Anders left the protection of the entrance of Hawke's estate and moved into the sunlight, wondering where Hawke could be. He had come looking for her but Bodahn had told him she had left some hours ago without telling him where she was headed.

He sighed and looked at the sky; the sun was beginning to hide behind the high walls of Kirkwall, the shadows slowly reclaiming the territory they had lost during the day.

The mage took a couple of hesitant steps, unsure of where to go next. He wondered if Hawke was still upset with Sebastian... he hoped she was. A sudden headache made him wince; Justice disagreed.

"Oh, shut up, old boy..." He whispered and ignored the pain; he didn't care if he was being selfish. He needed to seize this opportunity. But before he could decide on a direction, a familiar voice made him turn his head to his left and his eyes found her: Hawke was marching quickly across Hightown Square with her mabari, followed closely by Sebastian and Varric.

Sebastian. Dammit.

Without thinking twice, he hurried up to catch up with them.

"Hawke!"

She slowed down and turned her head around, along with the rest of the party, to see who was calling her.

"Anders! Great timing. Come with us!" she said, beckoning to him, and resumed her pace before Anders could reach her.

The mage frowned, puzzled, and caught up with Varric at the rear of the party.

"What's going on?" he asked him.

"Trouble, Blondie. What else could it be with Hawke?"

"What kind of trouble?"

"Do you want the epic version or the simple one?"

"The simple one; I can read the other later when it's finished," Anders answered with a slight smirk.

"Oh, you're no fun..." Varric replied and started explaining the journey that had begun with the letter that Hawke had received earlier that day and had led them to the Qunati compound. "So when we finally reached the Arishok, he gracefully informed us that Seamus was not even there; apparently, the viscount had sent a letter pleading to his son to meet him at the chantry. But, of course, the viscount had not sent any such letter so that's when Hawke put it all together: chantry, plus Qunari trouble, equals..."

Anders thought for a minute and then the face of a woman with short blond hair crossed his mind. "...Petrice."

"Ding, ding, ding. So now we're on our way to save the viscount's boy from the claws of Mother Petrice."

"Crap."

"Exactly."

Hatred distorted Anders's features. "Blasted Chantry! Always meddling with issues that doesn't concern them..." Anders said loud enough for everyone to hear and spat on the floor, right at the base of the long staircase that led up to the chantry's doors.

Hawke saw Sebastian clench his jaw, clearly disliking Anders's derision on the Chantry. She placed her hand gently on his arm as they started to climb the steps, grabbing his attention, and made an almost imperceptible shake of his head, her eyes on his. He stared at her and then Hawke watched him exhale the air that he had been keeping inside.

The exchange put a frown on Anders brows: what on earth had that been? He feared he had come too late; it seemed Hawke had gotten over whatever it had been that had driven her away from Sebastian.

But he didn't have time to puzzle more, for they were almost at the chantry's entrance.

Hawke halted before the massive double doors and lowered her head, taking a few seconds to calm down and collect her thoughts; there were too many factors involved in this situation that required careful handling, too many powers pulling and pushing that could tip the balance into chaos or peace. And the Maker knew she wasn't the most diplomatic person. She felt inadequate in a way, pushed into a political game she hated, with only her principles to keep her from drowning.

Sebastian called her name, pulling her back to the present. She sighed before turning around to stare at them all.

"I think it's obvious we're walking intro a trap. Be alert."

Everyone nodded.

With that, she turned around and pushed the doors open.

The chantry stood unnervingly silent and deserted ahead of them. They crossed the threshold, their steps echoing against the walls, the clink of armor and weapons too loud in the sacred space. Hawke moved ahead, guided by the light of the few torches that could barely hold the shadows at bay along the long corridor that led to the nave.

Once they reached the altar, she looked up; she could make out the silhouette of a man kneeling on it, head lowered, his face hidden by the shadows. She thought about calling Seamus's name but something stopped her. With a sense of foreboding, she climbed the stairs, followed by the others. No one said anything. They all felt a strange pressure in the air that refused to be disrupted by any noise.

Hawke approached the kneeling figure of the viscount's son, fearing the worst. Getting on one knee next to him, she touched his shoulder and watched in horror as Seamus's body collapsed to the ground.

"Serah Hawke, look at what you have done."

Hawke snapped her head towards the voice that had spoken and found Mother Petrice approaching the altar from below. She was accompanied by several armed men and women, including a templar.

Petrice continued, "To pounce upon the viscount's son, a repentant convert, in the chantry itself? A crime with no excuse. Your Qunari masters will finally answer."

Anger boiled in Hawke's veins as she raised herself from the floor. She felt her friends close in behind her and knew they were as angry as her.

