The memory of her and Malcolm slowly dissipated into the air. Only Hawke and Fenris remained in the dark shed. There were no pigs, he noticed. Perhaps this was a bad year all round.

As she sat there, Fenris thought to himself that he had never witnessed so many painful obscurities happen to someone in such a short amount of time, perhaps since they were in the Deep Roads.

Then his brows came together, as he looked at her, and realised this, the Fade—her Fade—was not unlike a mental process he was intimately familiar with, not unlike sitting in a dark room, carefully and helplessly reliving one bad memory to the next, not unlike a long and heavy brooding one would do in those moments where a cup of tea and a good book would have been a much better choice, or indeed, a nice chat with an old friend.

He then thought of that odd and familiar need he felt to shower her with his own stories, to tell her all that he loved and hated, especially what he hated, and perhaps after, the few things he loved, and have her there, the old Hawke who would sit silently, uninterrupting, and without judgement in the eyes, listen.

He did not notice that he was back in his old armour.

But this was about her now. And with Hawke, it was never about her. There was always an old scratch of unworthiness in her throat as she spoke about herself when they were alone, and he had always looked for the cause in the most obvious places—magic. And magic he knew, and the great difference between her and mages at the hands he suffered at. And in his own way, not necessarily the best way, he knew how to help her with that.

But this was not about magic at all. He was blind and wrong. And now, useless.

About family, about women's hardships, about life, he knew less than nothing.

He swallowed, and said: "Are you alr—"

A chicken came in, clucking curiously.

He closed his mouth and got up. This was his turn to listen, wasn't it? Without judgement? He doubted he would receive the same if he confessed to her all he had done.

Slowly, Fenris stepped towards Hawke. She was still banging the box with her crossed ankles. There was only one strip of light peering through the wall onto her knees.

She saw his spiky gauntlet coming into the light as it gently stopped her knees into place. She looked up at him, the strip of light crossing over one side of his face. She looked at the one eye underneath his white hair staring down at her in a solemn way.

"How about a break?" Fenris said.

"It's fine," Hawke said, looking down.

The lit green eye veered to the right. "For me. I'm feeling a little light-headed."

Her expression immediately softened. "Oh," she said. "Of course."

She wanted to get off the box, but he put his arms on top of it on each side, locking her there. His handsome, inert face came fully into the light.

Well that's a weird time to want a kiss, she thought. He came closer, and looked at her intently, as if he had just met her.

"I can see the resemblance," Fenris said.

"Wha— Huh?" she said, flinching a bit, as she thought he had meant to do something else.

"You take after your father, they take after their mother," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Was it the self-deprecating humour that gave it away?"

"No, the nose hair," he said with a hard, serious face.

Her eyebrows rose in alarm and her hand immediately went over her nose in embarrassment. There was a slight flicker of a grin on his hard face. She scowled and tried to push him away.

"I almost believed you, you bastard!"

Fenris started laughing in an endearing way, resisting her push without effort.

"There's nothing wrong with nose hair. I've got plenty."

"Then you've got enough for both of us. Break's over." She got off the box and walked past his arm.

He laughed softly. "You're such a woman sometimes."

"Meaning what?" she said in annoyed tone.

He turned around to see her and rested his elbows back on the box.

"Nothing," he said with a contained smile.

"You've got awful timing, you know that?" she said, crossing her arms. "This will make the next memory even more annoying to watch."

Fenris's smile died, and he felt a little stupid. He put his hand at the back of his neck and looked down. "I had merely wanted to… lighten up the situation."

"I know," she said with an understanding, bitter tone. "Wait," she said, and uncrossed her arms. "Why did you change yourself in your old armour?"

He scowled. "I didn't." But when he looked down at himself, he was indeed in his old armour. He looked up at her with an expressionless figure.

"Don't look at me, I would never choose that for you voluntarily."

"Oh?" he said. His hands came together, only one elbow leaning against the box, and his legs crossed. "Is it not fashionable enough?"

"It's not practical enough."

"I beg to differ."

"The Fade is timeless, and in worldly terms that means you've got all night to beg, but it won't make it less true."

He scowled.

