Ostwick was a pleasant sight to the gang of misfits and madmen when they finally spotted it. They'd picked up the path a few days before and had encountered many things which were a delight to travellers who hadn't seen civilisation in weeks. Travelling merchants, farm carts, even occasional villages, though they hadn't dared take lodgings, news travelled fast, after all, and little villages weren't good places to hide. As Varric pointed out, they needed crowds to get lost in.

But now Ostwick was in sight, looming out of the haze that came off the ocean like some hulking brown beast. Looking no less gloomy than Kirkwall, but to them, heaven. In the early evening light the city was beginning to glow, lanterns being lit in readiness for the night. A place they could, with any luck, find a tavern, a bath, and a ship.

They stopped about half a mile from the city walls to discuss their next move, knowing that it was likely every Templar in the city would be looking for the famous Lady Hawke and her companions.

"Well, I shouldn't have a problem," Bethany confided, "I don't think anyone's even heard of Hawke's mage sister, besides, after the way we grew up I know how to hide my powers."

Varric nodded agreement, "Well said, I think you and Bela should go in together, scout around for someone willing to sell a ship in a hurry. We've got coin, right Hawke?"

Hawke nodded, patting her pack, "Everything I could grab from the estate, plus whatever we made when we sold that venison to the famer we passed."

"Right, and I'll go with the ladies, no-one'll look twice at a dwarven merchant and his two…" he smiled across at the women in question, "escorts, looking to buy a ship."

Bethany turned pink, "Escort?"

"Oh relax sweet thing, it's all for a good cause." Bela purred, clearly delighted with the idea of having an excuse to tart up Bethany. She grabbed the young girl's arm and tugged her towards the tents, winking at Zevran as she went.

"All right," Varric declared, leaning back and pillaring his fingers as he eyed the rest of their group, "Big girl and her man shouldn't be too suspicious, still got your old uniform Aveline?"

Aveline nodded, "From before being captain, I take it? You want us to claim we're refugees from Kirkwall, don't you?"

Varric smiled, "You know me too well, Gingerbread. City guards are always welcome, just use a fake name and try not to draw attention. Now," he glanced to Hawke, then meaningfully to the rest of the crew.

Left over were Fenris, Merrill, Zevran and Anders. Three elves, one with very distinctive markings, and a man whose name and face would be known across Thedas as a terrorist of the first order.

"All right, Daisy and Prettyboy shouldn't be a problem, we chuck some dirt on them, they claim to be a couple eloping away from the Dalish." Varric spoke in decided tones, ignoring the splutter of protest from Zevran at the idea of having dirt rubbed on him as a disguise. Merrill merely smiled sweetly, of course.

Hawke nodded, "I don't like it much either Zev, but needs must." She sighed, "Myself and Anders… we might have to take our chances going over the wall, I imagine our faces and names are well-known here."

Anders sighed gently. "Hrm, I shall practise my climbing." He mumbled, rising to his feet and walking off, presumably to help pack. Back to being 'sad Anders' for a while, it seemed.

"Now Fen…" Hawke bit her lip, uncertain of how to approach the sensitive topic of his markings.

"I could… wear a hooded cloak, maybe?" he suggested without much enthusiasm. "Although the problem then becomes how suspicious a hooded elf is." He scowled and glared down at his own arm.

Hawke sighed and patted his arm, "Love…"

"Wait a moment, I have an idea!" Zevran cried out, suddenly brightening, "Amigos, we are thinking of this wrong, we do not hide ze beautiful markings!" he dove into his own pack and pulled out what appeared to be a bottle of writing ink. "We draw attention to them!" he grinned widely, looking around at the puzzled faces, "Come now, what's one more elf with tattoos eh?"

"You mean to cover my tattoos with ink?" Fenris asked, blinking at this outlandish suggestion even as the Ativan advanced towards him, uncorking the bottle.

"That's not a bad idea actually!" Hawke chirped, moving forwards too, "Might need to do something about his hair too."

Fenris' scowl deepened as he folded his arms across his chest, reluctant to allow the elf and his lover any nearer with that… scheming look in their eyes. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It doesn't match your eyebrows, for starters." Zevran muttered, dipping one finger into the ink and running across an exposed line of lyrium. Fenris flinched away at the feeling, letting out a low growl.

"Zevran, I think I'd better do that part, Fenris… doesn't like to be touched." Hawke mumbled, taking the ink bottle away quickly.

"Could have fooled me." Varric muttered, and was ignored by the blushing Hawke.

"We'll have to cover your hair somehow love, they'll be looking for elves with white hair." She cooed gently, reaching up to stroke a few fingers through his dove-coloured locks.

Once more, Zevran grinned, "Oh, that is nothing! Ze work of an instant! Zey teach us to dye our hair in the Crows, disguise is a necessity in our line of work."

Fenris' scowl deepened, "I didn't realise tarting yourself up was part of the lessons of the Crows."

"Oh si, it's the whole second year." Zevran replied cheerily, "Give me a moment or two with my potions and I shall turn your snow-covered iceburg into an ebony prince!"

Fenris growled again, while Varric and Zevran delved into the party's potion supply and Hawke began to painstakingly paint the lines of lyrium, working over the gaps in his armour first and then up to his chin. She stopped only once, to look into his olive-green eyes with an expression that was part pity, part indulgence, and all love.

"I know it's undignified, love." She whispered, leaning in to brush his lips with hers, "But think, soon we'll be in Fereldan, we'll both be free to go where-ever we want. We can travel all over, or build a home, whatever you want."

Fenris allowed a small smile to play his lips. "Hm, no more tents? I'm sick of canvas."

