Hawke dropped to her knees, half burying her daggers in the hot sand. She sat there, her hands still on the hilts of her blades, her head bowed. For a little while, she fought the scorching feeling in her throat and the pain in her chest, only to succumb to it a moment later, big tears disappearing almost instantly into the barren soil beneath.

"Hawke! By all the Paragons' naked behinds, I've been chasing you for hours, in this damned heat." Varric said, stubby fingers spread wide on his knees, as he was struggling to regain his breath. "The Tal Vashoth… did you find him?" he asked, his head tilted, his eyes trying to find hers. "Did you kill him?" he continued, at the sight of her bloodied weapons.

"I did" she said in a weary voice. "He's dead and I'm at my wits' end."

"Hawke… The Blooming Rose. Tonight. On me." he offered, a smile trying to cover the sadness in his eyes, as he knew her pain.

"No. Not until I kill them all. I shall not rest until…" a knot in her throat made her stop and she felt her eyes blurring with tears again.

"Until there is no one else here who reminds you of him?" Varric drove the proverbial dagger home. "Hawke, it's high time you forget about that horned bastard. Or was his manhood THAT big?" he gestured, in a desperate attempt to make his friend smile. It pained him to see her so distraught.

"Varric!" her voice shrilled, hurting her already parched throat. "He never touched me. There was nothing between us, other than respect for each other… for a worthy opponent, no more." she repeated what she had told him countless times, every time Varric, driven by the despair in her eyes, brought up the only person in Thedas she did not want to hear about: the Arishok.

She didn't lie. The Qunari leader's most tender words to her were "I do not hope you die". Not very romantic, by any stretch of the imagination. Somehow, though, his respect was worth more to her than the love of all the men in Kirkwall. "You alone are Basalit-an." his words rang in her ears as clearly as they did the first time, so vivid that she instinctively turned her head. She knew she'll see nothing. Just the coast and the infinite sea, upon which her memory painted the sight of the Qunari ships leaving Kirkwall and a sharp pain stung her chest, again.

"Look" he winked, handing her a flask full of water, "we've been friends for a long while now." He stopped for a second, gathering his thoughts, trying to chose between funny and considerate. He was Varric. He could do both. He hoped. "The moment that damned Qunari left the docks, something shifted in you. Now, I'll give you this: you were never as charming as yours truly. But it's becoming ridiculous. It's downright depressing. You must've caught whatever Anders and Fenris were spreading around. Seriously, Hawke, no man is worth that much brooding over."

Hawke stood up, her hands still clenched on her blades, her fingers white. She looked at Varric, her eyes filled with sadness, regret and anger. She walked towards him and, as she passed him, her hip bumped painfully into his arm, but he was numb, not quite past the hurt her eyes had inflicted on him. "Hawke, wait up!" he cried, suddenly brought back to reality by the duty he felt towards her, as her closest friend, to do something to yank her from the invisible claws of the Qunari warlord that gripped her heart, as sharp and as excruciatingly painful as they would have been if that particular imagery would happen in real life. No. Even more.

"I saw Hawke today" Varric said, slamming Bianca on the table and then taking a brief moment to gently run his fingers on his beloved crossbow, like he was asking for forgiveness. "She's hopeless!" he grunted angrily, looking at Fenris.

The elf shifted in his chair and tilted his head, releasing a sigh. "The Arishok story again, I assume." he almost whispered, before drinking down the last remnants of his wine bottle. "Did she ever actually TELL you all this is about him? Maybe her lifestyle is taking its toll. Not unfathomable, you know. All the fighting, the enemies, the betrayals…" Fenris got up and started pacing.

"Were you not there when the Qunari left? The look in Hawke's eyes, I swear, scared me shitless. She was not herself ever since." Varric shook his head, yanking the bottle from the table and replacing it with a displeased look when he realized it was empty.

"She's a madwoman if she ever thought… No, she couldn't have. That doesn't sound like Hawke. I doubt she'd ever be crazy enough to think the Arishok could set his sights on her. A human." the elf snorted, a smirk adorning his face. "No, Varric. Her brother died, her sister was taken to the Circle, and then her mother died, then…" Fenris started to neatly string, in chronological order, the disasters that wounded Hawke over the years.

"Then the Qunari left" the dwarf interrupted. And suddenly she wasn't just hurt anymore. She wasn't just mourning. She was lost." said Varric, his head dropping to his chest.

"This isn't one of your stories, Varric. Hawke is a strong woman. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll have a talk with her. It doesn't hurt to have a fresh pair of eyes looking at this… Arishok problem." Fenris dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

"Hawke, I'm glad you came." smiled the elf, his arm so loosely around her waist, he wasn't actually touching her. Perfect gentleman.

"What is this about, Fenris?" Hawke said and let the elf catch a glimpse of her tired looking eyes.

"Hawke, I…"Venhedis! This is insane!", he thought. "I heard you haven't been feeling well lately." he lied.

"I'm in perfect shape. See?" She turned around, and then turned again to face him, a forced smile betrayed by the sadness in her gaze. "I've been hunting these Tal Vashoth that still remained on the coast…"

"Hawke." Fenris stopped her. "Varric seems to think that you… Struggle with some sort of feelings you might have for the Arishok."

She froze for a second and then she busted out laughing. "Struggle is an illusion, Fenris."

"Fasta vass!", Fenris thought. "The dwarf was right. Pity." He would've hated to see his friend, a woman many men desired - some for her beauty, some for her strength, some for her wealth alone, falling prey to this thing that could never be. Maybe she likes torment. People that were hurt irreparably, sometimes… But no. No matter the devastating bunch of steaming crap life threw at her, Hawke was always strong. Never utterly destroyed. Except now. He saw it in her eyes. "So… You are not actually harboring some sort of infatuation with the Qunari, do you?" he pried.

"Oh, Fenris. I…" as she stopped, Fenris ceased his pacing and looked straight into her glossy eyes.

"Hawke, no…"

She hated what she saw. Pity. She couldn't take that from anyone, let alone her friend. She stood up and left without a word.