He sat there, staring down at his knees as he mumbled about how if she wanted to kill him, he wouldn't fight back. He believed what he had just done was justice. Murdering the Grand Cleric as well as countless other innocents, destroying the Chantry, sending the city into an uproar… To him, it was justice. And with his death he believed his name would become a battle cry in some kind of mage revolution.
"You call this justice?" Hawke whispered hoarsely, the hopelessness of her tone plain as day, "Is that what you think you've done?" His mouth moved as if to speak but she cried out to cut him off, "No! No, don't say anything more. I- You're a murderer. How can you sit there and think that murdering all those innocent people was just? The Anders I knew-" and thought I loved "-was about healing. Salvation. Not… not cold-blooded murder. You-" her voice hitched as she said it, but she refused to cry, "-need to pay for your crimes, Anders."
She drew a knife from her belt and vaguely remembered that the last time she had used this knife had been on her mother's murderer. This thought passed as she took a step forward, leaning down just enough to press the knife into his back. But as he tensed, his eyes falling shut and his mouth pressing into a tight line, Hawke realized that she couldn't do it. She pulled the knife away from him. Stood straight. Dropped it. The knife clattered to the ground with a string of sweet, bell-like sounds. He looked up as if to question her, but he said nothing. She turned away from those honey-brown eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze.
"If I never see you again, it will be too soon."
xxx
Marlene Hawke jolted up in bed, her chest pulsing with heavy breaths and her hair matted from restless sleep. The thin sheets were tangled with her limbs and slightly damp from sweat. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Single bed with another single bed across from hers, though that one was empty. Wooden walls, floor and ceiling, as was customary with ships, these days. There was also an armoire by the door, which was used more as a storage closet than anything else.
She heaved a sigh, her heartbeat having slowed to its usual pace, and fell back against the pillow, closing her eyes but knowing full-well that she wouldn't be able to sleep again. "Is it too much to ask for a decent night's sleep?" she murmured to herself, but knew no answer would come.
Sighing, she dragged herself out of bed, shivering as the chill hit her, and picked up her discarded shirt from the floor, sliding it over her head before she went to the armoire and dug a pair of pants out of the bottom, nearly toppling over a box of healing herbs while she was at it. After shimmying into the pants and half-tucking in the shirt, she pushed her door open and entered the hallway, immediately starting for the deck.
"Hawke!" Isabela said, cheerier than Hawke had ever seen her in Kirkwall, "You're just in time! We were just about to punish this dolt for mutiny!" Hawke rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. Fenris was standing off to the side a bit of a way, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the railing of the ship, but bearing a similar half-amused expression.
"You would be excited about a mutiny." Hawke said with an eyeroll and Isabela laughed.
This was her life now. After Kirkwall she had had nowhere else to go. Isabela had said, 'Wait. Why are we running when we can be sailing?' and Hawke had answered, 'Good question. Let's go.' And naturally everyone else came along. Eventually the group started wandering off, one by one, until it was just them three and a crew of twelve apparently mutinous men.
"Oh, no. No. None of those ominous, broody, stuck-in-the-past expressions! I'll have none of that on my ship." Isabela said, and after a pause she added, "Besides, the brooding is Fenris's job." Hawke laughed at that, nodding, but that didn't stop the thoughts. They would be in Starkhaven soon, and it was the first time they will have been in the Free Marches in the last year and a half. Hawke wasn't sure if this excited her or worried her.
After all, the Free Marches had been her home for a decade… but it didn't always house the fondest of memories. And besides, with Prince Sebastian Vael ruling over Starkhaven, she wasn't sure how she could possibly be safe there. After all, he had threatened her. He had told her he would rise to his rightful place as Starkhaven Royalty and send his armies out to find and apprehend both the man she had refused to kill as well as herself.
I guess we'll see what happens. Her thoughts told her, and she had no choice but to accept these words as truth.
xxx
Starkhaven, despite being in the same country as Kirkwall, was an entirely different world. Whre Kirkwall had been closed in and dirty, filled with rusty pikes and crumbling clay stairwells, Starkhaven was all country and beauty and cool breezes. Endless grassy hills with apple trees scattered and sheep being herded through them. Small cities with quaint, comfortable communities. Friendly people that were always smiling and laughing and offering you something 'for the pretty lady' or the 'handsome lad'.
