Disclaimer; I don't own Dragon Age.

Fragment (Just the One)

The Deep Roads, Hawke decides, are simply not for her.

She draws a picture in the dirt, trying to ignore the rest of the expedition as they set camp, laughing and talking and arguing and generally making more noise than can possibly be healthy, given the fact they're neck deep in darkspawn territory. She had tried to help, but the guards had told her in no uncertain terms that they don't need her help, and they don't want her help, and maybe the pretty little girl should sit down so she doesn't break a nail.

Varric had distracted her with alcohol and stories before she could set fire to their trousers, and now she's too bored to care. Behind her, she can hear Anders and Fenris arguing over mages' rights; to her left, Varric is talking to Bartrand with a very low, not-quite-soothing voice.

If she had wanted to be half-drunk, bored out of her wits, and listening to grown men bicker like children, she thinks, she would have stayed home with Carver and Gamlen. As it is, she is instead doing what she does every evening, except in a tight, stuffy tunnel filled with sexist bastards and dwarves. She wonders if this is what her life will be like from here on out. Maker she hopes not.

"Hawke," Anders is saying her name now, and she glances back at him, resting her cheek against her arm. "Hawke, surely you see how much of an injustice the Circle is."

Hawke blinks, staring at him. "What injustice would that be?" she asks. Anders takes a deep breath, obviously preparing for a lecture, but she cuts him off. "The world is full of injustice, Anders. I suggest trying to champion a cause that actually needs your help."

"Mages do need help!" Anders snaps, and Hawke rolls her eyes.

"If it really bothered them," she says, "then they would escape. It's what you did, what my father did, what Karl tried to do. The only reason they're imprisoned is that they want it that way."

Anders is staring at her. Fenris is staring at her. Varric is still arguing with Bartrand, which makes the whole thing less awkward.

"You don't honestly believe that," Anders says finally. "Why would anyone want to be trapped in a prison?"

Hawke glances at Fenris. "Why do slaves bow to their masters?" she asks. "It's all they know. People like having things be the way they've always been. It's safe. It's predictable. You stay a slave because you can bear the whiplash; you stay in the Circle because you can bear the scrutiny. No one can force you to stay where you are."

Anders clenches his teeth. "You know nothing of the oppression of the templars," he snaps. "You've had it easy, living your whole life squirreled away with a family that loves you, not having to bow to the templars or the Chantry."

Hawke looks away, resumes her drawing. "Because my family loves me so very, very much," she says. "You can see it in the way they haven't forgiven me for Bethany's death, and the way they let me always be in charge, because they can't face the consequences when something goes wrong." She draws a scar across Carver's cheek where she split it open after he joined the army. "There are more ways than one to be trapped, Anders. And in my opinion, your precious Circle has it easy."