" There was some quiet speculation between several of them and sack of gold was shoved into Malcolm's hands to keep quiet on the matter.

The next morning, Malcolm took Hawke out to talk by the creek. She told him the whole story, her rage and then her panic. He nodded at the end. "Two magical daughters, a lucky father I am then."

Hawke shook her head. "I don't want magic."

He took her hands. "Sweetheart, it's just a tool. I'll show you how to use it safely and it'll be fine."

She stared at him. "No, Papae. I don't want this life. I want to take care of Beth. I want to have adventures and live in cities and meet new people. I don't want magic. I don't have magic. It's just a story." She got up. "I will never tell a story again. No stories. No magic."

Grasping at a chance, Malcolm cringed at his words. "What about the twins? They love your stories."

She stared at him glumly. "I'll just sing them songs." She walked back to the wagon without another word as he followed behind her.