A/N: Some of this chapter's dialogue (but as little as I could get away with) is lovingly stolen from the game. That - and the story and characters of Dragon Age - belongs to Bioware. I'm just playing with it.

I hope you enjoy the chapter!-333

Chapter Four

9:34 Dragon

Kirkwall, Hawke Estate

Exhausted, Hawke trudged in the door. She had hoped to get some rest - maybe she could harass Bodahn or Orana into giving her a midnight snack? - but, alas, as was always true in her life, something had to happen to screw it up.

"You and your selfish whims! I'm trying to keep the city from ripping itself apart!" Hawke heard Aveline's voice call from the foyer.

"Get off your high horse!" Isabela's voice returned, "I have problems too."

"Ha!" Aveline barked a short, humorless laugh, "'What drink should I have?' and 'Who's the father?'"

"Oh, you little -"

"What is it NOW, you two?" Hawke called, unable to contain her anger as she burst into the living room.

"Hawke, the Arishok is harboring two elven fugitives. I need your help to convince him to hand them over," Aveline stated reasonably.

"I'M going to DIE!" Isabela histrionically exclaimed.

Hawke and Aveline looked at her, puzzled.

"Got your attention?" Isabela asked.

"One at a time, please, and slowly," Hawke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was going to be oodles of fun, she imagined. "Aveline, what's the situation with the Arishok?"

"Two murderers have... 'converted' to the Qun. They're seeking refuge in the Qunari compound," Aveline said, obviously trying not to allow her Chantry upbringing to hurt her opinion of Qunari, and almost succeeding.

"You don't think their conversion is genuine?" Hawke asked.

"It's conveniently timed," Aveline said. "And even if it is genuine, they must follow the law. I won't have Kirkwall descend into chaos. If they're allowed to get away with it..."

"You're worried this will set a precedent? Commit a crime and get away with it by religious conversion?"

Aveline simply nodded.

"That makes sense," Hawke allowed, "but why do you need my help when you've got the law on your side?"

"I'm not expecting this to go well," Aveline admitted, "and I'd rather have someone the Arishok respected with me in case I'm right."

"I think I understand." Hawke said.

Of course she understood. It was always the same. People asked her to risk her life for them, and she did it willingly, but even her friends had listened to the portrait Varric painted of her as the stalwart heroine, and woe betide anyone who thought of her as a living, breathing, hurting human being. They never really gave her an opportunity to back out. Not now, not ever.

Sighing, she turned to Isabela. "Now, what's this about you dying?"

"Remember the relic? The one Castillon is going to kill me over?" she asked. When Hawke nodded, Isabela continued. "I found it. A man called Wall-Eyed Sam has it, and there's going to be an exchange happening tonight in a Lowtown foundry."

"You're certain this is your relic?"

"I've been keeping an ear out," Isabela said, smiling slightly. "Varric's not the only one with contacts, you know."

"So, you've found it, and you want my help in getting it back, I take it," Hawke stated simply, walking over to her desk. She poured herself a glass of reddish wine from a bottle that she had started keeping there.

Isabela nodded. "I'm not letting it slip out of my hands again."

"I'm trying to keep the city together -" Aveline interrupted, her face and hair clashing shades of red.

"Well..." Isabela began, "maybe it's connected."

"What?" Aveline said, dumbfounded.

"It's valuable to someone, right? Maybe it will help," Isabela said, evading any real questions about what the relic was, who wanted it, or any other specifics.

"NOW you start being responsible?" Aveline muttered. "Shit."

"One last question: how likely is this to turn sour?" Hawke asked.

"Considering that we're the ones turning it sour?" Isabela snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Point taken."

Hawke paused for a moment. Tensions between the Qunari and the rest of the city were high, even with Ser Varnell and Sister Petrice out of the way. The damage had long since been done. If they were ever going to get Isabela's relic, it would have to be before they went to the meeting with the Arishok.