They had "docked" (as in not actually docked to avoid fees but were still stopped) in a smaller city about a day from the capital and they had already passed three towns on their way there. Hawke and Fenris had split the cost of a carriage since Isabela was too cheap to offer the gold, but it wasn't as if they minded too much. It wasn't as if they were spending much gold in the middle of the ocean, anyway.
"This is cute." Isabela said and Hawke nodded her agreement.
"I think it says a lot about Sebastian, actually." she answered and Isabela laughed, lopping an arm around Fenris's shoulder before mimicking the movement with her other harm on Hawke.
"It does, doesn't it? It explains how he was so… nice." she decided finally, and she seemed happy with the description.
"Nice? Of all the words to chose, you go with nice?" Fenris questioned and Isabela shrugged.
"He was nice." Isabela countered.
As they continued to bicker like a married couple, Hawke wriggled out of Isabela's hold and leaned forward to where the man driving the carriage sat. "Do you have any news?" Hawke asked, "We're new to Starkhaven."
The driver smiled warmly, "But of course!" he said, "Anything particular you want to know about?"
"Oh, anything." Hawke said, "I'm just curious."
"Well, then, I'm sure you know about young Prince Sebastian coming home. The people were a little worried about it, seeing that he used to be a little… wild, I guess is the word. But he's proved himself to be quite the capable leader. No one's worried anymore. And he's put a lot of effort into working with the Chantry, it seems. Personally, I'm not much for religion myself, but my wife was happy about it so I can't complain too much. And… let's see… No doubt you heard about the rebellion in Kirkwall, yes? Prince Sebastian has been seeking out the one who started that mess. People have been saying he found the man, too. Anders something or other. They've got him locked up in the palace dungeons, apparently, waiting for a trial… Oh! Oh a happier note, there's a festival…"
Hawke couldn't stomach another word. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she wasn't sure whose it was.
Anders had been captured. He was awaiting trial. He'll be killed!
"There's nothing you can do, Hawke." Fenris said and Hawke shook her head.
"Call me Marlene, while we're here." Hawke whispered back, hesitating before she added, "And I know."
But she didn't know. She didn't know anything. All she knew was that Anders was going to die. She wasn't even sure how she even felt about him dying. She hadn't seen him in a year! More than a year, even. And yet… she'd be lying if she said she didn't still care about him. After all, you don't know someone for a decade, love them for half of that time, and then forget about them the instant they're out of your life.
I'll never forget Anders…
She clenched her teeth at that thought, wishing she'd never asked for news at all.
xxx
Hawke was not surprised when she had found herself scaling the palace walls. She had been wondering all day if she should do something to rescue Anders, her thoughts bouncing between 'he lied' and 'he deserves punishment', 'he killed people' and 'so have I'. Eventually she must have come to the conclusion that just because she was saving him didn't mean she wasn't still mad.
The palace was small as far as royal castles went, but that didn't mean the dungeons would be easy to find. She suspected that they would be below ground, but at the same time, she had heard of people holding their prisoners in towers and such so she knew she couldn't depend on that. Still, though. She started low.
The bottom floor of the palace was silent as the grave, but there were guards. At least a dozen of them were placed around the throne room, and Hawke wondered how many guards were there when the Prince was actually in attendance. A rogue such as herself found it a simple enough task to get past the guards to the door beside the throne, slipping through the shadows with experienced stealth.
It must have been an hour before she found a stairwell that pointed down, and she followed its descent until she found herself in a wine cellar. She groaned inwardly, glancing around. She was tempted to nick a bottle of the Tevinter stuff Fenris and her used to get plastered with, but she decided it would end up being too much of a pain were she to stumble into trouble. And she suspected she would.