"You're a serious warrior. That is not armour for serious warriors."

The scowl became dragon-sized.

"Tevinter may be hot and you may be able to ghost through battle, but I recount numerous times where that did not, in fact, help you. You need an actual breastplate, and your arms and legs armoured. Even light infantry would do."

Not one muscle changed on his face.

"You would look very sexy."

He squinted.

"Dully noted," he said in a low, hard voice.

As they came out of the shed, the trees were robbed of almost all the leaves. Myriad of red and golden leaves adorned the wet ground, and a cold wind blew in their hair.

They went back into the house.

"Son, your food is getting cold," said Malcolm as they sat for dinner.

Carver sighed. "I can't eat. I'm too nervous."

"Eat," commanded Hawke. "Tomorrow you'll be terrified."

"What if I misspell my name?"

"Out of all possible misspellings, you could still not do worse than Private Justpainintheass."

"You were fortunate in your blunder," said Malcolm. "Fereldens still have an unnatural hatred for those of Chasind descent. They would have eaten Private Dvorak alive. Plus, Justpainintheass is not entirely a lie."

"And I get invited to all the parties," said Andrei with a smug grin.

"Sadly," said Hawke.

"Ah, don't be so harsh on Rasputin, let him revel in his one accomplishment."

"Rasputin?" Andrei said in outrage. "We are calling me cute names now, are we?"

"If you think not keeping it in your pants is cute, dear boy, then you deserved the punch," said Malcolm with a calm, dominating voice.

Andrei shut up and gulped. He knew his place.

There was a lot of silence.

"Well," said Hawke with a great smile. "What a lovely dinner."

"Indeed, thank you Leandra, it was rather invigorating. I suggest we all go for a walk and see the parade."

"Yes, please," said Bethany sharply.

"You all go, I'll catch up," said Hawke. People looked at her. "Don't look at me like that, you know I have to eat double the amount you do."

"I'll wait," said Andrei as he got up and nodded towards the parents.

They nodded back and everyone went outside.

"Lothering is literally a hundred yards. It's not like I'll get lost," said Hawke, and continued eating away.

"I know," said Andrei and sat back next to her. "But it's hard to get any time alone around here."

"I think that was for the better," said Hawke.

Andrei sniggered. He sat down next to her. "Will you ever stop punishing me?"

He had soft black hair and blue eyes with an unusually engaging expression.

"I don't know. Will you ever reverse time?" she said and looked up. "— mmmm, seems not."

Andrei took her chin gently and brought her face to look at him.

"Kissing you disgusts me," he said with an intense grin.

Hawke laughed softly. "Alright. Let me prepare." She took a fat gherkin and grabbed a huge bite out of it.

Andrei sniggered again and took her mouth full of food to his lips. "Oh, I'm already hating this." He kissed her tenderly. She put her hand on his cheek.

That did it.

Being crushed inside an Iron Maiden would have felt better than the wave of revulsion Fenris was feeling at the sight of him kissing her.

He wanted to ask: Why the hell are you showing me this? He was so angry. In fact, he had never thought he could achieve this level of resentment.

"Come back to my bed," said Andrei softly.

Vishante kaffas. He wanted to spit.

But then a hand brushed his shoulder. The real Hawke shook her head and closed her eyes, as if to say: "Don't even dwell upon it."

He forgot she was there. Valla khal, he did not want her to see how he felt. This was an emotion he could barely begin to understand himself.

"I miss you," Andrei said and brushed his hand through her hair. "You can't honestly look me in the eye and say you don't feel the same."

Hawke chewed vigorously and smiled. "And what if I don't?"

"Then I am a sad man, in a sad room, doing—" he said and grinned, "—sad things."

"That sounded like something else," said Hawke.

"If it sounded like I'm crying myself to sleep, then yes," said Andrei.

"That sounds terrible," said Hawke with a kind tone. She took another bite. "Can I watch?"

Andrei giggled. He came up and dragged her with him. "I will cry and whimper like a little lamb whose mother got ripped apart by a mountain lion if it gets you to my room."

Fenris scoffed.

The real Hawke put a hand over the back of her neck and made a movement with her head as if to say: "We're going where they're going."