Just in case, Hawke mused darkly, taking a long swig of wine. Half her life was spent "just in case".

She took a deep breath and another swig of wine before saying, "We'll handle the relic issue first."

"You trust her this much?" Aveline asked.

"Probably not," Isabela quipped. "I wouldn't."

"If I might put us back on track," Hawke said, clearing her throat, "when is the exchange happening?"

"Around midnight," Isabela answered.

"That gives us two hours to prepare..." Hawke said, narrowing her eyes in concentration. "Isabela, can you run to Lowtown and get Varric? I hate to bother him this time of night, but we'll need him and Bianca."

Isabela nodded with a look that was almost a grimace. Hawke knew she didn't much like the new, less fun woman Hawke had become lately. Everyone else gave Hawke a wide berth, blaming her mother's death for her personality change, but Isabela saw through that. The loss of her mother hadn't helped, certainly, but the change had been a long time coming.

Hawke wondered how much Isabela knew or suspected about the real reasons. Did she suspect how overwhelmed Hawke was feeling? Did she know about everything that had happened with Fenris? Hawke couldn't decide if she cared if Isabela did know all of it. On the one hand, Isabela was a dear friend and Hawke was very fond of her. On the other hand, nothing Hawke did seemed to make any difference anyway, so what did it matter if people approved of her or not?

"Aveline, we'll head to the Qunari first thing in the morning. That's the best I can do."

Aveline nodded, putting her professional Captain face on.

"Good. I need to ask a small favor," Hawke said, plastering a smile on her face, "I know it'll be tough, but can you come along to the relic thing tonight? I'd like to have someone to get hit so I don't have to."

"I can't, Hawke," Aveline shook her head. "I'll have to change around the entire patrol schedule for tomorrow. And I'll have to make sure the guards' equipment is ready for a fight, just in case things go as badly as I'm hoping they don't."

"Damn," Hawke muttered, taking another swig of wine. "That means I'll have to be the meat shield tonight, and I rather like all my meat where it is."

"You... couldn't you just bring Fen–?" Aveline asked.

"No," Hawke cut her off right as she finished speaking.

"Why not? He could –"

"Not. An. Option." Hawke said in the tone that brooked no arguments, "We'll bring Varric and Anders. Hopefully between the three of us roguish types and Anders' healing, we can wreck anything that comes our way before it hurts us too much."

There was an awkward pause that Hawke absolutely hated. Her friends weren't stupid. They had eyes. They had to have noticed that one day, she and Fenris had been practically inseparable, and the next they were continents away. She knew that they had seen – and now they were going to bring it up.

"You've been avoiding Fenris lately," Aveline began tactfully.

"No," Hawke replied, trying to be flippant, "I've just been deliberately leaving him out of missions, not asking after his whereabouts, and I haven't seen him in a week or two."

"Hawke..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Aveline. I really, really don't."

"But the two of you were quite... close," Aveline asked, "weren't you?"

"Oh, they were close, I'll bet," Isabela purred.

Hawke blushed a shade of red that would have matched the favor she'd given Fenris. She hoped that neither of her friends noticed.

"Maker, you actually WERE, weren't you?" Isabela gasped. "You're blushing!"

None of her hopes ever came to pass, it seemed.

"I am not," Hawke responded, getting a bit testy. "It's a rare skin condition. I get random sunburns. At night. Indoors."

"Sweeting," Isabela began, "there's no shame in having a one-night stand. Especially –"

"There is if that isn't what you'd wanted it to be," Hawke said, her voice thousands of miles away.

Andraste's flaming ass, why did they have to bring it up? She hadn't been able to tear her eyes away as he'd left, asking her for forgiveness even as he was causing the pain he wanted forgiven. His face and voice haunted her everywhere she went, though she was actively trying to avoid thinking or talking about it.

It hurt more than a stab wound to the chest. And she knew from experience.

No one spoke for a few minutes. Hawke was hoping that the others would simply leave. She needed to prepare for another mad mission to help some friend do something that Hawke didn't really understand. She took another long pull of wine.

