Hawke sat perched on the bottom step of one of Kirkwall's many stone staircases, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined. He stared ahead at his companions who looked a little worse for wear after the battles with Orsino and Meredith. Merrill had a bandage between her teeth as she attempted to wrap her wounded arm. Isabella dabbed gently at a cut above Fenris' brow. Aveline and Varric chatted quietly while eyeing their bloodstained weapons with disdain.

Hawke released a sigh at the sight of them. Two companions were missing: Sebastian, who had taken off in a rage with a promise of vengeance, and Anders, Hawke's dearest companion of all. Perhaps he could have prevented this unfavourable situation if he had paid closer attention to what the man had been planning.

Hawke jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and glanced back to see his younger brother standing there, still dressed in Warden clothing.

"Thank you for your assistance, Carver. You were a great aid in battle," Hawke announced, pushing the corner of his mouth into a weak smile; it was the most he could manage. Carver sat down beside him, mirroring his posture, hands lacing in front of him.

"I'm glad. Though, that's not what I came to talk about," he admitted.

"Oh? And what would that be? I assume you'll be heading back to the Wardens after this."

"Well, yes, I am, but…" Carver trailed off and followed Hawke's gaze toward his companions. He knew his brother well enough to know exactly where his mind was.

"I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye, brother. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry about Anders."

The comment was enough to steal the air from Hawke's lungs, and he turned his head just a little to take in the sight of his brother. His features were etched with sorrow as he continued to stare straight ahead, mouth firm but sad. Hawke blinked and averted his gaze again, trying to hide just how shocked he was that Carver had not only recognized his pain, but was also showing this level of compassion.

"I didn't think you had any great love for Anders," Hawke said quietly. It had been hard not to notice how the bickering would escalate every time the pair of them were together—the mages versus templars arguments, the times when Carver outright stated that he didn't like 'the surly mage' at all.

"No. I couldn't stand him, to be honest," Carver said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny smirk. "But he made you happy," he continued, voice gentle, giving his older sibling a gentle nudge with his elbow. Hawke flashed a brief smile that died even quicker than it had appeared.

"He did," Hawke breathed. "But... he should have told me of his plans. Perhaps we could have worked out a better solution together. Who knows what will happen to him now. If the templars don't find him, Sebastian will."

Hawke swallowed hard, one painful realization coming to him now: maybe it would have been kinder to end Anders' life himself than forcing him to spend his life on the run, in constant fear of being found. And once he was found, it was unclear whether he would be punished—tortured, even—for his crimes, or whether his end would be swift.

"You spared his life. You must have thought he would do some good with that second chance," Carver stated, raising a brow, as if hoping Garrett would share his thoughts from that moment he'd told Anders to leave.

Hawke paused, mulling over those words. He supposed what Carver said was true. If there had been any doubt in his mind that Anders was a good man at heart, and that his intentions really were to make life better for the hundreds of mages who had suffered, then he wouldn't have let him walk free. But he knew Anders, had known him as a friend and intimately as a lover. Anders wasn't evil—far from it. Even if his methods were extreme, he had done only what he'd felt needed to be done to ensure the safety of people like him.

"I doubt he'll be making any more bold moves like that for a while, if ever," the elder brother agreed. "Perhaps he will atone. Someday. Somehow." With those words, he found himself picturing Anders somewhere in the underground, teaching a group of young mages how to defend themselves, that kind and caring nature coming out in his encouraging words and gentle smile—as seen when treating his patients at the clinic.

"You should follow him." Those four words were never what Hawke would have expected to hear. He gaped at his brother in disbelief.

"Follow Anders?"

"Be fugitives together. I know it doesn't sound like much of a life, but... I don't know. With him gone, what's left for you here in Kirkwall?" Carver's question couldn't even be met with an answer, for there was none. Aside from the estate—which would no longer feel like home without Anders' warm smile to greet him—Kirkwall had nothing to offer that Hawke couldn't find elsewhere.

"I'll admit, I'm rather baffled by this," Hawke lightly chuckled. "You think I should live on the run with a mage you can't stand?"

"With the man you love?" Carver reiterated, simply. "Yes."

Hawke lifted his brow again, trying hard to comprehend. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as Hawke could remember—Carver always grimacing about having to walk in his older brother's shadow, or hating the fact that his brother had magic within him. But was it possible that his years as a Grey Warden had changed him, matured him into a man who was no longer too proud to want the best for his kin?

"I did choose to let him walk free. I suppose that's only a kindness if I remain at his side, and help keep him safe," Garrett softly considered.

"Brother, I've heard things… horror stories about what templars do to mages. And after what Anders has just done, he's going to suffer a fate far worse than the average mage. If you truly care about him, then I think you should try to keep him safe. He may be strong, but he's unlikely to survive without someone watching his back," Carver said, voice low, brows still furrowed with disquietude. He watched as his brother's stiff lips curved into a soft smile, the gentlest of chuckles escaping him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

"Then I'd best be off. Give the others my regards, will you?" Hawke stood, brushing himself off and gazing down at his younger kin. Carver stared up at him, slightly wide-eyed.

"Me?"

"I'm not one for long goodbyes," Hawke shrugged. Carver glanced between him and their companions, then gave his brother an assuring nod.

"Take care."

"And you as well, brother," Hawke said, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder before heading up the steps. "And Carver?"

The younger man glanced behind him to see his brother partway up the stony stairs, his eyes gentle as he stared back at him.

"Thank you. For sending me down the right path," Hawke smiled.