He scowled and followed her. The mountain lion would have been kinder.

"I heard that," Hawke said.

"Stay out of my head, Hawke."

"That's rather difficult since we are in your head."

He stopped as she went up the stairs. "I beg your pardon?" he said in a deep voice.

She turned around and descended a few stairs. She tilted her head and scratched it. "It's… complicated."

" 'It's complicated'," he said in a mocking high-pitched voice. He scoffed.

She peered at him angrily. "Is that your best attempt at impersonating me?"

Fenris looked to his right and cleared his throat. "A'm so knackered and dronk, a thenk mayhaps it's tyme tae sleep—oh, look at the wee doggo! Fenris, pet the doggo! Oh, Fenris, I want doonuts—Oi, Chantry Sister—yes, you, hello, can we get five doonuts?"

She squinted at him.

"I'll explain later, we've got to go."

She went up the stairs and he cursed his little curses. As he made to turn around for the next flight of stairs, Hawke came back urgently.

"Ohhh, I don't want to see that," she said. Then she realised how stupid that sounded. She smiled and pointed at him. "Right. You don't want to see that."

Fenris put a hand to his head as if it ached. "I suppose you can't fast-forward in the Fade?"

"Not unless you want to hurl."

"Indeed, I do not know which would make me vomit faster."

"It's not what you think."

"I am sure you are just holding hands like good Andrastians."

"No…" Her face became suddenly stricken with sorrow. She sat down on the stairs and hugged her knees. "He is feeling up my—her..." Fenris rolled his eyes. "…belly."

Oh… His shoulders sank. He could not feel more stupid and twice as dirty.

He sat down next to her.

"We're in your head, but we're also in mine."

"That makes no sense."

"You are not a mage. You cannot go into my mind without a ritual performed by a mage."

"But you can go into mine, and yet that contradicts everything you said before."

"Not quite. You consented."

"Oh, well as long as I consent that makes it okay."

"Well…" she said and scowled. "Yeah."

He said nothing.

"Alright," she sighed and raised her hands for illustration purposes. "I put you to sleep, and then we went into the Fade. We needed a gate to pass into it, and the only one at present was you. But we are not exactly in your mind. Right now we are in mine, in a way. But even that is inaccurate. We are… neither here, nor there."

"So we are in a… pocket universe?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"But wouldn't using me as a gate also require a ritual?"

She pressed her lips. "No."

"No?" he said. "You can just snap your fingers and here we are?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes."

Fenris rolled his eyes hard. "Seriously, just write me a manual. I will pay for the ink."

She giggled. "Fine." She leaned with her shoulder against his. "Does it ease your mind to know I have done this a million times?"

"No," he said flatly.

She smiled, but it quickly died. "Alright, we can go up now."

He rose. "Are you sure you want to do this further?"

"If I don't show you now, I never will."

"What do you mean you're going with him?!" he heard Fade-Hawke shout.

"I've been here for weeks. I need to go back at some point."

"You've got plenty more leave! And even then—" she shouted, but stopped herself.

Andrei sighed and got up from the bed. "Would you rather I was unemployed? Maybe we can dress up our child in Harlequin costumes and make people pay us to leave them alone?"

She said nothing. She was too angry.

"I don't see what the problem is. You're with family."

She got up, almost ready to hit him. "You're my family." Her tone became aggressive. "A concept you are blind to in the face of your promotion, I'm sure."

"You won't stay here forever."

"I shouldn't be staying here even now!" she shouted. "I shouldn't even be here."

She walked around the room with her hand on her forehead.

Andrei crossed his arms.

"I am so truly sorry I punished you with extra hands to help," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Any hand will do, as long as it's not yours. So much for in sickness and in health."

"Do not mock me," Andrei said curtly. "I was fully serious when I asked. You're the one too childish to accept."

"Accept what?" she shouted. "A weekend husband? And even that is far too generous a term."

"Better that then a weekend cack warrior."

"Well," she said in a low voice. "You are certainly a cack."

He uncrossed his arms and walked towards her dominatingly. "I will not be poor like my father. I will not have that life. And my child will not have that life."

