My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Memory

  "Pst."

  He didn't look up, so she tried again.

  "Pst. Pstitty pst pst." Still nothing. Maker, was he deaf?

  Myra picked up a rock, stone, tiny bit of gravel really, and pulled her arm back to chuck it when he finally turned away from whatever he was enraptured with. Amber eyes lit upon her face as she tried to smoothly drop the rock behind her.

  "Myra," Gavin called, a bright smile taking over his usually stern face. "What brings you here?" She was perched upon one of the retaining walls while he was down by the squire pit sitting with his back turned.

  "Heard it was your day off," she sort of explained. It didn't take long to learn that Daryan was always 'incapacitated' on Wednesdays. Leaping off of the wall, Myra stepped closer to spot a book in his lap. She couldn't stop the smile at how adorable it was. He'd been so caught up in some adventure he didn't hear her sneak up behind him. "Which one's that?"

  "Oh," Gavin's umber cheeks lit up red as he shamefully tugged up the cover. 'This Shit's Weird: The Lavellan Story' The infamous book about the Inquisition he was never allowed to read by order of his parents who were kinda involved in it.

  Myra's face puckered up in shock and she shouted, "Ooo." Dashing down beside him, she plopped right into the grass and tried to spot the page he left off on. There was usually a bookmark or a tear put in place. She was so busy attempting to deduce a simple question she could just ask, it wasn't until she felt something brush against her knee that she looked to her right and straight on into vast amber fields.

  "Uh, um," heat burned in her gut at how Myra practically sat on top of Gavin. Oh Maker, no, not on top. Just...not that. That had implications of, nope. Not that. "I thought you weren't supposed to read that one," she gasped out, her fingers grabbing onto her braid and rummaging helplessly over it.

  "I'm not, but..." his eyes dipped down and then a cheeky grin rose, "it's not as if my parents are here to stop me."

  "Why aren't you just full of surprises. Assuming you are the real Gavin," she tipped down, her eyes pretending to scan his face for any falsehoods. "Got any incriminating moles or birthmarks to prove your identity?"

  "Uh," he blinked madly, his hand skirting over his shirt, "the one on my stomach, but..." Gavin moved a moment as if he was about to show it to her, but Myra panicked and grabbed onto his warm hand.

  "It's okay. You don't have to show me. I was just foolin' around."

  He smiled and stuck out his chin, "I know."

  "Right, right, ol' Myra's easy to, uh, so...did you find any dirt on your parents in there?" She jabbed at the book in order to try and change the topic to anything. Andraste's girdle, why are you sitting so close to him? Because moving would seem rude now.

  Gavin turned the book around and he sighed, "Not particularly. My father comes off as boorish and as fun as a rash, but I rather think he'd be proud of that description."

  That caused Myra to laugh. "What about your mom?"

  "She's not in it much. It mostly follows the Inquisitor so, I don't know, I suppose she didn't run in his circle often. I wondered if, perhaps, there was mention of their early relationship."

  "The dwarf didn't seem fond of all that kissing stuff. Lots of stabbing though, and visceral blood and guts. He really likes eyeballs popping," Myra nodded, her fingers skirting over the cover. In doing so, they bumped against Gavin's as if it was all on accident. It was all on accident. Don't be stupid, brain. Stupider.

  "I know he knew about them," Gavin said, and Myra blinked like mad at that deduction. "My aunt Hawke, she...I don't know, it's like they're brother and sister without being related. She'd tell me about him."

  "Your aunt knows the author of all these books?" Myra gasped. "Wow! Like, not just knows but is good friends with...wait? Hawke? As in Champion of Kirkwall Hawke? Maker's sake, is there anyone in your family who isn't impressive enough to warrant an epic ballad?"

  "Says the girl with a father that's king," Gavin added back.

  "Yeah, but my aunt's never done anything awe inspiring like stopped a Qunari invasion. All she does is send me annotated chants of the light every birthday."

  "Hawke sends more visceral gifts."

  Myra's jaw dropped and she spun to him, "Like an arishock's skull or something?"