Looking down at Petrice and her entourage, she shouted, her frustration clear in her voice, "How does this help anything? All this will do is make people hate you!" She just couldn't comprehend how blind and full of righteous hatred this woman was. It would actually be funny if she wasn't so dangerous.

"I have kept the fear of the Qunari fresh in every sermon, every prayer. They will know whose word to believe. When people learn of this attack, they will rise. Not zealots or the unknowing, but the true majority."

Hawke huffed. "Great plan! Until people start dying in a war with the Qunari."

Someone had allowed this madwoman to acquire too much power...

"To die untested would be the real crime. People need the opportunity to defend faith. Starting with you." Petrice turned around before Hawke could answer and shouted to her followers, "Earn your reward in this life and the next! These heretics must die!"

Hawke cursed and watched Petrice disappear behind her followers. She turned around and shouted some orders to her friends. They were going to have to kill innocent people. Fools, but innocent in the end.

They didn't pose much of a threat to Hawke's party but she had to give it to them: the righteous angry mob did have a lot of spirit. After almost getting overwhelmed by it in the first few minutes of the battle, they soon changed the odds to their favor. The only one who gave them real trouble was the leader: the masked templar, but two angry apostates, two expert archers, and a vicious war dog were too much for him to handle at the same time and he was down soon enough.

When the battle was over, Petrice reappeared with impeccable timing, herding the grand cleric behind her.

"Do you see, Your Grace? Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry! They defile with every step!"

Hawke wished she could set Petrice on fire. She almost did but Sebastian grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Enough death, Hawke... The grand cleric will solve this," he whispered to her and let her wrist go when he saw her nod and felt her hand relax.

Elthina stopped before the bloodbath that covered her chantry and took in the sight with clear eyes. "There is death in every corner, young mother. It is as you predicted. All too well," she said with a sad and tired tone touching her voice. And yet, to Hawke she didn't look too affected, considering that her chantry was full of corpses and blood. As if she had expected this... In any case, it was clear that Elthina wasn't fooled by Petrice's show.

"She's on to you, Petrice. Quick, lie harder," Hawke said.

Petrice grimaced, an ugly sneer on her lips. "Don't you spout your Qunari filth. This is a hand of the Divine."

"I have ears, Mother Petrice," the grand cleric interrupted her. "The Maker would have me use them."

Hawke nodded; it was time to set things straight and see justice done.

"Viscount Dumar's son is dead, killed here in your name," she told Elthina.

"I'm sure my name won't like that. Petrice?"

"Seamus Dumar was a Qunari convert! He came here to repent and was murdered!" the mother replied, desperation creeping in her defense.

Hawke added, "Petrice arranged this. And more. Love or hate the Qunari, a blind nug could see she took this too far."

"No price is too much when we speak of eternity!"

"Oh, please..." Anders said under his breath, behind Hawke. Even Sebastian shook his head. Hawke was starting to feel sorry for that woman.

"Eternity is long enough that we need not rush to meet it," Elthina said calmly to Petrice.

"They deny the Maker!"

"And you diminish Him, even as you claim his side. Andraste did not volunteer for the flame," she scolded her and then turned to Hawke. "Serah Hawke, you act on behalf of the viscount?"

Hawke assented.

"The young mother has erred in her judgment. A court will decide her fate. The Chantry respects the law, and so must she."

Erred in her judgement? Hawke stared at her, a little shocked. She was impressed by the imperturbability the grand cleric was showing at this incident, knowing she would not be as composed. Maybe it was a sign of a good grand cleric. Who knew.

She spied on Sebastian from the corner of her eye and saw a hard expression on his features, making it hard to read them. She thought she could see approbation in it, though. She frowned but she couldn't help the satisfaction she felt when she saw the look of incredulity on Petrice's face after hearing Elthina's words.

The mother called to her twice, shock filling her voice as she watched the grand cleric turn her back on her and walk away. She turned back, trying to understand what had just happened when surprise took over her face.

Hawke didn't have time to turn around and see what had shocked Petrice; something else had grabbed her attention: an arrow impacted on the mother's chest, piercing it, and sending her two steps backwards with the force of the impact. Petrice fell down to her knees.

They all turned around in time to see a Qunari take one more step toward them and walk nearer his target. He raised his bow again and Hawke's eyes followed the arrow's trajectory into Petrice's brain. The corpse fell to the floor in a pool of blood.

Hawke looked back at the Qunari.

"We protect those of the Qun. We do not abandon our own," he explained and went back the way he had come.

"Andraste's ass, I didn't see that one coming..." Varric muttered as they all turned back to see Petrice's corpse lying on the tiles.