"Your child," she said curtly. She shrugged. "And you wonder why I don't accept."

"Punish me for a technicality, please, by all means," he said sarcastically. "Whatever a man could do to prove that he loves you, I feel great pity for the bastard."

"I am not going to be a little workless woman mooching off her parents and crying over an absent husband."

Andrei scowled at her and his face came closer. "You are a woman," he said in a dominating way. "Deal with it."

Her eyes doubled in size, and her breath was stolen. She shifted her weight, and looked him in the eye.

"I am a woman," she said in the most serious tone he'd heard from her. "But you are not a man. A man stays close to his family."

She brushed past him and went for the door.

Andrei gulped and then closed his eyes in pain. "Skip," he said softly. He turned around and caught her hand.

She flung her hand out of his.

"I'm sorry, I… truly am sorry," he said with sorrowful, honest eyes. "I never meant to steal your future away from you."

She looked to her right and said nothing.

"I'm just the bastard who couldn't pull it out in time," he said bitterly, and sat down on the bed with his face in his hands.

Hawke's shoulders sank and she rolled her eyes. She sat down next to him.

"You are a bastard," she said in a military tone. "But I don't want my child to be one. So think carefully what life you choose, because I will have no part of the one you're planning for me."

He thought about this. He smiled bitterly. "You would have made a great Sergeant," he said and looked up at her.

She nodded, staring at nothing in particular.

"Sometimes I forget you're a mage."

Her blank stare cracked and she looked at him. "And you know what that might mean."

He nodded slowly. "I know."

"I'm not going to run alone."

"That's why I'm saying here is good for— just in the meantime. It doesn't have to be forever."

She shook her head. "No. I will not put my parents through this. They have done enough with us. Let them have their old age."

His expression saddened. "Malcolm."

"Regardless," she said, as if that didn't bother her. She sighed.

"What do you think we should do then?" Andrei said.

She stared blankly again. "I think we should stay for a while."

He squinted. "That's what I said."

"Until I get back on my feet," she said. "Then we move to Redcliffe. Or South Reach."

"If we move to Redcliffe, I can still be close."

"Maybe," she said calmly. "Maybe you'll get transferred."

"They won't transfer me, knowing our situation. They wouldn't do it to you, especially."

"Why not?"

He shook his head and smiled. "You didn't just lose the army. The army lost you. Don't doubt that they know it."

She sighed. "I think there are a lot of things we need to consider and we need time for that."

He regarded her for a second. "I am not your enemy," Andrei said softly. He put his hand on her shoulder. "I hope you know that."

She watched his eyes for a good few seconds, pondering, thinking it over.

"No, I suppose—" she said softly, then paused. "I suppose I've just been staring into a mirror."

His lips curled into a bitter smile, and he nodded.

"You're worried you have no other skills," she said.

Andrei scoffed in a self-deprecating manner. "I'm worried about a lot of things. I—" he said and looked into her eyes, "—worry all the time."

She brushed his hair gently. "You want to stay so I could help Danny."

His face became grim and he shook his head. "No… No, I know you can't do anything for him."

She lowered her head and said nothing.

"They say it passes on," Andrei said with regret. "And then I worry Malcolm's illness may also pass on. And then—"

She stopped him and put a hand over his chest. "Do not even go there. You will go mad if you allow yourself to think of such things."

"Is that why you never fall apart?" Andrei said with a bitter smile.

There was a little movement in her shoulders.

Andrei reached with his hand to her back. "You were always the strongest one." He shook his head. "I was the eldest, but you were always the strongest."

Her face melted in an expression of perfect sorrow. And then she pulled herself together.

"Listen here, Andrei," she said, her voice shifting to authority. She looked into his eyes. "I am not going to be your little wife." She shook her head. "Not little. And not your wife." She lifted an eyebrow. "Yet."

"Wait… did you just—"

She moved her head to the side. "Yes."

Andrei couldn't believe it. He scoffed cheerfully. "What changed? Did I just say something good?"

She could see the enormous relief on his face. And her habitual expression, one of childlike sincerity, slowly changed, as if the shadows in the room shifted over it, to better reveal the woman behind it.

