It was the first warm day of spring, which is to say it was the first cold day of the year according to Fenris's inner thermometer.

Hawke was seated at the wooden table outside, crying. She had her elbows on the table and her hands over her face.

With a little struggle, Malcolm poked his head outside in the direction of the weeping.

"Alright, duck?" he said with a slightly raised voice, but nothing came in response.

He went behind the door, grabbed his light blue wool coat and huge red scarf, and steadily dragged himself towards the shed.

"Alright, pet?" Malcolm kept saying, as if he couldn't quite see where he was going. "What's wrong with you!" he demanded as he approached her. "What's the matter?" Slowly and clumsily, he sat down next to her. "Is this my fault? What did I do?"

The hair on her temples was already wet like mad. She had been crying for a while.

"No, fah-fath—'s not—", she said sobbing. "N-not you."

"Who is it then?" he said and licked his lips. "Did Rasputin say something stupid again?"

She broke into a small chuckle as she wiped away the tears.

"You can't be worried about that every day. You'd have a heart attack," she said.

He giggled hoarsely like an old man would, and said: "Well, yeah, I'm worried. You look heartbroken."

Her hands came off her face. She looked terrible.

"I'm not heartbroken," she said, wiping away another tear. "But I could be. My fault for listening to his mother."

"What's she saying to you?"

Looking down, she remained silent.

Malcolm poked her.

"Aw! What the hell, old man?" she said, as if made out of glass.

"What now, it was just a poke; by an old man! Getting hurt by that seems more insulting if you ask me," he said, although his eyes seemed to be fixed elsewhere.

She scowled at him as she rubbed her arm. "Everything hurts nowadays. And itches. And stings, and generally feels so heavy I have to sit down. And even when I sit down I feel like I have to sit down!"

"Why? Are you pregnant?"

"A—". Her face went straight into alarm.

"I'm just kidding," he said and pointed to his head. "I'm all up there, I promise."

She did not reply, as there was too much air she needed to compensate breathing with. Her face flared with redness.

"I'm sorry, you're right. I am an arsehole." He parted his arms. "Come here." She didn't. "Rabbit, come here."

As she did, Malcolm held her tight, and he rocked her slowly as if she were a child. She buried her head into his arm and said nothing for a while.

"There," he said softly. "Things are terrible, but I'm here." Malcolm had never once said 'Everything will be fine'. His argument was that he had lied so much about the past, if he started lying about the future too, he was sure his kids would bury him in the communal graves along with the other scoundrels nobody wanted to remember.

"She says I have no heart," Hawke said.

Malcolm gritted his teeth and looked up. "And why would she say that to you?"

"Because I took away her 'one good son'."

"Funny. That's about the same line I heard your mother say to me when I kicked you out."

"No she didn't."

"No, she didn't, but I'm sure Esme didn't mean any of it. She's not in her right mind what with Daniel. Anger and despair makes people say things they would never even think otherwise."

"No, you don't understand. It's not only that she doesn't approve of us, she doesn't approve of me."

"You're right. He's marrying up. Terrible idea. He should marry a chipmunk."

"Chipmunk, elephant, a whore with syphilis; anything would do as long as they're not a mage."

"Oh, is that what this is about?" He paused. "Yes, I can see why she doesn't like you."

"Excuse me? You're a mage. She's a mage."

"You are correct," he said, nodding condescendingly. "Thus we are the experts in the likes of why it would be a wildly unwise decision."

"Well." She pulled away. "Thanks."

"Wait, hey, hey, hey—" he said and dragged her back in his arms. "Somewhere deep down you felt that way too. Otherwise you would have been far more enthusiastic about your life," he said with a grace to his voice.

A hush fell over. She merely sighed because he was right. She had been crying because of that too.

"And I am an old, sick, annoying man; I can't afford to be a hypocrite, too. Why, a kind and clever woman decided to take this old annoying mage with her despite being a bad idea, and she gave me the most beautiful children and let me have dogs. My life has been a gift!"

And how beautiful he made it sound. In truth, the eviler and darker feeling in her heart was that she couldn't understand his faith. He'd had no doubts, he'd had no fears; no other ambition save for love. The only thing standing between him and his happiness was the Waking Sea. Indeed, it was as strange a concept as a flying nug.

As she stayed silent, Malcolm brushed the hairs away from her wet forehead.

"And I hope you also know, in your heart of hearts, that no matter what I think—firstly, what's done is done, and, more importantly, I will always support your decisions."

She almost chuckled. "Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Malcolm Hawke, of course, the most interesting person you will ever meet in your life."

"Is that the line you used to woo my mother? Because I would have punched you."

"No, well, she didn't punch me. She just laughed… really loud. Which hurt more."

