Hawke pulled the small knife from her boot, looking at it before kissing the handle and offering it up to the driver of the cart. The grizzled man hesitated before taking it and leaning down.
"Don't I get a kiss too, pretty?"
"Of steel, perhaps?" Hawke smiled sweetly and pulled a few silvers from her belt, leaving them on the seat beside the traveller. "Thank you again, messere."
The man harrumphed and cracked the reins of the horse, disappearing toward the city in the distance. Hawke exhaled and turned to Anders.
"That was bloody awful," she grumbled.
"Better than a good walk," Anders murmured, and they wandered to the side of the road. The fields surrounding Ostwick were flaxen stubble and tilled, rich earth at the end of the season. A light fog hung over the rolling fields, and behind them the shadows of the Vimmark Mountains stretched into obscurity.
"Do you know much about Ostwick?" Hawke asked as she patted her hound and they walked through the landholdings.
"Hmm?" Anders said in his distraction, looking to her and shaking his head. "No. Not really. Well – there's a Warden outpost here. And a Circle. And a chantry."
"A chantry?" Hawke said with animation, putting a hand over her heart. "Lucky us indeed, aren't you delighted?"
Anders smirked at her and said, "If anyone else made the jokes you do…"
"I know," Hawke sighed. "They wouldn't be nearly as funny."
The houses grew thicker as they approached the city gates, and the street widened into a lively market. Anders reached for Hawke's hand, and she grinned at him. Hesitating, she took a knee and tugged the collar of her mabari.
"Meet us inside the gates, boy," she kissed the top of his head when he grumbled. "We'll be alright. Can't be seen together, it's for all of our safety."
Huffing a reply, the mabari turned and trotted off into the crowd. Hawke watched him go before something caught her attention, and she tugged Anders along with her.
"Shouldn't we be going to meet him?"
"In a minute," Hawke murmured, and pulled a paper off the market board. Her jaw dropped as she showed it to him and whispered, "I don't look like that!"
"Marian," Anders hissed, tugging the poster from her grasp. The parchment crinkled, and he looked at the damning words upon it. "I shouldn't be so surprised."
"You there," a guard called from nearby, and Hawke snagged the paper back. "What do you think you're doing?"
Anders paled. Hawke cleared her throat and bit her lip before saying, "Well, I was certain I'd seen this pair recently."
The guard appraised her and crossed his arms. "You've seen them? The Kirkwall Champion and the apostate who blew up the chantry?"
"Maker's mercy," Hawke said, putting a hand to her breast. She looked to Anders, a sparkle in her pleading eyes. "To think, we ourselves might have been endangered!"
"Fortunate indeed," Anders coughed softly.
Hawke pointed at the parchment, nodding and handing it back to the guard, "They had a massive dog with them, smelly thing. They were heading north, a day's travel outside the city. Asked us for food and… Blessed Andraste, I cannot believe it was them! Long blond hair, just like that. He… he seemed so nice."
"It's alright dear," Anders said and patted her hand, trying not to roll his eyes.
"A day's travel, you say?" The guard asked, and Hawke nodded. He produced a silver for her, and she palmed it as he said, "You've done a great service to the Maker. Thank you, serah."
"Of course," Hawke said, and finally let Anders steer her away. When they had gotten far enough, she dropped the hand from her mouth and laughed.
"Be quiet," Anders murmured, trying not to laugh as they entered the city.
Hawke dropped a few coins in the merchant's hand, smiling thinly as she took the cloak. She walked back down the street to where Anders was staring up at the sky. The dark clouds seemed more menacing in the twilight, and the market was closing.
"Here," she softly said, and he pulled out of his distraction as Hawke threw it around his shoulders.
"We should be saving our coin."
"You're cold, and I can always get more." Hawke smirked, thumbing the light beard on his chin. "And unfortunately I can't warm you up the way I prefer right now."
Anders kissed her cheek, slipping his hand in hers. His grace huffed and drew their attention, and Hawke squeezed his hand.
"Templars," she whispered. "Let's move."
"They're looking for mages," Anders murmured, unable to look away from the clutch of armoured zealots moving towards them. "What did I tell you? It wasn't just Kirkwall."
"Love," Hawke hissed, pulling his hand, "we'll help them, I promise. But when we're ready."
Anders shook his head as the mabari nudged him in time with Hawke's tug, and they scurried into a side alley as he said, "What is this? You cautioning me against leaping into the fray?"
"Yes, yes, don't die of shock now," Hawke murmured as she led them over the broken cobbles and filth to the next street. She pushed him out of the way as someone overhead emptied a chamber pot. "Just don't let - hey!"
A pickpocket jolted and slipped on the wet stone as Hawke took off after them, and they'd scarce made it to the next alley before she threw herself at him. The young man squealed, crushed against the wall as Hawke's blade pressed up under his chin.
"Nice try," she hissed, snagging the meagre coin purse back. It disappeared from sight as she called out. "How's that for throwing myself into things?"
Anders sighed, and her mabari growled and sat beside her, glowering up at the thief.
"L-let me go, please don't feed me to that thing!"
Hawke chuckled coyly, making the man yelp again as she nicked a spot with her dagger and drew a drip of blood. "Oh I don't know, you don't look all that tasty. What do you think, your grace?" The hound huffed and shook his head, ears flapping. "Seems like it's your lucky day, isn't it?"
"Y-yes, messere, please, yes I - I'm sorry!"