  "More daggers, bows, swords. Once a mage staff because she...they all thought I might be," Gavin's voice dropped low and he waved his non-mage hands around, "you know. I didn't find any mention of my father and mother in the book save one reference." He changed tactics so fast, Myra's head spun a moment.

  Gavin cracked open the page to reveal a portion where the Inquisitor was getting into it with the Hero over some political thing. Myra didn't read books for the politics, she preferred all the eye gouging. There at the bottom was a mention of the Commander siding with the Hero's position and, for a brief moment, their eyes met across the war table.

  "That's it?" Myra asked, flipping the page to see if they started making out in full view of the war council or not.

  "That'd be it. A single glance in the middle of a war, somehow that led to..." Gavin paused and slapped the book shut. "Sorry, I doubt you came to hear me talk about literature."

  "No," Myra shook her head, "though it was fun to trade books with you before. I swear, I don't think there was a damn thing I'd read that you hadn't already."

  He blushed anew, his head hanging down. "I imagine that's changed."

  "Yeah," all her reading now was either about corpses or spells. Or those dirty books her mother would probably ground her for and no doubt Gavin would combust on the spot if he opened. Bryn was great at supplying them, then Myra would slip on a false cover and none's the wiser. "Oh, I'm being stupid. I thought with you having the day off I might make good on my promise to show you the city."

  He cracked a smile and nodded, "I'd like that."

  "Right," Myra reached into her pocket and yanked out a square sheet of folded paper. Carefully unfurling it, she eventually revealed a map of Denerim. "This here's the city..." at Gavin's eyes falling, she jabbed him in the side and chuckled, "I'm kidding. Come on, grab your good walking shoes. This will take awhile."

  Denerim, capital city of Ferelden. Birthplace of Andraste herself. Home to lights, excitement in the streets, uh, her dad's palace and a few fancier estates. They began there, Myra jabbing a finger as they passed each one and trying to recite the various Arls and Banns by name. It was sad how much of that crap she remembered not due to Rosie or even her dad's grumblings, but her mother.

  You never know who could be playing the game of shiv in the night.

  Right mom, 'cause the guard's so gonna let an elf investigate a Bann caught in the middle of a murder mystery.

  Gavin bobbed his head at her descriptions, often gazing upward at the various architecture things. He asked a few questions about their foundation which Myra only shrugged at. The buildings were old, so probably solid. The way Auntie Lunet spoke, they were all built on the bones of elves so she preferred not poking around in any nob's basements.

  "And there's the stables," Myra gestured towards a paddock stuffed with horses and the various fertilizers they created, "though I bet you could smell them first."

  At that Gavin laughed. "I grew up on the farm. It's almost homey to smell it again. The palace is oddly sterile."

  "That's just cause you haven't been around when the summer sun hits the latrine hole. Ugh," Myra shuddered. Way to be smooth there, halfy-half. Keep talking about poop, that's the way to win a boy over.

  "So..." she stretched her hand out, suddenly hoping a fascinating statue or water feature would pop out of the ground and rescue her. "Food?" her brain threw out the only thing it could to rescue her.

  Again, that far too damn handsome head nodded. When he was all tight lipped and stern she wanted to run away, or slap him, or something. But then that smile would pop out, like the most awkward sun slipping out of the clouds and Myra's anxiety faded. She wished he'd sm
ile all the time, the other version was too stressful.

  "Here," Myra spotted a stand across the road. Without thinking, she grabbed onto Gavin's hand and tugged him into the street. A few carriages of the gilded variety were rattling past, no one caring much who they ran over. She slowed up for a bit to let one pass, causing Gavin to press close to her back.

  It was so unexpected, he gripped onto her shoulder a moment to keep from plowing her over. Sweaty horses, the sun glistening off their tan hair, clopped by. An eye glared down from the driver at the girl who froze just before she got run over, then the carriage went past. No doubt one of the Banns who lived in the frilly houses was inside. Imagine the shock he'd get if he was told he nearly ran over the King's daughter.

  As the back of the wheel rolled on past, Myra took off. She kept a tight tether to Gavin, dragging him fast across the street before the second carriage behind picked up speed. The nobs were always racing down it, trying to see who could get to their castles in the sky the fastest. It was often causing roadblocks when inevitably they'd get jammed together at a turn and tip over. The worst involved two Banns, an Arl, and a bronto drawn wagon carrying heads of cabbage.