Sighing, she turned to go, only for the sound of footsteps to force her into the black of shadows once more. She was silent as she watched two guards enter the cellar from the very same staircase she had come from, crossing the cellar and disappearing behind one of the tall wooden shelves of wine bottles. She waited and listened as their footsteps stopped. She heard a scraping noise, as if someone were sliding a statue over the floor, and then she heard it again and there was silence. "Because that's not suspicious…" Hawke murmured, following the path they'd taken around the wine. Sure enough, the guards were gone.
And there weren't any statues.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered what had just happened. A hidden door? But where would they hide it…?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the wall moving and she squeaked, running off to the side of the wine shelf, watching with obvious interest as one of the guards stepped through what was now a doorway-sized hole in the wall. It shut behind him as if of its own accord. Magic? Hawke wondered as the guard marched off for the stairs. Quickly, she darted out from her hiding place, hands tracing where the door had been but was no longer. Instead, it was just a part of the wall- grey, stone bricks lined up one on top of the other.
The grout was in place, there was no space between bricks where there should have been. Definitely magic.
"Hey! You! You're not supposed to be here!" a voice made Hawke start, and she turned to see an elf dressed in servant's clothes. She pulled a glass ball from her pocket, tossing it so that it shattered by the elf's feet, and then held her breath as a foul-smelling gas was emitted into the air. The elf coughed, and then collapsed. After a moment, Hawke felt it was safe to breathe, and she dragged the elf into the shadows. She didn't want to hurt anyone, if possible. After all, she was the one breaking the laws, here- not them. They didn't deserve to die for that.
"Alright, door. Time to open." Hawke muttered to herself, pulling a dagger from her back and digging it into the grout. Turned out to be harder than it had appeared to be in her head, as the grout wouldn't come out. "Or not." She wiped her blade off on her pantleg and replaced it on her back.
She continued to stare at the wall for a moment longer and then sighed. I could try knocking. her mind jested, and the longer she stood there, the more appealing that idea seemed. "I'm going to regret this…" she muttered, before raising her hand and knocking once. Twice.
The stone of the wall slid in, and she yanked a glass ball out of her pocket, smashing it on the floor just as it opened. The guard that had open the door sputtered something unintelligible, coughing, and then collapsed at her feet. Some of the glass crunched into the side of his helmet, and Hawke winced, thanking the Maker that he was actually wearing one. She pulled the guard inside what was now very obviously a dungeon, and turned to the door, only to find that it was already closed.
"Weird." she said simply.
"Hawke?" the voice that reached her ears was familiar, and not unwelcome, but it stiffened her muscles and chilled her bones nevertheless.
"Anders." Hawke said, spinning on her heel to find Anders rising to stand in one of the many cells behind her. He was in the only occupied cell.
"What are you doing here?" he asked and Hawke shook her head.
"You're an idiot." she told him, squatting in front of his cell's lock and sticking her lockpick into the keyhole.
"You're… breaking me out?" Anders asked, the surprise in his voice not hard to recognize.
"I see you've mastered the obvious while we've been apart." Hawke murmured dryly, smirking at the tell-tale click of the lock coming open.
"But why?"
Hawke sighed, wishing she actually knew that answer for herself. Instead she said, "Come on. Let's get out of here before more guards come." Anders nodded slowly, following her out of the cell, but they both stopped at the stone wall. "You don't happen to know how to open this, do you?"
"You could try knocking." Anders said wryly and Hawke laughed.
"You mean try knocking again?" she asked with no small amount of sarcasm, but she did so anyway. And sure enough, the door opened. "Well what d'ya know…" she muttered, entering the cellar and leading the way to the stairs. From here on, she knew it would be more difficult. Where she was good for stealth, Anders was not. He was trained to heal and light things on fire, not hide in the shadows and muffle his footsteps.
"How do you intend to get me out of here, exactly?" Anders asked and Hawke shrugged.
"I'll figure it out as we go."
"Well… how did you get in?"
"I scaled a wall. You any good at climbing?"
"Not really."
"Then I'll figure it out as we go."
He was silent as he followed her up the stairs, and he was careful to follow her into the darker places of the rooms that she crouched in. After they had been standing around for a little more than a minute, Hawke winced when he spoke. "You still haven't told me why you're doing this."