It took her a moment to notice that both of her friends were looking at her expectantly, and with no small amounts of sympathy and, in Aveline's case, irritation.

"It's late and we're short on time," Hawke said, falling back on professionalism. "Isabela, go warn Varric – I'll get Anders – and we'll meet you at the Hanged Man in an hour."

And with that, Isabela turned and left. Hawke felt like a lamb being put in the same cage as a slightly irritated tiger – not as bad as being left with a fully angry one, but still troublesome all the same. She hadn't realized that Aveline disapproved of Hawke's non-relationship with Fenris. Not that it mattered now, anyway.

"I don't want to talk about it, Aveline," Hawke said. "It happened, it's over, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Well, whatever happened, it's apparently worth your life." Aveline snapped.

"...What?"

"You can't go through with this – whatever it is – without someone in front of you who could take a hit. A few punches to the face and you're down like a sack of kittens, Hawke!"

Maker's balls, Aveline didn't disapprove of Hawke and Fenris sleeping together, not necessarily. This was about Hawke's safety in a fight without a front-line fighter.

Hawke felt different, like she had been wandering in a howling wilderness alone for Maker knew how long, when, suddenly, she had found a small, temporary shelter from the wind. She was barely listening to Aveline's tirade about her foolishness in leaving Fenris behind due to pride and embarrassment.

"You can't just bring Varric and Anders and hope for the best," Aveline continued lecturing.

"I was also going to bring a large supply of healing potions," Hawke smiled over her glass – an almost-genuine one, this time.

"Hawke!" Aveline warned.

"It'll be fine, Aveline," Hawke said. "We're just ruining someone's exchange of smuggled and/or stolen goods. What could possibly go wrong?"

Two hours later, Hawke found herself covered in the blood of several Qunari, watching Anders wrap up Varric's wrenched arm as Isabela explained that her relic was the reason that the Arishok was in still in Kirkwall after all these years.

Hawke began to wonder why she continually tempted fate.

"The relic is a book that was written by that philosopher of theirs. Keslan, Cousland..." Isabela said, squinting as she tried to remember the name.

"...Koslun?" Hawke asked, aghast.

"That's the one!" Isabela beamed at her.

Oh, no.

No.

Did that stupid tart even realize what she'd done? Did Castillon know what he'd gotten himself, Isabela, and all of blighted Kirkwall into?

Hawke practically growled, "There had better be a damned good reason why Castillon had you steal it."

"The Tevinter Imperium has been at war with the Qunari for centuries. If they get their hands on the book, it would give the Tevinters a huge advantage," Isabela explained.

"Does it explode? I bet it explodes," Varric said, chuckling.

"Let me see if I've got this straight... the Qunari are still in Kirkwall because that ass Castillon told you to steal a relic from them."Hawke took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before continuing, "And you want me to let you keep it, even now that I've found out it's a book that's about as sacred as Andraste's fucking handwritten autobiography."

"That's about it, yeah."

"Fan-tastic."

"Look, it's right in there," Isabela said, pointing to the foundry, "and I'm not letting it slip away again."

"Isabela, you have to give it back to the Qunari," Hawke replied. "Kirkwall can't deal with them being here, and I can't handle Kirkwall's problems forever."

"Castillon will –"

"If he gets anywhere near you, I will kill him so hard he will die to death!" Hawke shouted, too furious to notice how stupid that sounded, "And you damn well know it! I just – I can't even handle this right now. I need to kill something.Painfully."

Hawke strode over to the door of the foundry and shoved it open with her shoulder. Varric and Anders fell in behind her, exchanging concerned looks. Isabela followed behind them, wearing an unfathomable expression.

The four of them positioned themselves on either side of the open doorway. They couldn't let themselves be seen by anyone inside just yet. They could see the back of a thuggish-looking man with red hair being backed into a corner, but he was blocking their view of the person he was walking away from.

