"It's deceptive in its… alleged… simplicity, I'll give it that," Fenris grumbled.
"I'd like to argue that point," Merrill piped, her voice breaking.
"It's a risk for Merrill, that's for certain," Aveline pointed out.
"Are we sure she won't be recognized?" Anders asked.
"If we're concerned about recognition - don't you think I should be excluded from the plan?" Fenris suggested.
"Broody is right, his look is a bit unique," Varric agreed.
"I'd say Fenris is pretty essential to the idea, though yes? That role could literally not be played by anyone else," Anders argued.
"That's if I can even accomplish it in the first place," Fenris said.
Hawke sighed. It had been going on like this for quite a while, and they were beginning to talk themselves into circles. Sebastian was the only one who hadn't spoke in some time, instead leaning by the wall near the fireplace in Hawke's entry chamber, dancing flames casting shadows across his knit brow. Hawke crossed the room toward him, leaving the others to continue their spiraling conversation. She leaned against the wall near him, holding her still bruised torso gently. It had only been a couple of days since she sustained the injuries, and though better, they were still giving her too much grief for her liking.
"You seem lost in thought," she said, keeping her voice low.
"At the beginning of this meeting, didn't you already have a plan?" he asked.
"Yes," she sighed, "At least, I thought so. Any advice you'd like to throw in the mix?"
"Yes. You're allowing them too much say," he said bluntly, eyeing the group scornfully as they continued to argue, oblivious to Hawke's retreat.
"This has never been a dictatorship," she said, surprised to learn the reason for his isolation.
"The dynamic has to change Hawke," he said, quieting his voice, "Or this expedition is never going to work, and we're all going to argue ourselves into an early grave out there. You have to stop being their friend and start being their leader again. You can't be both, not now, not for this."
"Wait," Hawke started somewhat sheepishly, "Ourselves… into an early grave? Like, Fenris, Varric, Merrill, me and… you? Like us?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. He returned her look flatly, then sighed heavily.
"Yes."
Hawke could feel tension in her chest unwind that she hadn't even known was there. Having Sebastian join them would be a boon both in battle and for their spirits.
"Thank you Sebastian," she said appreciatively.
"You're welcome, but that doesn't change how I feel about the situation. You can't let them squabble about every minor detail like this - you have to tell them how it's going to be."
"It can't be that cut and dry," she said a bit hopelessly. He was unfortunately making a lot of sense.
"I think it is, Hawke. If there's room for their opinions, they won't stop pushing until the whole thing has fallen apart. We won't have time for that out there."
"I value that though, different outlooks – it gives us perspective," she argued.
"Taking viewpoints under advisement is one thing. Putting it to a group vote is something else entirely. You know how at odds our opinions are on the subject. For Anders, every mage is innocent until caught, literally, red-handed. Fenris would happily lop of the head of every one of them himself. Aveline would haul them all back to Kirkwall to face a fair trial. Merrill would probably like to sit down and have a chat to see if she can learn anything useful from them. It's that kind of disjointed behavior that could get us killed out there. We need to be single-minded, to have someone to look to and follow," he said, sounding more and more regal with each resolute statement.
"What experience gives me that charge? Anders was a Grey Warden, Aveline commands the entire city guard, Varric's a noble, you're a prince for Maker's sake!"
Sebastian shook his head, "You can't play the reluctant hero anymore. This army needs a general, and it's the Champion of Kirkwall. It's the woman who fought back darkspawn from Ferelden to the Free Marches and survived. It's the woman who was trapped by a mad man in the Deep Roads and managed to escape. It's the woman that dueled the Arishok to the death, saved the city and won the hearts of its citizens."
"How about the woman who let both her siblings get killed? Or the woman whose own mother was kidnapped right out from under her nose by a crazed lunatic and then murdered? Or who was too blind to see Isabela's treachery before it was too late? Take your pick, Sebastian, I don't think anything about that woman screams 'unwavering leader'," she said.
"You have to stop feeling guilty about things that were beyond your control," he said, the hardness in his tone beginning to falter in favor of compassion.
"It isn't guilt," she said, sighing and looking away, "It's a bloody curse."
"You're no one's curse, Hawke," he said sincerely.
"How about the time I made you guys all take part in a blood magic ritual?" she added, tilting her head accusatorially.
Sebastian sighed, "No one forced us, and certainly not you… you were all but dead."
Hawke gave him a pointed look, but let him continue.
"You'd have done the same for any of us. Yes, it's a terrible thing, but it was done out of love and devotion, because the six of us care about you more than reason itself. It was dangerous, but we couldn't let you die if we had a chance to let you live. That was a choice we all made, together. When it comes to you, Hawke, we're steadfast."
She had always been eager for advice Sebastian was willing to offer. Though he acted as though knowledge of leadership was something never afforded him, it came naturally to him either way, it was in his blood. Hawke knew he was right on this point, as he so often was. She had been finding excuses over the last few months to back away from her commanding role. What had happened with the prophet and Belhim'irsa had intimidated her. Instead of accepting that and dealing with the reasons why, she was trying to train, research and prepare them out of existence.