Elthina's voice reached them. They looked up and spotted her standing at the top of the stairs, watching the scene in front of her with a pained expression. "Please... send for Viscount Dumar..." she said and then left them.

Sebastian had to repress the urgency to follow the grand cleric and talk to her, but Hawke had instinctively moved closer to him so he stayed where he was.

Varric turned to face them and said, "Hawke, do you want me to go fetch the viscount?"

"That would be great if you could, my friend," she said gratefully.

"Anything for you, Hawke," he winked at her and left.

None one said anything for a while after the dwarf departed; the three of them could feel the magnitude of what had happened here and there was nothing they could do but wait for the viscount's reaction. Sebastian felt a pang of sorrow as he watched the carnage committed inside this holy place, knowing his part in it.

He finally spoke, giving voice to this thoughts, "Qunari and blood in the chantry. The viscount's son dead. This won't just go away."

"I don't think anyone came out unscathed. What now?" Anders added.

Hawke stared at the Qunari arrows protruding from the corpse of Mother Petrice, thinking. She rubbed her temples; she could feel a headache coming. "The Arishok's the one to worry about. So we clean up and wait for trouble to find us."

She stepped away from them and climbed up to the altar again, where Seamus lay under the shadow of Andraste's statue. The boy may have been stubborn but Hawke had always admired his convictions and determination... Anger returned. She knew she couldn't directly blame the grand cleric for the actions of one of her flock but still, Elthina was responsible in a way and maybe if she had acted sooner instead of waiting...

The viscount's arrival interrupted her train of thought. He came surrounded by city guards but he commanded them to stay near the entrance until he called for them.

Hawke watched him walked towards her from her place in the altar with the gait of a man who has lost all hope but refuses to acknowledge it yet, as if he dreaded what he would find at the end of the path his legs were inevitably taking him.

He didn't even look at Hawke when he stepped on the altar and was faced with his worst nightmare; the look on his face made Hawke look away as she recognized the despair behind his eyes. Viscount Dumar's knees crumbled to the floor as if they couldn't hold the weight of his heart anymore. He took his son's body into his arms, shaking with rage, with grief... Defeat was etched to the lines of his shoulders and neck.

"My... son," he said with effort. "Murdered at the heart of the chantry by those who held a sacred trust. What hope for the city, when we fail our own so completely?" he asked, reflecting all the despair and anger that were still so fresh in her own heart for her mother's death.

The scene in front of her eyes was too close, too achingly familiar and it threatened to reopen a wound that was just starting to heal. But she also knew how much was at stake for the entire city if actions were not taken immediately so she kept her own emotions at bay. She hated what she needed to say and the words came out without sarcasm or humor.

"The Arishok is still here, Excellency. You must be ready to stand up to him..." she heard herself say, surprised that she still cared about Kirkwall and its people, even after everything that had happened.

Viscount Dumar looked away from her and back at his son.

"I cannot. I have already failed where it mattered most..."

Grief started to shake his entire body and tears fell over the lifeless face of his son.

"Please, Hawke... Leave me..." he pleaded and his voice formed a knot in her own throat. She nodded and backed away, leaving him alone with his irreparable loss.

Sebastian was waiting for her at the end of the stairs, flexing and extending a hand he had bruised during the battle. He stopped when he heard the sound of her steps and looked up, noticing right away the mask of contained grief covering her face that he had come to know so well in the last weeks. She just looked back at him, moisture threatening to overwhelm her eyes, and he breached the distance between them and grazed her face with his hand, his own eyes speaking without words.

"Get me out of here..." she whispered to him and he nodded, taking her hand and leading her away from the terrible scene.

Marian watched Sebastian as he brought the fire in her room back to life. The dying embers still had enough life in them to send their light dancing over his armor and face. She could feel a tightness in her chest that was more than just her old wound reawakened by the viscount's loss. Yes, the grief was there, probing at her defenses, but she ignored it. Her discomfort had more to do with the grand cleric and a thought that had nested inside her mind: that maybe Anders was right in a way and Elthina was not the leader she should be; that she was truly incapable of action when it was most needed.

She wondered if Sebastian had noticed it or he still worshiped her as always... And yet, she knew he still looked up to her, and who could blame him? She had practically been his only family since the day he joined the Chantry.

Hawke made the wine swirl in the glass she was holding in her hand, no longer seeing Sebastian. Events had been set in motion this night that she couldn't stop or control but could only wait for them to happen and she didn't like that. She took a big drink from the glass and set it on the table. That was when she noticed that Sebastian was the one watching her now.

"How are you, Marian?" he asked, his voice so low she knew it belonged only to her, and, in spite of the turmoil disturbing her mind, the intimacy of his voice curved the corners of her lips into an involuntary smile and eased the knot inside her chest.