  While the imposing carriage whipped on past behind them, Myra pulled Gavin to a safe spot in front of the "On a Stick" food cart. Myra turned to find him staring at a sign that only announced the name of the place and a man without a right arm operating it.

  "What, what do they have here?" Gavin stuttered, those amber eyes narrowed in concentration.

  "Whatever you want, but on a stick," Myra proclaimed. She moved to extend her hands to the wide possibilities but realized she still held his fingers knotted around hers. There ya go again, getting all informal. Pretending to have to scratch her head, Myra dropped his hand.

  Gavin didn't seem to notice her subterfuge as his mind was consumed with the possibilities. "Anything? Anything I could dream of?"

  "But on a stick."

  "So if I say asked for stew...?" Gavin turned to the man operating the stand.

  He smiled and then winked before hauling out a bowl of stew. Myra clapped her hands in anticipation of what was coming. Waving his hand over the bowl, ice rolled over the once lukewarm bowl until it froze solid. The vendor barely cut off the magic before he grabbed one of the kebob sticks and jammed it straight into the stew bowl. Lifting the concoction out, a half globe of pureed meats and beans emerged in ice form. He handed the offering over the Gavin who accepted it with a look of concern.

  "Five coppers," the vendor said, slapping his one hand into his leg.

  "Oh..." Gavin fumbled for his pockets while trying to balance his top heavy meal.

  "I've got it," Myra interceded, pulling out ten coppers and laying them across the tiny wooden counter. "Give me your special."

  "No problem, miss," the vendor smiled wide. He didn't have to work his literal magic as he yanked out a pre-made kebob filled with various fruits and vegetables. It was a guess as to what half of them were as they'd all been cubed before being impaled together.

  Myra bit down on the first red cube to find it was a strawberry. Juice squirted down her chin and she raced to catch it while waving to the vendor her thanks. Strolling while nibbling off the first in her long line of lunch, she cast an eye to Gavin. "You better eat that fast before it melts."

  "I..." he nodded and gently drew his white teeth against the iced stew. A sliver plopped into his mouth which he was quick to swallow. "This is..."

  "Magical?" Myra laughed before moving onto the next cube -- squash. One of the green ones.

  "I was going to say strange. Are there," Gavin's tone dropped down, "are there a lot of mages operating like him?"

  "No, he's more or less cornered the market on freezing things and shoving sticks through them," Myra smiled, before pausing, "unless you include the army."

  "I've never seen one so...brash."

  Myra glanced down at her fingers. She coulda done the same as that guy. Okay, her ability to flash freeze things wasn't as good, but she could certainly set something on fire if a person asked. But she had to keep it quiet, for her mom's sake. And because people were already twitchy enough about her dad being King. Add in her having magical abilities and...

  "He's not so bad. Comes up with wacky stuff all the time. Fought in the war."

  Gavin blinked a moment, his teeth gnawing apart a frozen carrot. "Which war?"

  "Inquisition one, I think, not the blight. I guess maybe the rebellions too. He never talks about that one. Not to inquisitive girls who should know their place, at least," Myra tried to laugh it off but it bugged her. No one wanted to talk about the damn mage rebellion to her, and she was a mage. She should know about this stuff. About the circles, and templars, and other things in the past. But no, it was all too much for someone so young or other such nonsense.

  Her internal whining faded as she glanced over to find Gavin with his lips fully wrapped around a stew popsicle. He was trying to gum it to death, using his warm mouth to melt it into edible bites. About to laugh at the picture, Myra's chortle froze when his tongue lapped in a circle to help break off the ice. It was stupid, she knew they'd kissed before -- a lot, in fact -- but when she stared at this man Gavin turned into even Myra didn't buy it. Maybe she'd just suffered a serious head injury on the fame and imagined it all. Fell off a horse and dreamed she made out with the cute farmhand boy. That'd be her kind of luck, really.

  First romantic interest in her life and it was all blood pooling in her brain. Yay.

  Trying to hide behind the blush and thud in her gut, Myra gnawed upon her kebob barely making note of the various cubes. It used to be a fun game, but it felt childish and stupid. Everything she did was one or the other.