"Just think about it, okay?" Sebastian said, and she was surprised when he stepped toward her and planted a kiss on her forehead, like an older brother to a wayward sister. As he crossed the room back toward the others, her heart momentarily lurched with memories of Carver. He had always tried to treat her like a little sister, even though she was older. She was shocked back out of the moment however when Sebastian's fist hit the table forcefully. The others were instantly silenced, turning to look at him with the same surprise that struck Hawke's face.
"There will be no more discussion about this," he said firmly, "The plan will work, and we will implement it as it stands now."
No one said anything for a few long moments, they weren't used to seeing Sebastian like that. In fact, they'd never seen it.
"Choir Boy's right," Varric said after a moment, sounding a bit apprehensive and eyeing Sebastian warily, "We all know what we need to do to get ready."
"Let's have it done then," Sebastian said amicably, the temper having cooled from his tone. The others nodded in assent and broke quietly into smaller groups to discuss preparations. Sebastian turned back toward Hawke, approaching a few paces, then sweeping into a stately bow, flourishing gracefully with one hand. Hawke had to stifle a laugh at the gesture. Her grin was returned in kind as he stood, then turned and glided away toward the front door.
Hawke laid herself down carefully onto the lounge in front of the fireplace, adjusting until her torso was as pain free as possible. She let herself sink into her thoughts as she stared at the flickering flames, trying to work out the reasons behind her wavering mindset. She knew where to start, with the guilt she felt over everything that had happened since their discovery of the prophet and her flocks.
Fenris had been gutted and almost died because the Belhim'irsa could sense her fondness for him. She hadn't admitted it to him, but this worried her. She found herself wanting to distance herself from the elf so he wouldn't be as likely to be put in harms way in the future. She couldn't resist him, however, she felt drawn to him both physically and emotionally, and no matter how resolute her thoughts on the subject, she'd find herself moments later languishing in his embrace and unable to tear herself away.
Then there was Anders. Justice had saved Fenris's life, likely all their lives. Though she wouldn't have it any other way, it had shown how much control Anders had been able, or willing, to give up to the spirit, as well as how much the two were starting to become one. She knew she was overdue a discussion with the mage about it, but the way he had been acting of late, she was afraid he would distance himself even more, or worse, leave for good, if she were to push the issue.
Then there was the ritual they had done to save her. It was this that tormented her dreams, this that created the dense, heavy guilt that pulled at her heart when she was awake. She should have died, and she knew that without the ritual, she would have. As much as she wanted to distance herself from the events of that night, she could still feel it, like a taint upon her very essence. What natural order might they have disrupted?
It seemed like every day the lot of them were, in one way or another, put in charge of saying who lived and who died, but somehow, bringing her back from the brink seemed different, it seemed wrong. Maybe it was because of how very little she knew about what they'd done. Merrill had all kinds of dark knowledge that Hawke normally avoided conceptualizing, for her own peace of mind, but Hawke had never understood how the elf had known how to save her.
She knew this was a major reason she'd become so consumed with preparations, she felt she had something to prove. She was trying to make up for what she felt was a breach in the mortal coil - to justify her continued existence, right or wrong, by destroying this new and dangerous order of maleficarum. So then, if she was so intent on eliminating the apostates responsible for the Belhim'irsa, why was she so reluctant to be the one to lead the troops into battle?
They had never faced a threat that widespread before, and though she'd never admit it to the others, she was intimidated. Would the Champion of Kirkwall be able to succeed outside the city gates? Or was she leading them all to ruin, to certain death? There was that nagging, persistent question again, the one that had plagued her thoughts for years - were they all better off without her? The rest of her family had perished in the wake of her, was she going to get her new family killed as well? Would they all be better off, safer at least, without her?
She waved as they trickled out one by one, off to attend to the tasks that had been laid before them. She knew her own assignment all too well, after Anders had returned her to an incensed Fenris the previous day, she had received a thorough scolding from them both about the importance of rest and recovery. Though it had annoyed her at the time, she remembered it fondly now as one of the rare instances in which the two men were of one mind. She was pleased to know she could bring that out in them, at least.
The two were often at odds, but when it came to her they really had seemed to come to an understanding, as Fenris had mentioned the other day. It surprised her, she felt if the roles were switched up and someone else had show an interest in Fenris, she'd be routed with jealousy. Then again, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe none of it was that simple between them all now, so routine. They'd become a cohesive entity and as certain relationships shifted, the others melded around it to make them fit, make them work. They were more functional than she gave them credit for.
So she promised herself she would make a concerted effort to step back into her role, to be the leader they needed her to be, hoping it would allow them to continue functioning, to move forward as one. She tried to rehash the things she needed to work on, things she'd done wrong and how to correct them in the future, but it wasn't long before she let her eyes shut, ready to let sleep take her.