CHAPTER 1

The sea was particularly choppy today.

The overwhelming stench of waste added to the constant bobbing of the ship was making Bethany nauseous. They had been on the boat from Gwaren for almost two weeks now and the allure of life at sea had worn off after an hour. It was a small cargo hold that they were sharing with refugees of various repute.

Bethany vomited into the bucket again. "Ergh, this is so embarrassing," she moaned into the bucket.

"There, there," Marian said, stroking her sister's back, "at least there can't be much left to bring up." She smiled, pulling Bethany's hair from the side of the bucket.

"Charming as ever," Bethany heaved again, "You're touching my sicky hair you know, I hope that grosses you out."

"Alas, it is not the first time I've had to handle your sick. Do you remember the night we found father's stash of fine Antivan wine? That was marvelous."

"He was so mad."

"You were only fifteen," Marian chuckled.

Bethany squeezed her sister's hand. "You're such a bad influence."

Marian refrained from mentioning it had been Carver that had found the wine first. She didn't want to upset Bethany again. The initial wave of grief had passed them and now it was only her mother still pleading for a different, impossible fate.

A few inches away, Leandra sat against the wall of the ship being comforted by Aveline. The woman had just lost her husband but she was resilient, easily the most practical woman Marian had the fortune to meet. Aveline had been in charge of the meagre rations they were dished out at the beginning of the voyage and had taken charge of designating areas of the hold for sleeping, eating, washing and other less delicate calls of nature. Marian watched her console Leandra and was pleased they had found a comrade in these uncertain times. She got the feeling Aveline would be pivotal to their survival.

Marian had mourned Carver but not as Bethany and her mother had. The difference between losing a son and a twin had paled Marian's own grief. As much as she loved her brother, they had never seen eye to eye and she felt immeasurably closer to Bethany. More than anything, Marian felt guilty after Carver's death. Her father had trusted her to look after the family once he'd gone, he'd specifically asked her to keep them safe. Marian knew it was quite an undertaking, hiding her apostate sister, reigning in her rebellious brother and handling her often volatile mother. But it hurt no less having failed.

"Okay, I think I'm done," Bethany shivered. "I guess we can add 'sea-sickness' to my list of faults."

Marian shrugged off her cape and wrapped it around her sister's shoulders. "You don't have any faults," she admonished.

"I'll say," a drunken refugee, who had kept his hand securely in his pants the entire journey, slurred. "Pretty thing like you, can't see anything wrong with that picture." One had to admire his commitment to ale. He had traded his rations for any moonshine available on board and had passed out every night, keeping the rest of the hold awake with his thunderous snoring.

As annoying as he was, he had been harmless thus far. Passing out before he could get into any real trouble. Unlike his companion, Vertron, who stayed liquored up enough to just be obnoxious. Whether it was through lack of sleep lying next to the snorer or just frustration for being on the boat for so long, recently he had become lecherous. Openly appraising Marian and her sister, asking how much it would cost to lay with them both. All the while creeping closer to where they slept. He made their skin crawl.

"Ignore them," Aveline advised watching Marian bristle with barely concealed contempt. "We'll be in Kirkwall soon."

"Ah, Kirkwall," the snorer, Akram, sighed. "The Blooming Rose," he raised his bottle for another swig. "I can't wait to get back there." He belched.

"Me neither," Vertron sneered, staring at the sisters.

Bethany leant against her sisters shoulder, closing her eyes, exhausted from her dry heaving. Marian shuffled her sister into a lying position, resting her head on her thighs and began stroking her hair.

"Sleep," Marian said. "I'll keep watch." She said, her eyes fixed on the drinking men.

A breeze ruffled her hair as she stood on the sand. She felt light. A damp tunic clung to her skin, not her usual reinforced robes. No weapons on her back. Cool hands slid down her arms. She smiled, she felt right.

She leant her head back against the shoulder of... whoever. Something tangy in the air. She inhaled the oddly familiar scent and relaxed into the body behind her. She was content.

The cool hands gripped her painfully, pinching her skin. They jerked her body away. "Hawke," a deep, urgent voice snapped.

"Ah!" Marian woke with a start. Disoriented, she shook the sleep away and became very aware of hands on her body and not the cool hands she had welcomed in her dream.

Vertron had his hands inside her robe. "Get off me!" She shot up and forced the letch backwards, kicking him hard in the face as he stumbled backwards.

Bethany screamed as she woke to find Akram palming her breasts. Marian didn't hesitate as she grabbed the man's chin, pulled his hair and tugged sharply, breaking the man's neck with a satisfying snap.

Leandra was beside herself now, in the throes of panic having witnessed her daughters being groped and then her eldest murdering a man so efficiently. Bethany was at her side pleading through her own tears that she stop sobbing. Aveline stood behind Marian looking above them, trying to discern their location.

Marian was advanced on Vertron as he scrambled backwards maintaining his sneer. He found a discarded bottle on the floor and broke the glass, shaking the jagged shards at her.

"You think that's going to stop me?" Marian snarled, only slowing at her sister's insistence.

"Please sister," she sobbed. "If he wounds you, I cannot heal you." Bethany didn't have to explain the exhaustion had dwindled her mana.

The captain of the ship flipped open the hatch and shouted at his passengers. "Rightho cargo, we're 'ere. Welcome to Kirkwall, now everyone get off my ship!" The captain called as he lowered the ladder into the hold.

Vertron hurried up the steps, his makeshift weapon trained on Marian until he was safely out of her reach. Marian growled at his retreating back.

"'E were in a hurry weren't 'e?" the captain said as Vertron leapt onto the docks and was lost in the crowd. "Oh," he added looking into the hold, "lose one along the way did we?" he said pointing at Akram's lifeless body.

"He drank himself to death," Aveline said. "We will dump the body in the sea."

"Whatever you say, darlin'. As long as he's off my ship."

Aveline hoisted the body onto her shoulder and gestured for them to go ahead. "After you," she said as the Hawke's stepped out into Kirkwall. Aveline slipped the body into the water as discreetly as she could. Refugees swarmed the area, a red headed boy weaving between them pickpocketing their coin mercilessly. A templar held a mage to the floor by the scruff of his neck as another templar broke his staff in half. Desperate men were screaming at overworked guards.

Marian placed her hand on Leandra's arm, "Welcome home, Mother."