Hawke sighed. "Remember when The Arishok wanted to take Isabela and Aveline said that if anyone was going to kick Isabela's ass, it was going to be her?" she asked, and Anders was silent for a moment.
"I see." he said slowly, and Hawke nodded, not wanting to read into the suspicion of his tone.
"Less talking, more following." Hawke told him.
xxx
The night air was blessedly cool on their faces, about a mile outside of the city, but Hawke would have settled for scorching hot and in a tavern if it meant they were out of the palace. Which they were. She stretched her arms out, yawning.
"Thank you." Anders said quietly, and she turned.
"No." Hawke snapped, "Don't thank me. I didn't do this for you."
"Oh, that's right. You did it so that you could be the one to kill me. No offense, Hawke, but that's a little weak. Even for you." Anders said, and Hawke narrowed her eyes, grinding her teeth.
"You have no right to act superior here, Anders." she growled, "If I lied to you about why I saved you, it's none of your damn business. Just be grateful that I decided to this time because I'm not doing it again." Anders actually looked like she'd slapped him, looking down at his feet in the dejected sort of way that reminded her of a kicked puppy.
"You're right." he said, "I'm sorry."
"It's…" she was about to say 'fine', but she knew it wasn't. "Well, it's something, isn't it."
"It's something." Anders agreed.
"How did they catch you?" she asked suddenly, realizing that she didn't know.
"They caught me in Ferelden. I was trying to get to Tevinter, but… Sebastian's army caught me first." Anders said. He hesitated before continuing, "Hawke, I- for what it's worth, I never meant to hurt you."
"Well you did." Hawke snapped, "Intentions don't make up for actions."
"I know." Anders answered, "I just needed to tell you."
Hawke managed a stiff nod. "I'm leaving now. Isabela and Fenris will have noticed my absence by now and I shouldn't worry them. Keep your head down and maybe you can get to Tevinter alive." She turned to go, but felt his hand on her arm. Warm and gentle, these hands used to hold her and make her feel safe at night. But now… she wasn't sure what they made her feel.
"Marlene, wait-" Anders said, and he seemed surprised when she turned to face him. He even seemed caught off-guard. Was her expression that grave? "I love you."
She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking down at her feet. She felt sick. Did she love him? Yes. But that didn't change anything, and she knew it. "I feel the same way I did when you blew up the Chantry." Hawke whispered, "Nothing has changed."
"Is it so wrong for me to hope we can try?"
Yes!
"It's not wrong for you to hope, but we can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough to be with you, anymore…" she shook her head, pulling her arm away.
"But you love me back?" Anders asked quietly and she nodded that she did. And I always will, damn you! Just go away! Leave me alone! "Stay with me, Hawke. Please. I don't need you to forgive me, but I can't bear to live a life without you."
"You just lived without me for a year. You'll be fine." Hawke snapped.
"Hawke… stay with me. Please." Anders pleaded and she looked at him helplessly.
"I want to say yes. But I… How can I be with you after what you did?" she whispered. All these miserable night she had spent thinking about the things she had done, the nightmares she had had about the people who had died because of what he did. The mages and templars alike which had fallen at the hand of her own twin blades… Would it all be better if she was laying in bed next to the cause of it all? At least you'd have someone to hold you. You wouldn't be alone. her thoughts told her, but she shook them off.
"Just give me a chance! I'll do everything I can to make it up to you." Anders said and Hawke watched him for a long moment.
"And what of Vengeance?" she hissed, "What does he say of all this?"
"Justice… isn't speaking. He is satisfied with the decision you made at the final battle." Anders said quietly, almost as if he were ashamed of this.
"My sister was a mage. And my father." Hawke told him curtly, "If there was even a chance that there was a mage there half as good as they were, I wasn't going to let them die."
"I thought as much." Anders whispered.
"I do love you." Hawke said suddenly, "And I want to say yes."
"Then say it, and you can take it back at any time."
"You make this sound simple."
"I know. I know it isn't, but… Hawke, give me a chance to make things right between us."
She watched him for a long moment, just as he watched her. It was strange to think she could watch him so intently and never meet that gaze of his. But then, slowly, her eyes met his. And she smiled a small, sad smile.
"Ok."