Despite Varric's word, she'd been doubting the appearance of Hawke for some time. After all, Cassandra could do just about anything and if she couldn't find the supposed Champion of Kirkwall, then where was he and could he even be found? Not too mention from the stories she'd heard of him, who knew what this Hawke was really capable of. After all, if she believed all the stories, he'd taken down legends single-handedly and yet one mage had collapsed all of Kirkwall down around their shoulders. Shouldn't he have known?
She'd heard the rumors from Ostwick and had thanked her lucky stars and sweet Andraste that the Maker seemed to be shitting on Kirkwall specifically, leaving the rest of the Free Marches alone. Of course that particular joke had come down around her ears now, as she flexed her hand and felt the flare of Andraste's mark. Well, of her mark. The mark. Whatever. Who knew what Andraste really had to do with it, if anything.
From the top of the battlements, she watched the inner workings of Skyhold work on what she knew was Josephine's good judgement, Cullen's honor and Cassandra's faith. What impact she'd had on his place was minimal at best and at worst… well, that'd been what got them to the top of this wretched mountain in the middle of nowhere in the first place. She sighed, ready to ask Varric for the fourteenth time if Hawke was really coming when she saw him.
So that was Garrett Hawke. Huh.
For some reason she'd expected something… different. Bigger or smaller or just different
. He just looked like some guy who'd wandered up to Skyhold on accident. She couldn't help looking over to Varric for confirmation, lifting a brow in question. He made introductions and Honor nodded, following his gaze to the mark on her hand.
"Not you, obviously. But I've got to wake up to it every morning,
" she said sourly. It was supposed to be a joke, but she heard the bite in her voice and decided she didn't so much mind how it came off. If she sounded bitter about being here… well she was.
" she corrected. He didn’t sound happy to be here, or answer her questions, and she wondered exactly how much pleading Varric had actually done to get him here. And what it might cost her in the future.
She wanted to say something more; now was usually the time she took to tell people she didn't want to be called 'Your Worship' or 'Lady Trevelyan' or even 'Inquisitor' if she didn't have to be. But it didn't seem quite right now. So she shook his hand, fiercely, and then crossed her arms over her chest. All this time she'd had to plan, she'd been so sure he wouldn't actually get here that now she wasn't sure how to wrap up all the thoughts she had into another sentence.
And then, he apologized.
It was like a dam in her burst. She clenched her fist, hand aching, mark flaring. "Well, good. I hope you can figure it out because I sure as hell can't seem to. And maybe if you'd been there when Cassandra came looking for you, well…
" She held up her marked hand and gestured frustratedly. Maybe we wouldn't be here
. "Fuck. Who knows