She laughed a sprightly laugh which, after several moments, turned once more into weeping.

"No, come on, you were all happy kittens and rainbows for a second, now what went wrong in your head!" He held her tightly again.

"The main reason," she sobbed. She took a second to gather her voice back. "She also says I may not be able to ha-have them… Something's w-wrong with me." She broke into tears.

"This was maybe the fourth time I told him," Hawke said from behind, which startled Fenris no matter how many times it had happened before.

She stood up, swallowed, as the figures of the memory vanished from the table. Fenris turned to face her, and as he did, she turned her back to him to avoid his pitiful stare; and then she realized how unlikely it was that his expression was not one of pity, in fact, it was something just short of anger. No, it hadn't been anger.

She turned back. He was still staring, the wind disturbing the snow off the trees. It was concern, not anger.

"Did you… can I even ask?" he said as he approached her, his voice a mix of politeness and heartbreak.

She looked away, and, with a moment's hesitation, she said: "There are," her voice broke for a second, "easier things to discuss about this memory."

"Of… of course," he said thickly, trying to control the trembling in his voice.

She took that in for a moment, this strange countenance of concern, and remembered what she'd told herself before coming to the Fade: What you show him, you show him for his sake. Not your own.

She offered a hand in a gesture to follow her, and they made their way along the pastoral path. Snow-covered trees still towered over the road, the frost just peeling off the branches, and somewhere far away you could hear the low pulse of the river in rhythm with the crows.

"Forgive me, I know this must be hard," she said.

Fenris nodded as though that was perfectly reasonable when in fact it was ridiculous.

"It was a very hard year… not just for me, for all of us. Things piled up. Everyone was on edge, always ready for another disaster. Carver, bless him, wasn't always there to see it."

"Your sister was, wasn't she?" Fenris said. "I can't imagine how she must have felt."

"Worse than you can imagine," she said. "Never mind our problems, she was losing her best friend. Or more." She paused, looking down. "I will never know."

"I… am confused now."

"Why— no, no, not like that," she said with a bit of disgust. "His brother. He was very ill, remember?"

"Yes, now that makes sense," he said, feeling a little stupid. He remembered Daniel's pale, sickly face, and both a kind of tragedy and relief in his eyes as he saw Hawke in Antiva, and how they sent his burning body to the sea.

"He got better the following year, but… I suppose he never really recovered. I think, in a way, he held on just to make contact with us again, after the Blight. I did not tell him Bethany had died in the letter, and when he saw me without her I think he knew, and… let go."

For a moment he merely looked at her. This man was the last of Hawke's loved ones whom she had lost. Was he about to witness the first?

"Despite how hard it must be to relive these memories, I suspect it is easier to do so than to put it into words. I can see that now."

He saw her shrink for moment as she took that in, and strangely surprised.

"I can hardly form words. Every time I dared gather some feeling that passed for courage, no matter how much I tried to string words together, I could not."

"You could not?" Fenris said syllabically, stopping in place. "You've never… Varric knows nothing of this?"

She stopped too, her eyes meeting his with a tense implication.

"I see," he said. The feeling hadn't come yet, but the thought in his head came with a promise of needing to sit down again. "Old demons were not the only things you'd kept locked inside."

"They are a record," she said faintly, the wind blowing her hair away. "A record in my heart, or what's left of it."

With a slight raise to his eyebrows, Fenris let this go by.

"What is simple to say is that the following months, father lost his sight almost completely, and sometimes he would forget even what a pan was for, let alone cook. I found him confused one morning with a plate in his hand, and he asked me where he should put it." She became visibly sad. "But he had his good moments half of the time, and strangely enough in those moments he showed to be capable of the most astounding calculation and perceptivity I'd ever seen in a man. Along with that came his growing more and more wary of Andrei. And this was evident to Andrei as well, which made him visit less."

"What a noteworthy excuse," Fenris said with acid sarcasm.

"I know what you're trying to get at, and while I may partially agree with your sentiment, you don't know everything," she said a little cuttingly.

"Perhaps you are right," he said. "I do not wish to jump to conclusions."

Although he darned well knew the conclusion and would not feel too sad to see it scream and writhe in a fire. Or three. He did not even notice the scenery changed and he was about to go crotch deep into Lake Calenhad.

"Oh…kay," Fenris said and turned around. Hawke seemed to walk up behind him to reach for his crotch, but on better inspection of her hands passing through him he decided this was not his lucky day. A fish was produced from his belly.

"There's the bugger!" Corporal Bangs-Cut-Away-From-The-Mirror shouted. She threw it to shore and it was picked up by an elven woman whose attire seemed better fit for the occupation.