A light answer tried to assemble on her mouth but failed. What came out of her lips surprised her with its honesty, "Upset. Worried. Angry... Really tired. How are you?"

He moved closer to where she was resting and sat on the chair in front of her. Then he said, "Same as you."

"Upset, worried, angry, and really tired?" she asked with a slight smirk.

Sebastian chuckled. "Exactly."

They let the silence fall between them as they smiled at each other, allowing themselves to be comforted by the growing warmth coming from the fireplace and the sound of burning logs. It had been a long day, full of changes and decisions, and they needed a respite.

But it wasn't long before Hawke started fidgeting on her chair, her mind going round and round the same thought that wouldn't let her rest. She chewed her lower lip, thinking; she might as well bring up the subject that was troubling her and be done with it.

"Sebastian..."

"Yes?"

"What do you think of the way Elthina handled what happened tonight?"

He looked at her, baffled by the question. "What?"

Returning his gaze, she repeated the question, louder this time.

"I think she handled it wisely," he answered, a frown creasing his brow; something about the way she had asked the question bothered him. "Why do you ask?"

"Wisely..." she whispered, not looking at him.

Sebastian leaned forward and touched her knee. "Hawke, where did that come from? What's going on inside your head?"

She lifted her eyes and found his again. Fair questions, both of them, as she had just blurted the subject out, but she didn't offer an explanation; she kept pouring her thoughts out to him. "You really think she couldn't have done better? Don't you ever question the decisions she makes?"

He leaned back, taken aback by the judgmental tone in her voice. "It is not my place to question what she does. She is wiser than us and more compassionate and we won't always understand the reasons she has for the decisions she makes..." he said defensively.

Hawke had to bite her tongue before saying something she would regret. She didn't know why but she was starting to feel angry. She just stared at him, aghast, refraining her desire to start shaking him.

"Are you serious?"

He felt her question, her whole attitude, like an attack that threatened to widen the crack that had been weakening his faith and conviction; he couldn't stand it, for those had been the only things he had counted on for half of his life, and Hawke's presence just seemed to be destined to make him doubt everything.

"Why would I not be serious? Elthina is the most beloved grand cleric Kirkwall has ever had and no one has the right to question her authority."

"She is still just a human being, Sebastian. She can make mistakes."

"Exactly. Why are you judging her? Petrice was the one who crossed the line here, not Elthina."

"I am not judging anyone. I just disagree with her decisions. The grand cleric needs to step up and take action and accept the responsibilities that are on her shoulders. How is it possible she couldn't have known what Mother Petrice was doing? Does she not supervise her own flock? She just lets all the people under her command do whatever they want?"

Sebastian let out an incredulous laugh. By this time, they were both leaning forward, their faces just inches away from each other. "Petrice acted on her own volition and in secret. How was Elthina supposed to know what she was doing? Besides, what did you expect her to do? Sentence Petrice to death? Kill her with her own bare hands?"

"No, but it could have been prevented! That's my point! But no one cares! They all just sit and wait, hoping all the problems this city has will solve on their own, even the ones in places of power. And I'm the one who has to fix all their messes but I'm always too late!"

Hawke stopped shouting because her voice had broken with the last word; there it was, the real reason she was so upset and she remembered it had nothing to do with Sebastian...

He watched her for a few seconds, observing her face change, and then leaned back. Hawke grabbed glass of wine and took another drink. The prince lowered his head with a sigh. "This is getting us nowhere, Hawke." He started to rise but a whisper stopped him. "What?"

"I am sorry..." she said louder this time. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It's not your fault."

He shook his head. "Look..." he said and rose this time, "we are both tired. I don't think it's the best time to discuss these matters. I should leave and let you rest..."

"You don't have to leave," she said, taking hold of his hand to stop him.

"Yes, I do," he leaned forward to kiss her fingers gently. "Goodnight, Marian..."

He left her then and she stayed where she was, hand still outstretched in the empty air, staring at the door that had closed behind him, feeling that she had somehow crushed something fragile that had just begun to grow.

Slowly, she lowered her arm as the grief began to overwhelm her, its dark tendrils embracing her heart like the arms of a lover. But she pushed it back with the force of her anger and frustration and stood up, grabbed her glass of wine and threw it into the fireplace, feeding the flames with the spirit of the red liquid.

The fire flared up for a few seconds and then kept on crackling as if nothing had happened.

"Maker's breath, I can't do anything right," she murmured.

She thought about going to sleep and let the day slip away from her, but she looked at her bed and, even as tired as she was, Hawke decided not to crawl into its empty and cold sheets; she didn't want to be alone with herself tonight.

Calling her dog to her side, she walked away from home and into the night.