"I was always going to do it, Andrei," she said in a placid tone. She shook her head as she said: "Never think I would not do the right thing." Then she tilted her head and grinned a little. "Admitting something you would have never admitted, however, assisted towards it."

Hawke brushed his shoulder and got up from the bed. She opened the door.

Andrei looked up, with a little burden still lingering on his eyes.

The sounds resonated in the room as if somebody sat on top of an organ. "Do you love me?"

She stopped, and looked down.

Andrei couldn't form a coherent thought. His heart was thudding in his ears.

But Hawke turned around, catching the door.

There was a smile on her face as she nodded silently, and then she put a hand on her belly. "I love him more."

Andrei took a deep breath and smiled. "Me too."

A huge weight had resided in Fenris's chest as he watched the memory. Andrei's thoughtful figure had vanished, leaving them alone once again. He tried to gather his wits, left them behind, and looked around the room for Hawke, but she wasn't there. He furrowed his brows and left the room.

Fenris went down the stairs, a little too aware of life.

There was nobody here either.

Fenris walked towards the end of Lothering. There were soft green pine trees painted along the white foam of the river. He looked at the doves ascending through the mist of clouds to the blue sky. There was a flowery fragrance in the air. The neighbouring apricot and chestnut trees were in white bloom. He breathed it in and some faint memory came back to him, of some quiet and lovely place where the scent of flowers had been the very air. Where was that? Does it matter?

"I knew I'd find you here," Fenris said, as he got to the river.

Hawke was in her traditional red and navy sweater, her red hair making a nice cascade over the white patterns. She was sitting on the rocks, like always (always?), throwing one or other in the water.

The rock made a plomping sound as it dissolved into the river.

"How did you know?" she asked calmly.

"I followed the picket fences," Fenris said.

She smiled at that, and looked at him as he sat down.

"I want to take a break."

"'Twas about time."

"Getting bored?"

"Bored is far from what I'm getting," Fenris said. He wove his fingers through the front of his hair. "A headache, certainly."

And that was just sugar-coating the sugar-coat. His head was throbbing with pain, while his heart was throbbing with sorrow and a kind of worry.

She was pregnant. She was going to marry this punchable Andrei. But then Hawke never came with more than her own family to Kirkwall. Andrei left the country to join a Templar Order, and from what he could remember, he did not leave on friendly terms. Something happened between these two events, and there lay the mystery of another gap—the child. He could only think that she miscarried and that's what drove them apart.

After all, this had to be the reason, yes? Otherwise one may think that there was a little Hawke somewhere in the world whose parents had abandoned them. He knew, of course, that something grave was about to reveal itself, something to bring much needed clarity on Hawke's unforgiving nature, but if he sat to think about these things, indeed, he would go mad. Abandoning a child he could never forgive. He would not look at her the same.

"Just think you don't have a headache and it will go away."

The hand stopped in his hair and he moved his head to squint at her. "Hocus pocus," he said slowly, mockingly.

She slapped a childish smile. "Did it work?"

He was about to squint harder, but instead he made a sudden movement, and his expression became one of wonder. "It is gone."

Her childish smile broadened. "Some Fade benefits are hard to dismiss."

But Fenris barely heard her. Without much care, he let himself fall back on the grass.

"So this is spring."

"Real spring, yes."

"It is beautiful." He watched the white petals fall from the trees.

Hawke let herself fall next to him, and he turned his face towards her. "This must be a terrible strain on your mind to maintain."

"No, not really," she said. "I feel wonderful."

"Special Fade abilities and all," he said grumpily. "Still, it is quite the fascination. Feynriel's mind was quite grim and… swampy."

"Oh, this is not the same thing," she said. "Feynriel hid in the actual realm. These are just deliberate visions, illusions."

"The Fade is an illusion," he corrected.

"Mmm, yes, it harbours quite the illusory demons."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Touché."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment.

"Want to see the real Fade?" she said. "Well, arguably."

"Oh… kay?" he said, frowning.

"Actually, that's a good idea," she said, ignoring him and getting up on her elbows. "I need to show you something."

"Oh, really? I did not see that one coming."

"You may want to close your eyes."

He should have closed his eyes.