I've been toying with the idea of a character alphabet for a while now and decided to use Ria, my custom Hawke, to try one out. She's a dual-wielding rogue and sarcastic/purple Hawke, whose best friend and part-time lover was Isabela and One True Love was a friendmanced Anders. The tone of this will probably be more somber than she was in-game, since this takes place after fleeting Kirkwall with Anders. Only the things that are non-canon are mine, everything else is Bioware's, etc, etc. The updates on this will probably be sporadic, as I'm writing them out of order but only uploading them here in order. If you can't wait for the next in-order-entry, find me on AO3.

A is for Apostate

Renegade. Defector. Deserter.

Apostate.

The Chantry teaches that all mages not under the watchful eye of the Circle of Magi are dangerous, to themselves just as much as to those surrounding them. All obedient children of the Maker notify the Chantry's Templars of apostates in their presence without delay, that all may be protected from the dormant dangers of free mages.

I have never been an obedient child of the Maker.

I believe in His power, but not in His Chantry. I believe in the power of His faithful, of course; the blades of the Templars have always been a threat to at least one person I love. Initially the threat was only to my father, but one's father is always invincible, and so I never took the threat seriously when I was a very young child.

Then Bethany's power manifested, and we all felt the fear of losing our Sunshine, the light of our lives. That was when I decided I'd learn to fight. I couldn't handle a sword the way Carver eventually would, but daggers I could certainly learn. Father taught Beth to control her power, to hide it. He also taught her when to run and when to hide in plain sight. I learned from those last lessons as well, and between my daggers, Carver's sword, and Bethany's instincts, our family was safe—even after the sickness took Father's wisdom from us.

Perhaps it was foolish of us to stay in Lothering so long, both before and after Father's death. But there were fewer obedient children of the Maker in that village than one might expect, and Mother and I agreed it was best to stay as long as it was safe. That sleepy little village was the only real home any of us but mother had really known—the twins were only eight when we moved there—and we didn't want to rip them away from that. Considering half the village knew what Father and Bethany were, and yet we never saw a Templar on our stoop, it was far from the worst decision I was party to.

Years later came the Blight, and Ostagar. Carver and I fought violently over who should go with the King's army and who got to stay to watch over Beth, but eventually we were both conscripted so it didn't matter. We were both conscripted, and we both survived to escape the slaughter. Orders trickled down from Captain Varel that we were to find our families, to let them know we were alive, then to find him to make things right. Carver and I cared only about getting back to Lothering, to Bethany and Mother, and get them away from the darkspawn. You don't have to be an apostate to be a deserter.

Some things are more important than duty to a dead king.

Losing Carver as we ran from the horde damn near destroyed Mother, but he died protecting Beth—the only thing he and I ever agreed on. He died well, even if Mother couldn't understand that.

We resumed our running, with the help of the Witch (so much more than a mere apostate!) and another deserter, though Aveline's desertion was more of an accident than my own. The four of us—Bethany, Mother, Aveline, and myself—we reached Kirkwall, City of Chains. We worked a year for the elf to pay off the debt we incurred making a safe home in the city, keeping the Templars away from Beth. But once the year was gone, so was the elf's protection, so we had to find another way to gain the notoriety to remain hidden in plain sight.

That was when we met the dwarf, and he was the one who led me to Anders. Another Fereldan refugee, and another apostate.

The third such fugitive to own my heart. The third mage that I'd die for; that I would—and did—kill for. Murdered for. For him, and for the cause he represented. The cause that would simultaneously make my father proud and break his heart, were he alive to see me today.

This is the true danger of apostasy. Not mages becoming maleficarum, though that does happen for the same reasons as what I've done. No, the danger is fear; it's desperation. It's refusing to lose what we love. Father didn't mean to, but he taught me this fear when I was a child. Fear of losing him, of losing Bethany; this fear translated quite naturally into fear of losing Anders.

I gave my heart freely to this renegade, this apostate.

And I regret nothing.