"Where's the relic?" a woman's voice rang out, hard and cold. It had a Tevinter accent.

"Er, I... I have it," the thuggish-looking man – presumably Wall-Eyed Sam – stammered.

Several things happened almost at once after that: Hawke heard a loud noise like a door slamming. A voice that clearly belonged to a Qunari shouted, "The Tome of Koslun will not fall into Tevinter hands!" Wall-Eyed Sam ran in front of them. Isabela chased after him, yelling about him getting away.

Isabela would kill or (hopefully) subdue Sam and take the relic, then she'd wait for them or come in to help.

But if the Qunari or the Tevinters go after Sam, they'll find Isabela, Hawke thought, and they'll kill her.

Furious as she was with the situation, Hawke considered Isabela a sister. And Hawke had lost enough people she loved.

There was only one thing for it, then: make sure that no one followed them when they left. This was the weakest justification she'd ever had for killing anyone, ever, but Hawke didn't care.

As she stepped forward to swiftly cut the throat of one of the magisters, she decided that the business of this city was no longer her problem. She'd give the relic back to the Arishok in the morning, wave "bon voyage," and then Kirkwall was on its own. Let it find a new chew toy, she thought as she slashed two more magisters' lives away. She'd look after her own, like she should have been doing all along. If she had, then Mother and Bethany and Carver might...

A large Qunari fist made contact with the side of her face while she was lost in her thoughts. Hawke stumbled and looked toward the creature that had hit her. There were two of him, smiling coldly with their eyes as they stepped forward to make a killing blow.

Desperate, Hawke threw one of her daggers at each of them, aiming for the middle of their chests. One dagger hit the mark. The Qunari hissed with pain.

"Hawke!" Anders' voice called, thick with worry and fear. "Hold tight!"

She felt the warm, gentle pulse of healing magic racing over her skin.

Hawke continued fighting the Qunari, though she was now unarmed. She saw cold bursts from Anders' staff hit the Qunari's skin. Bianca had also introduced herself, if the bolts embedded in the enemy's arms and face were any indication.

"This goes on too long!" the Qunari shouted.

"I agree," Hawke growled.

He swung his sword wide; she dodged under his guard. As the Qunari tried to stop his momentum, Hawke wrenched her dagger out of his chest and into his throat.

Choking and bleeding, the Qunari fell. Hawke stood over him as he died. Only afterward did she notice that the other enemies were dead.

Hawke rested her hands on her thighs for a moment, panting hard. She was completely winded, she had a stitch in her side, and she was missing a dagger. Varric and Anders ran up to her.

"Are you all right?" Anders asked, clearly concerned.

"I'll live," Hawke said, giving him a half-smile, half-grimace. "Come on."

The three of them made their way back out of the foundry, figuring they'd see Isabela there. She'd be leaning against one of the walls, maybe cleaning or sharpening her daggers with infuriating nonchalance. When they saw her, she'd shoot them a grin and ask what took them so long.

But instead, all they saw were corpses.

Isabela wasn't among the bodies, thank the Maker, but Wall-Eyed Sam was. That could only mean one thing.

None of them said anything for several long moments.

Hawke walked forward and, kneeling, checked Sam's body. Sure enough, there was a note on it.

Dear Hawke,

I have the relic, and I am gone.

The note went on after that, but Hawke couldn't read it. Her eyes blurred with tears and her shoulders shook. She wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.

Varric and Anders had stepped forward. Varric gently laid a hand on her shoulder, as if he were afraid he'd hurt her.

"It's funny, isn't it?" she said, her voice wavering, "It's just damned funny."

Varric squeezed her shoulder, but neither of them said anything.

"People will follow me into the Void if I ask them to, but I can't seem to get them to do something as simple," she choked, "as stay."

Hawke's defenses crumbled then, and she began to sob. She could hear her shaking breaths echoing off of the walls of the foundries, shattering the nearly-silent hours before dawn.