Alanna Hawke.
She was named after one of the greatest women legends of all time: Alanna the Lioness, wife of the King of Thieves, Champion of King Jonathan. And she felt everything but worthy of that name. She hated herself for feeling so weak and useless when her namesake climbed mountains and braved the twisting seas, battled ferocious monsters and dared to fall in love, twice. And here she was, daughter of a dead woman, sitting alone in the mansion she bought with the gold and treasure she found when she braved the Deep Roads, risking her sister's safety. Demanding, hovering over Bethany's body, demanding Anders to save her, to help her, to do something, anything, just save her.
And when Bethany left for the Grey Wardens she remembered her cousin, Morwen Amell, and that just brought more tears. Her cousin was even braver than she was: sacrificing herself to save her love, King Alistair; killing the archdemon and ending the Blight. But Hawke still stayed in Kirkwall. She was a legend here, hiding behind the image Varric built for her, taking her frustrations out on rogues in the street and dragons in the caves, saving Isabela and helping Fenris track down his old master, killing those that had wronged Sebastian's family. Focusing on everything but herself.
But here, in the darkness of her mansion, alone in the library, she had no one else to focus on. Her past, her loneliness, her uselessness, it all came rushing back at her. Sometimes she would cry herself to sleep. Other times she would stay awake for hours, staring into the flames of the fireplace, letting the heat cleans her thoughts as she meditated, drifting slowly towards the Fade but never venturing into it. The days after that were long and hard and she wanted nothing more than to disappear under the covers and sleep and dream and wish the world away. But that's not how life works.
Alanna Hawke, ashamed of herself, stood over Anders and watched him breathe, watched the rise and fall of his shoulders and chest as he waited, always waiting, for her to make the final decision. To let him live. To kill him. Sebastian swore to return with armies if the mage survived, and the idea of the battle made Hawke's blood boil to life. She turned on him, baring her teeth in a snarl, and told the orphaned prince to do his worst. And then she told Anders to run, but he was already gone, snatching up the opportunity and fleeing into the darkness. She met Varric's eyes, silently asking her friend to help. What do you need, he had asked.
"A story," she sighed. "One where we run away, the lot of us, and travel the lands, never having to worry about these blighted Templars or mages again. Tell me we'll make it, Varric. Tell me we disappear over the horizon, legends and myths, never to be found."
"They'll search for us," he said with a smile. "But we'll always be three steps ahead. They'll never find us. Tell me, Hawke, is the forest life for you?"
"I have nothing here for me," she said, looking to them all, watching as Sebastian's storm off paused. "Not without you lot. My mother is dead, Bethany is gone. You're my family now."
The prince turned his head to the side, peering at her through the corner of his eye. Her golden brown orbs filled with tears she was too stubborn to release and he knew she was telling the truth. She would run and they would follow, always following. Hawke was a good leader, and a great friend. But she allowed the mage to live, he reminded himself, and stalked away. She watched him go, her eyes boring holes into the back of his head, and he wanted to turn and embrace her one last time, say goodbye, but he never did. She watched him walk away, knowing that one day they would meet again, different people on different sides of the battle. Through the rush of adrenaline at the thought of a promised fight, guilt and pain broke through, calming her boiling blood. And for once, she thought with a clear head.
Fenris joined her against the Templars, crushing her to his chest in case they didn't make it out alive. His lips were soft against hers, a chaste kiss, an apology for all those years ago. She choked back the tears and greeted his weary eyes with a stubborn grin. She embraced her friends, one by one, whispering apologies and promises in their ears. Sorry for dragging them into this, sorry for putting them through her life. Promising they would all make it out alive. Sorry for lying, for predicting a future she couldn't see.
And when it was over she disappeared into the mountains, climbing to the top as her namesake had, braving the cold and the creatures. She never asked them to follow, but they did anyway. Aveline and Donnic, Varric and Merrill, Fenris, Isabela; they stayed with her, proud of her, loving her. She felt as if she didn't deserve it. Every time Isabela offered her a smile she cringed on the inside. Every time Varric shared a story, she wept. Every time Aveline clapped her on the shoulder, Fenris stared at her with those wide eyes, Merrill brought her flowers, she died. She didn't deserve them.
She had killed Templars and mages alike, slain the Arishok, sent her sister off with the Grey Wardens. She didn't save her mother in time, she didn't save those in the Chantry in time. She was supposed to be the Champion of Kirkwall, and she couldn't even save the blasted Chantry.
"It's not your fault," Fenris told her, sitting opposite the fire. They were supposed to be on watch, but no one ventured this high up the mountains. "The abomination had his own agenda to tend to. You were saving the city while he destroyed it behind your back. You did right. He did not."
"If I had paid more attention," she started, sniffling and wiping at wet eyes. "He had started to pull away. I should have – "
He sat beside her and placed an awkward hand on her knee. A flash of red caught her attention and she smiled faintly, fingering the cloth around his wrist. "You couldn't have known," he told her softly. "It's not your fault, so stop thinking it is."