"No more tents." Hawke replied, nuzzling her nose against his. "A nice house, somewhere with a proper bath and a wine cellar so I can spoil you the way you deserve."

Fenris blushed, but leant forwards just enough to kiss her deeply, showing her how appealing the idea was. At the sound of footsteps behind them she drew away, ruffling his hair gently before hopping to her feet, "I'm going to go change into something less 'I'm the champion of Kirkwall'-ish, be gentle with Fenris."

Zevran and Varric watched her leave with twinned smirks, glancing back at the sulking elf as one, before Varric asked the world at large, "Think we should tell her she's got ink-marks on her chin? Been messing around, broody?"

Fenris huffed, though they noticed a secretly appeased smile crossing his lips. "Let's get on with this if it's really happening."

Two hours later, as the sun was slowly dropping, the gate-guard of Ostwick spied a man and a woman approaching, both clad in the armour of Kirkwall city guards. He nodded them through without a look, there'd been plenty of refugees trickling in since the disaster at the Gallows.

"There's warm beds and food at the Vulgar Lion… can't miss it, look for the sign with the ah… Lion on it." The guard smiled hopefully, "Welcome to Ostwick."

"Thank you, serrah." Aveline replied with a wry smile. Vulgar Lion? Sounded like Varric's sort of place.

Ten minutes or so later and a dwarf approached, two elegantly-attired women following with their faced covered in pale, almost diaphanous cloths covering the lower halves of their faces. A Merchant then, and the women? Possible slaves or perhaps just 'escorts' for a wealthy man. They were beauties, the guard was happy to admit, one dusky and dark, the other pale as new snow.

"Varius, merchant." Varric introduced himself happily, nodding towards the women, "And my… friends, Belle and Bette."

'Belle' winked one eye, the guard melted, nodding them through the gates. "O-of course, welcome to Ostwick to you and your… lovely companions. There's probably some beds free at the Vulgar Lion."

He was still revelling in the beauty of the women when the elves came strolling over, three of them in all, two with dark hair and the familiar markings of the Dalish, and a third blonde one whose own facial ink was somewhat unfamiliar.

"Halt, what business have you in the city, knife-ears?" he cried, raising his pikestaff.

"No need for such fear, my friend." The Blonde one replied easily, waving his hand, "We're merely passing through, I am helping these two to run away from their clans." He nodded to where the two others stood, "Their families didn't approve."

The Guard looked uncertain, but the tan elf looked honest enough, and the dark-haired male behind him was looking increasingly angered by the fact that they'd stopped. He sighed, "All right, but make sure it is just a pass through the city, we've got more than enough elves."

The tanned elf nodded and hurried himself and his friends through the city gates. Inside, Merrill giggled girlishly at their deception, "My, you did so well Zevran! Now where do we go?"

"The Vulgar lion, we're bound to find Varric there if no-one else." Fenris grumbled, scratching at his arm where the ink was irritating his sensitive skin. As he did, a jangling noise rang out and as one, the three elves looked down.

A ring was laying on the cobblestones at their feet. Fenris dove and seized the thing back; shoving it once more under the red sash he wore around his wrist. Hardly the safest pocket, but he bridled when he couldn't feel it against his skin and be certain of its presence.

Zevran smirked, wisely staying silent. Merrill giggled again, covering her mouth adorably before cooing out, "Oh Fenris! She'll be so pleased!"

Fenris couldn't bite back the little smile, much as he wanted to. "Do you… think so?" he asked, before shaking his head and grumbling, "In any case, you will not tell her. I… intend to surprise her, perhaps when we get to Fereldan."

Merrill nodded, just once, before linking her arms with the two handsome elves. Just for a moment she felt she could indulge herself in being the luckiest female elf in Thedas, a handsome elf on both arms and true friends waiting for her somewhere in this exciting new city.

Back outside, the gate guard shook his head to himself; leaning on his pikestaff and rubbing his neck. This city… filling up with refugees and elves. And no sign of the fugitives that everyone was seeking. Now wouldn't that have been a coup, if he'd caught the Exiled Champion and the terrorist Mage? He could have named his position in the guard for something like that, he could-

There was a silent puff of black smoke behind him. He never knew what struck him on the back of his head, knocking him clean out.

Hawke tucked her dagger back onto its sheath. Anders crept over from where he'd hidden by the roads, eyes narrowed in disapproval, "Did we have to do that? He was just a boy."

"Don't go justice on me now Anders, he was in the way and he'll have nothing worse than a headache in the morning." She rubbed her forehead, "So, do you think we look sufficiently un-Hawke and un-Anders like?"

Anders eyed the woman. She was wearing a dress, something Hawke hadn't ever done, to his knowledge, and loosened her hair. To her face, Zevran had added some temporary facial tattoos in light blue. Certainly it took two or three glances to be sure of who she was, even for her friends. And for himself, his coat had been rolled into his pack, his staff re-decorated to become a spear and some of Donnic's armour borrowed to turn him from a mage into a warrior. Hopefully it would be enough.

"I think so." He replied. "I hope so." He hesitated a moment longer, than added, "Hawke, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me… I… I can't believe that you would risk so much."

Hawke shrugged blithely, eyeing the wall with criticism. "You're my friend, Anders, no matter what you did. Give me a leg-up, would you? We'll be inside soon enough and then we can get ourselves some drinks!"

He did so, watching her lithe shape scramble to the top before she began to unwind a rope for him. He glanced back to the woods and path they'd been following then shook his head and returned his eyes to the wall before him, "Right, your friend. No matter what."