  In the end, Gavin managed to eat about half of the stew before the summer heat and time caused it to plop to the ground. He sifted the mess about with his toe almost sadly, before abandoning it to the dogs roaming the street. Myra had to admit she was impressed, "Most people only last a few bites before giving up and throwing it all away."

  "It wasn't that bad in the end. Weird, but..." his voice faded as he glanced to the right.

  Myra stopped nudging the sloppy cold stew with her shoe to see where they were. Garden district, a bit of a hike from the palace if you didn't know what you were doing. One of the fancier markets on the left and...Oh yeah. She forgot.

  "Is that it?" Gavin whispered, a finger pointing towards a small building, a shrine really. It boasted a domed ceiling with pillars standing on the outside for decoration. That wasn't what really mattered, but what was inside.

  "Yeah," Myra nodded. She hadn't thought much of it, one of hundreds of buildings in Denerim, until her parents sent her out to the abbey. "That's the memorial."

  Like a moth drawn to musty attics, Gavin stepped in awe towards the memorial. The doors were thrown open, no doubt to let a breeze through, but no one was bustling inside. So many years out and there weren't all that many people who cared.

  "Have you been inside?" he asked, his voice dropping into a whispered hush.

  "Uh," Myra felt off, as if she shouldn't be here. "Yeah, a couple, a lot of times. Dad, he..." They wouldn't come every day, but they did when the King would visit. On her birthday. He'd bring his children as well, each of them getting to lay a flower on the would-be grave of the Hero of Ferelden. Vanquisher of the Blight, Savior of the World. The hero who fell in battle once again fighting to save the world from an evil that would rip it to shreds. And also the woman who taught Myra how to throw magic without accidentally setting her eyebrows on fire. Gavin's mother.

  "Your parents, they never..." Myra said, trailing after as he slowly eased up the steps. She used to run up and down these things chasing after Cailan, but now it felt as if she was walking over a grave.

  Gavin shook his head slowly, "Mum, she didn't think it wise to be seen anywhere near it and father. I don't think he liked the reminder." Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Gavin had to duck to enter into the memorial of the
ir fallen Hero.

  Her eyes went black as Myra switched from the white of the sun bleached streets into the cool memorial. Blinking a few times to get it back, Myra honed in on the actual black onyx in the room. At seven feet tall, the statue of the woman towered above the children who would usually dwarf her. It was strange to look into a younger face than the one Myra met. This version was stern as she extended out her staff to take on the entire blight all by her lonesome. Someone carved various darkspawn at the pillar, all being crushed by the mighty weight of her...robes. But Gavin was focused fully upon her face.

  "I haven't had to look up at her in..." he paused and shook his head, "I can't even remember."

  "There was talk for awhile that they wanted to build a statue of Dad, but he flat out refused. Said their only hope was if they they made it out of cheese and let everyone take a bite. Most assumed that meant he was being silly, but I bet he was weighing the possibilities of it working." Myra's blather faded as she watched Gavin lost in the chiseled face of the woman who birthed and raised him.

  His thick eyelashes fluttered as he reached outward. Even at his great stature, he couldn't quite reach his mother's face. He had to settle for running a finger across her sleeves and shoulder. "I feel as if she's about to scold me for misplacing her vials. It..."

  Myra cupped her fingers over his shoulder, trying to be as friendly as possible. "Gavin?"

  That heartwarming smile lifted upon one side of his face and he shrugged, "I think I understand why father never wanted to come here. It's mother, but...not my mother." He broke from the face to inspect the dates. The birth was right, but the death...well, that one had quite a bit of wiggle room now. The way their father explained it, as far as anyone knew Solona Amell died in the fade. She sacrificed herself to save the Inquisitor, but something happened. Dad was surprisingly vague on the details.

  Glowing red bottle, stuffy templar, travel travel travel, save the day. Auntie Lanny was back alive. Hooray. Except for two years she wasn't. She was dead as dead could be and it hurt. Myra may not be an expert at reading people, but she knew when her father was playing to hide his pain, and he never played here. This was the only place he let it all out as if she...she was special, kinda like how Myra's mother was to him.