"Of course you are, of course you are," Hawke purred, still pinning him against the wall as she dextrously toyed with her dagger. "I might let you run on your way if you tell me something."
"Anything messere, I swear!" he cringed against the side of the house, as her mabari growled again.
"Where would I find the seediest, smelliest, most disreputable tavern in Ostwick, mmm?"
"Next quarter," the man said with mild confusion. "The Bitter End."
With a flick of her wrist, Hawke threw the man out of her way, and the thief stumbled to stay standing as she said, "Good lad. Off you go." When he hesitated, her mabari barked and he scrambled away.
"What good does that do us? This isn't the time to drink."
"Well," Hawke said as she wiped the drip of blood from the tip of her dagger. She smiled sweetly and continued, "It's a start?"
"Sorry, boy," Hawke said, ruffling her mabari's ears as he plunked his backside down in the street outside the tavern. "You know how they feel about dogs. Watch for our favourite friends, mm?"
The mabari grumbled and turned his back on her, watching down the street with particular disdain.
Anders kept on Hawke's heels as she pushed into the shady tavern, the air reeking of sweat, ale, and other savoury delights. He pressed his lips in a fine line, dipping by her ear to say, "Lovely choice, dear."
"I knew you'd like it," Hawke replied with a smirk, and kept a hand on her belt as she walked to the barkeep. She tapped a few coppers down and motioned for a drink.
Leaning comfortably on the counter, Hawke took up the glass and drank deep, emptying it before grabbing the second flagon. "What?" Anders was staring at her. "Want one? I'm sorry, I should have asked."
"No," he replied, almost grinning.
"Good, I didn't really want to share," Hawke said under her breath, swallowing a burp.
Anders let his eyes roam and crossed his arms as Hawke nursed the second drink with greater temperance. He wandered through a few of the tables. It wasn't long before Hawke heard raised voices behind her, and she downed the rest of her drink, spinning to see a bedraggled man clutching Anders by the collar.
"Pretty boy like you shouldn't be in a place like this," the man growled, pushing Anders back a step and knocking over a chair. "Getting' in people's ways."
"Right," Anders said, clearing his throat. "Hey, fancy that, look -"
The man turned his head into Hawke's right hook, and his head snapped back with a crack. As he dropped Anders, she followed through and kneed him in the groin, getting off another punch before he fell back and knocked over a barrel. The tavern fell quiet as he huffed and struggled to his feet.
"Don't touch what's not yours," Hawke said, flexing her fist as he got up.
"You bitch, walking in here like -"
"Why don't you get the nice lady a drink?" There was the defined click of a loaded crossbow.
Hawke turned, keeping Anders behind her as a grin blossomed on her lips. "And who might that be, but my favourite dwarf!"
"Naturally," Varric replied as he kept Bianca trained on the man. He motioned towards the bar with his babe. "Go on then, some whiskey for us mm? Back to your vices, people."
Hawke shook her head, stooping to embrace Varric with a sigh. "And already getting me drinks. I knew I missed you for a reason."
"And I knew you'd be able to find me," Varric chuckled in reply, giving her backside a smack and motioning towards where Bethany sat in the corner of the tavern. "Let's settle in and figure out what problems we're going to cause next."
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Hawke said with a soft laugh as Bethany stood up into her embrace. She sighed. "Thank you for taking care of her."
"Hey, I was saving my own hide," Varric replied with a wink at Bethany. "Easier not to try and deal with you, Hawke, if I let something happen to Sunshine."
"Gee, thanks," Bethany murmured.
"Yes," Hawke chuckled, looking at her sister again. "You're looking lovely. Stand out in here like a sore thumb."
Anders cleared his throat, glancing back at the man who'd grabbed him - and was now paying for their drinks and nursing a black eye. "Don't suppose there are rooms here? Get us out of the public eye?"
"Of course, of course," Varric sighed, flashing a smile and offering a silver to the barmaid. "These and another round to my room."
They ate and drank in the cramped room, and Bethany passed out from the whiskey before too long. It waned into the wee hours, and almost seemed like old times when Anders took half of the rickety bed and fell asleep while Hawke and Varric kept drinking. They crept up onto the roof of the tavern and stared at the stars, lubricated and half-eyed.
"I've spent all these years doing things for a reason," Hawke murmured, hugging her legs as she leant against him. "Do you remember the qunari mercenary? The one who's name meant nothing?"
"He frequented the Hanged Man - of course I remember him," Varric said with a smirk.
"He said something to the effect that - that rich people don't have jobs. They have causes." Hawke exhaled heavily, shaking her head. "What is the point of any of this anymore, Varric? Of everything we've been doing?"
"I thought that would have become apparent the first night we went hungry in the hills."
Hawke glanced at him and her head lolled sideways.
"Survive," Varric said, giving her hand a squeeze.
"I'm not sure that's enough for me," Hawke slurred.
Varric chuckled darkly. "That doesn't really surprise me, beautiful."
"I miss being stupid and immature," Hawke said after a bit, and she sighed. "I miss doing something for the fun of it. Even when we were poor, I could always be an idiot."
"Well, don't you worry your pretty littlehead. I'd say you've still got plenty of time for that. And we're well on our way to being flat broke."
"Always so reassuring," Hawke said and closed her eyes, letting her head plunk onto his shoulder.
Varric steeled his arm around Hawke and gave her a squeeze. "Yes, yes, I know, messere."
"We have all the bright ideas, you know," Hawke murmured. "Drinking on rooftops and such."