Aveline, struggled each day to rise from her bed, to walk to her office and to put on a brave face for her guardsmen who, these days, were more a makeshift group of laborers and babysitters, than they were guards. She let most of the guard opt for leathers instead of the guard plate- sending them into Hightown to dig and search and move rubble from one part of town to another. There were days even she, guilt heavy on her shoulders, joined the others with a shovel in her hand to clear the roads and search for survivors.
She didn t blame Hawke for leaving, she understood why he would want to go. But, that didn t curb her anger, nor make the longing for her friends- her family any less. There were even days she thought to follow after them. She planned how it might go- waking up in the pre-dawn hours, gathering her things and heading east out of town. Maybe towards Ostwick, or beyond- to Antiva or Rivain. But, she knew no one in those places, not as she knew Kirkwall. Somehow, in the years here, Kirkwall had wormed it s way into her Ferelden heart in a way she d never expected it to. Her duty now, was to the city and its people.
Sadness and long days did not stop Aveline from her regular visits to the Hanged Man. Sometimes, she went alone, expecting no one- and sat alone with the memories of her friends at the table with her. Varric and Isabela s rooms were empty- or rented out to new customers. Sometimes she went with her guardsmen while they unwound from a long day. Once- twice- four times, she went to Rose in the hopes Carver was still in town, that Isabela or Merrill or even Gamlen (on her worst and most homesick days) might be there. A Ferelden accent, the Amell crest, the growl of a Mabari- these things she missed, less easy to find them now, amid the remnants of Kirkwall.
She did not pray, but nightly she went- as did a great number of people- to Hightown, lighting a candle for those that had fallen both mage and templar and citizen alike. Surely in death, they were equal in the Maker s eyes. For the first time since she was a little girl, she prayed to the Maker. She prayed for each of her friends, wherever they were, that the Maker might keep them safe.
Sebastian had returned to Starkhaven and whether or not he would bring an army when he returned- if he returned, was yet to be seen. But, every night, even with the knowledge that they were gone, Aveline looked for Sebastian or for the Grand Cleric, among those that grieved for the fallen chantry, and the Sisters and citizens it had contained.
On the longest nights, the ones where that day played over and over in her mind so she couldn t sleep at all - much like Ostagar had years before - she cut through the Hightown gardens to Fenris estate, looking for a spare bottle of Aggregio or a grumpy elf, a fair game of Diamondback. His place too, was empty; unless the nearly decade old corpses or the vermin that fed on them in his absence, counted as inhabitants.
Even Bethany, who had once been safely ensconced in the Gallows, was gone, having followed Hawke far from Kirkwall. Wherever that was.
Aveline was alone in the city, with her grief and her doubt and a stubborn urge to put it all back together. To pick up the pieces of a city that she had once never thought to call home.