She smiled at him, soft and warm. "What would I do without you, Fenris?"
Sebastian found them when they landed in Ferelden. Isabela had found a ship and they had sailed across the sea, just the seven of them, lost at sea with nothing around them but water and sea life. Isabela had told Hawke that when she was younger she dreamed of becoming a mermaid. "I grew up to be a pirate," she sighed.
"The next best thing," Hawke promised her and Isabela kissed her cheek with a laugh.
They were stepping off the dock when soldiers bearing the crest of Starkhaven stopped them. Their prince, their leader, stepped from their midst and for a moment Hawke saw a flash of the old Sebastian: swept back hair, piercing blue eyes, a small smile as he noticed each and every scrape she bore, silently chuckling at her need to rush head first into battle. But then he was the new Sebastian and his eyes were cold as they swept over her group. She could see the pain in the midst of those blue crystals and she knew, without a doubt, that he would much rather be travelling with them. He missed them, and they missed him.
"Sebastian," she started, stepping forward. One of his guards rested the tip of his sword against the hollow of her throat and she glared at him, her golden brown eyes flashing dangerously in a way that was all too familiar to the prince. He rested a hand on the shoulder of his guard, silently telling him to lower his weapon. Hawke rubbed her throat as if he might have nicked the skin after all, but found no evidence.
"Alanna," her friend greeted hesitantly. "I heard word of your arrival."
"You think I know where he is."
He blinked, momentarily blindsided. "You were the last to see him."
"So were you. We've been travelling, Seb." She ignored his wince at the nickname. "Been on a ship the past few months."
"I see," he said quietly, tilting his head to look around her. His eyes hesitated on the group, almost smiling back when some of them offered their grins, before moving on to the ship. "I trust it's legal."
"Bought it with the findings from the Deep Roads," she assured him. Isabela smirked, no doubt chuckling over a pirate legally owning a ship. "The Pearl is in Isabela's name. It's all legitimate. We couldn't risk exposing ourselves with something as foolish as stealing a ship, no matter how tempting the idea was."
"Exposing yourself?" Sebastian asked, turning to face her. He had wandered forward while eyeing the ship and almost stumbled back a step when he found himself mere inches away from her. "You're in hiding? From what?"
"I don't know where he is, Seb," she said instead, looking him in the eye. He almost looked away, almost. Until he remembered that he was the prince here, that he was the one leading the manhunt against a murderer. She saw the shift in his demeanor and dropped her gaze respectfully. "I have no reason to protect him anymore. I would tell you if I knew where he was."
"Would you now? You saved him before."
"I owed him a debt."
Sebastian scoffed. "What could that murderer possibly have done to help you?"
"He saved Bethany's life."
He'd forgotten about that, she could tell. She watched him through her eyelashes, watching as his demeanor changed yet again. He wanted to comfort her, to share prayer as they had once done, to fall into the familiar habit of being led instead of leading. "You could come with us," she said.
He smirked. "You seem to think I'm letting you go."
She grinned. "I know you are, Seb. You know I'm telling the truth and even thought that pisses you right off, you're not the kind of selfish man that would hold us prisoner simply because you didn't get your way."
"You know me too well."
"Not enough, if you ask me."
He groaned and passed a hand through his hair, casting his gaze to his boots as he fought back a blush. "Teasing as always, I see, eh Hawke? When are you going to learn that nothing good comes from pushing a man to his limits?"
"What could you possibly mean?" She asked innocently, and pointedly ignored Isabela's snort. Alanna Hawke sobered and peered up at him, almost pleading. "So you'll come with us then? We've missed you, Sebastian."
He wanted to. Oh did he want to. She could see it in the way he gazed at the ship with longing in his eyes, the way his gaze hovered over his former companions and friends, the way he shifted. But he wouldn't. She knew it from the way he looked at her last, the way his eyes darted over every inch of her face as if memorizing it. You don't need to remember what a friend looks like if you're going to be spending the rest of your days with them, only if you're saying goodbye. For good. She sighed and bowed her head, and she couldn't tell if she was disappointed or angry. Or if she was just sad that she'd have to keep missing him.
He hooked a finger under her chin and raised her head. His eyes sparkled in the way they did when they played the Counting Game (How many do you have, Hawke? Only fourteen thugs? Varric's beating you again.) Unreserved, playful, dangerous. She was going to miss that too. "I can't go," he said, feeling as if he owed her an explanation. "I've got a kingdom to run and venturing with pirates and champions is no place for a prince. I want to…but I can't. I'm sorry, Hawke."
She embraced him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her cheek against his breastplate. "No need to apologize, Sebastian," she whispered, squeezing him tighter. "I could never stay mad at you for very long." She kissed his cheek, watching his flush spread, and grinned. "Stay safe, Your Highness. I'll be checking in to make sure everyone knows you've got my protection."
He smirked and hugged her again. "No one would be stupid enough to try to assassinate me then," he told her. "Maybe just kidnap."
"I'll kick their ass."
"I know you will. Goodbye, Hawke."
"Goodbye, Sebastian."