"Do you ever take a break?" the woman said.

"This is my break," Corporal BCAFM said.

"I don't think you know what that means, Corporal."

Corporal Pig Tails turned round slightly. "Would you rather I stopped helping?

The woman thought about this. "Well… weather's nice today, isn't it? Jolly good. Not a cloud on the sky."

"I thought so." She resumed her fish catching. "So, Petra, what's the gossip these days?"

"Not much. Captain Brunswick might get transferred. Some recruit was asking for left-handed spatulas in the kitchens the other day. Bloody idiots." Corporal Circus Reject laughed. "I've got another one but it's about you."

"Whatever it is, it's absolutely true," she said sarcastically.

"Word is you're doing Pain-in-the-ass."

Corporal I-Forgot-To-Roll-Up-My-Trousers accidentally dropped her fish.

"Who said that?"

"Why the horse itself is crying all over town about it."

"Cunt," she said quietly.

"I don't give a flying nug's arse if it's true. I mean, he's a bloody arsehole, but with that face? Don't need to think about anyone else with that face over you. Good for you. "

Younger Hawke seemed to turn round with a hesitant look. "Look, Petra. Don't tell anyone, but… i-it's all a cover up."

"Cover up what?" Petra asked with supressed enthusiasm.

"Cover up the fact that…" young Hawke said reluctantly, "… that he's gay."

"Shut up!" Petra said. "Really?"

"Gayer than a heard of hallas with pink ribbons around their tails."

"No way!"

"Way." She pretended to look sad and concerned. "We grew up together. We came here together. It only makes sense, right?"

"Yes, now that I think about it it's all too convenient," Petra said, putting her detective hat on.

"But please, you must not tell anyone!"

"'Course I won't! You can trust me."

"Thanks," Hawke said, biting her lip. "Shit," she said, looking down. "I dropped my bait somewhere." She dipped her head underwater, and as she emerged, she looked even more horrified. "Oh my god, I was crushing some creature this whole time!" There was a both fishlike and salamanderlike creature in her hands, with pinkish red and blue speckles and three long cylindrical growths on each side of its head. Fenris immediately recognised it as an axolotl. A salamander who never matures, but remains forever a larva in the water. Why on earth… or water rather, would it have approached a human so close to shore was a mystery. How he knew all this was whole question entirely. The axolotl looked as if it was smiling when in fact it must have been in utter pain.

"Throw it here. We can cook it," Petra said.

"No!" Hawke cried. Petra gave her a look that suggested she thought Hawke was insane. "Why did you have to be under my foot? Why did I go in with my boots? Why today of all days? Those are all brilliant questions, however cooking it is not one."

"What? Just let it die?"

Hawke seemed to lose her temper, and her eyes scanned the shore desperately. She came out of the water, grabbed a bucket, filled it and tossed the axolotl inside.

"What on earth are you doing?" Petra asked.

"Taking it to the medics."

"Are you daft?!"

Fenris made to follow her, and the real Hawke joined him with a little wave that suggested they didn't have to rush.

"I take it that's how you came to be a medic?" he said.

"It was, but… that's not what's important to the story."

"Then what is?"

"The creature."

"The axolotl?"

"Yes," she said, frowning her eyebrows. "You have those in Tevinter?"

Fenris hesitated. "Yes." It was true. He hadn't seen one himself, but he didn't really lie. "Why is it important?"

"After I took it to the medic, and after the medic examined me and, eventually, was satisfied enough that I wasn't insane, she examined the axolotl. I'd crushed its leg, part of its neck, part of its head, really."

Fenris listened with a confused look on his face.

"Finally she amputated the leg, and hoped for the best. She took a liking to it, which was good. I'd stop by every now and then and see if it was okay. We called him Bill."

"But why?"

"Because that sounds like a very inappropriate name for a cute aquatic creature, so it's amusing."

"No, I mean… why bother?"

"Because… I don't know. Because it's not food, therefore it's just another living thing."

"Therefore you are soft, is what you're saying," Fenris corrected her.

Hawke shot him a spiteful glance. "Yes. I like animals."

"You like some animals," Fenris said.

"Huh?"

"Please," he said in a deep, condescending voice. "I killed at least twenty wasps for you."

"For me?"

"No, clearly it was for my sake. You know me and my aversion to little things that can't possibly harm me."

"So you killed them just because I was around?"

"No. I killed them so you would stop screaming."

"I wasn't screaming."

"No… You were talking very loudly in repetitive sounds that were not actual words."

You will not take this from me, he thought. I felt like a slayer of dragons killing those things for you, one who has no problem killing anything from giant spiders to actual dragons, and thus you will not take this from me.

