Chapter Three: Questioning Beliefs

Marian returned to her manor just long enough to retrieve her knapsack and Swoop. The house was empty. Bodhan and Sandal had already left, and for the first time in years, no fire blazed in the hearth of the great room. The Champion paused only once to look one last time at a portrait of her mother.

She remembered life in Lothering. It was there that she learned to fight in order to protect her sister's freedom. She had used that in the battle against the Darkspawn and had never stopped since she set foot in Kirkwall. Fighting wearied her, and because of it, she had lost everything close to her. But, if she were not a warrior, what in the world was she? She knew of no other way.

That was the reason for setting sail. Isabela had known true freedom and insisted on supporting it wherever there was a need. It had kept Marian from going overboard so many times during the years in Kirkwall, keeping her from succumbing to the ever-building rage that slowly overtook her heart. Leandra had wanted her daughter to marry and settle down, to start a new family for the one she had lost. The only attempt at that had borne no fruit whatsoever. Marian knew that Sebastian was putting all his effort into rebuilding the Chantry. There was never a place for them in such a broken world as this.

Resolute in her decision, Marian said goodbye to the painting and left her manor once more and for the final time. No matter the family ties, there had never been anything for her here.

"There is absolutely no way that we're transporting Qunari, Hawke. Not after what happened here."

"I would really like to know who made you in charge of this expedition, then, Guard-Captain, as you weren't even supposed to be involved." Marian looked pointedly at Isabel, who proceeded to shrug innocently.

"The whore had nothing to do with this," Aveline went on. "Did you think I wouldn't have my eye on you after you locked yourself away as you did? I'm worried about you, Hawke-even more that I know you're planning to flee! Cullen and I can't set this city to rights without you. The task is too big."

Marian slammed her knapsack down on the quayside and stepped over to the red-haired woman until they were nearly nose to nose. "Too big? Of course it's too bloody big! Even if all three of us put our entire lives into it, we wouldn't manage much. I'm sure the people of Kirkwall are pliant now with the afterglow of victory still shining on their faces, but how long do you think that will last? You, Cullen, me-we're all bloody Fereldan. Once that sinks in, some Marcher with a thirst for power as Meredith had will come knocking on the door of Viscount's Keep. I don't have the stomach to sort someone else's problems again." She prodded a finger into Aveline's heavily armored chest. "To the Void with them."

Aveline stepped back, aghast. She had never seen Marian so wild-eyed, so exhausted yet carried entirely on the shoulders of anger. It called for intervention, and it was needed right then and there.

"These people made you what you are, Hawke! They are eternally grateful to you, and they will never again care whether or not you're Fereldan or Free Marcher."

"Made me what I am?" The Champion's voice dripped with the irony of it. "I hate what I am. I have done nothing but struggle against a society that sees struggle as the only way to get anywhere. I'm tired. I no longer wish to fight just to live as I see fit. I shouldn't have to." She picked up her pack and walked purposefully to the ship, sailors visible in the rigging preparing everything for that evening's sail.

Aveline was not to be brushed aside in such a way. She had one last tactic before she totally lost patience.

"You can't just leave, Hawke," she said, her voice more pleading than angry. "Kirkwall made you Viscountess because you are the best for the job. And you know you are. You have the ability to manage this city so that it can be the best it has ever been. You won't be alone. You have your friends."

Marian halted just steps away from the gangplank. She didn't have to turn around to know that Aveline's expression was a mix of sorrow and frustration. The years had been hard on them both, but they had been as sisters, sharing the common bond of serving in King Cailan's army against the Blight. The Champion knew that if she boarded that ship, Aveline would feel obligated to come along, even if it meant abandoning her duties to the city guard interminably.

"I need to leave," Marian stated firmly, still not turning around. "And I need you here. Seneschal Bran is well acquainted with the duties of a Viscount. I'm certain that he'll be more than capable of taking care of things until my return."

"But, Hawke-"

"I need you here." Only then did the Champion look over her shoulder to lock eyes with Aveline. Their green eyes were nearly identical. Not only did they act as sisters, but they very well looked the part, too. None would have been the wiser that it had been totally by chance that they knew each other at all.

That same similarity is what ultimately forced Aveline to drop the subject entirely. With a sigh, she turned and walked away, her steps carrying the heavy weight of disappointment. Marian did not like watching her dearest friend leave-on her own command, no less-but she knew it would be too much to ask that Aveline even understand what the Champion intended to do once out to sea. Just to understand...not even approve. It would make her fellow soldier about as useless as the Grand Cleric had been controlling the mages and Templars barely a week prior.

Isabela had remained gloriously silent during the heated exchange and continued to be quiet as she followed Marian up the gangplank and onto the main deck of the ship. Once she set foot on the newly swabbed golden wood, however, it became an entirely different story. She immediately began barking out orders to the sailors in a strange dialect common amongst seafarers. Entire syllables were dropped. Words not used anywhere on land flew about like so much hot air, and no one, no matter their country of origin, failed to understand.

The bustle brought a few others up on deck from somewhere down below. Squinting as if he'd gotten used to a lack of sunlight, Fenris appeared from a hatch on the forward deck. Varric was also present. The dwarf leaped down from where he had been standing near the helm, Bianca firmly strapped to his back like she was just another extension of his stout body.

"Come now, Hawke," he said lightly in response to the woman's blatant look of surprise. "Surely you couldn't expect us allto stay behind."

"Varric...but..."

The dwarf shrugged. "I hear there are plenty of exiled dwarven nobles in Rivain-not just Lord Harrowmont. We still have spoils from the Deep Roads to rid ourselves of, and they are exactly the right buyers."

"And if you insist on going into Qunari territory," Fenris added, stepping forward, "I needn't remind you of my extensive knowledge."

Marian raised an eyebrow at him before nodding in the direction of where Taarbas was helping to stow his cargo below decks.

"Well..." the warrior shrugged helplessly, "It never hurts to have a foreigner also familiar with the culture. It's not exactly a friendly part of the world we're sailing to."

"Face it, Hawke. You might have put Freckles in her place in telling her to sod off, but you can't get rid of us. We have less to lose in leaving Kirkwall than you do."

Marian simply stood there and digested that for a moment, looking from the dwarf to the elf and back again. Then, she asked with just a hint of humor in her voice, "Freckles?"

"What can I say," Varric replied lightheartedly. "'Guard-Captain Aveline' was really getting to be too much of a mouthful."