"Whatever. Anyway," she said curtly, ignoring him. "The medic made a little aquarium for Bill, and after about a month, our jaws landed somewhere below sea level. It had grown its leg back. And part of its head which got crushed. It was once again a full-fledged happy-go-lucky axolotl."

Fenris listened patiently. Hawke did not seem to appreciate this, because she made an outraged, expectant gesture, as if to say, "Where is your surprise?"

Where was his surprise? It seemed something so ordinary to him. But he felt pressured by the situation, and he said: "That's quite something. How is this important again?"

"It is the only creature I've ever seen that could in earnest fully regenerate limbs. It was… amazing. At once I asked everyone I could, but no one seemed to know about this. One doesn't encounter a lot of axolotls. Apparently most of them become salamanders. In any case, this was an exuberant discovery and at once I thought the Circle of Magi needs to know. The wonders they could do from studying this!"

"Let me guess. You went to the Circle of Magi."

"No. Are you crazy? I asked other people to do it."

"Did they?"

"Nobody wanted to. Medic said 'Sure, take up a transport shift to Highever outpost next time there's one and I'm sure the Sarge won't mind that you make a little stop to the Circle of Magi.' Of course, I made up an excuse and let it go."

"Fair enough," Fenris said expressionlessly. "What did happen?"

"I did let it go," Hawke said with a tense look into the past. "I became with child, I moved back to Lothering, I forgot about it. Then Danny got very sick. And so…" she said with a slow shrug, "I happened."

"We are not going to the medic's tent, are we?" Fenris said darkly.

"No."

Malcolm sighed and gestured for a chair and then sat down. He put his hands on top of his walking stick. There was silence and dread in the air.

Andrei drew himself up and came forward. Malcolm, hearing his footsteps, raised his walking stick as if to push him back, and Andrei stopped in the centre of the room.

"The fruit of my sins," Andrei said with a diction reserved for theatre, "is now before me. I see what my selfish acts have wrought. I see now that what I so thoughtlessly did has had grave consequences for others, and that they have accepted these consequences with generosity and grace."

People seemed to be moved by this, but Malcolm indicated his impatience.

"If you came here to say what I think you want to say, dear boy, and trouble my house, you inherit nothing but the wind."

"I would do nothing without your consent, Sir Hawke. I haven't come into your house with the pretence of any demand. I come with a request."

"And what could that be? Mind you," said Malcolm, "I am prepared to take this stick and beat you to death."

Andrei accepted this with the readiness of a saint that was to be stoned in public.

"I have been given an exceptional opportunity to provide for my future family. Bann Sigurd of Ravensburg is willing to take me in his legion as Staff Sergeant with nearly triple my old salary."

"Ravensburg," said Malcolm, with a tone that seemed to reorganise the syllables so they came out as 'sewage'. He did not congratulate him.

"Yes, sir."

"That city close to the Circle Tower famous for its highly Templar-frequented market district."

"As you said before, the chance of both twins being mages is near impossible," offered Andrei.

Malcolm went into a fury. He rose to his feet, clutching his walking stick.

"You disgrace my daughter," he shouted, "and now you come wanting to go to Templar City to get rich on the off chance that only one of them might be taken away? You now come wanting to divide her children? Divide? You think you are King Maric? If I had my sight I'd kill you. Nothing would stop me from it. I would kill you with my bare hands, and bury you beneath the backyard of this house. Thank your Maker that I'm blind and sick and old and can't tear your heart out! As it is, I order you out of my house, and insist that you never return. The door is barred against you. And allow me to put your mind at ease on this account: these children are legally ours. How will you prove otherwise to anyone, and think what scandal you bring upon yourself if you do not leave here in silence and give up this brash and sick request!"

Leandra and Carver came to him and did everything in their power to restrain him, but with a sharp elbow he pushed them to the side. He swung his waking stick, his blind eyes searching the room before him.

"You come here with your greed and your arrogance before us, who took care of you and your brother when your parents could not, before me who taught you to tell a pommel from a sharp end, before Leandra who fed you better than a king's pig, before your friends who for some cruelly ill-defined reason still like you, and you request from my daughter to risk herself and her children to conveniently fit your thirst for coin under some noble pretext. You've never even asked for my blessing in marriage, yet you have the nerve to come in and ask me this? You think we're the same, so I'd be your 'okay' pal? Oh, how I wanted to be wrong, how I waited and stood silent for all this time, but no more. You rat, you scoundrel, you lewd ungrateful cack!"

And here it was, after twenty years, Malcolm had finally understood how his own wife's father must have felt on that cruel night. Forget the difference of intent, forget the right and wrong of it, forget the wonderful outcome in spite of it. In that moment, he was sure to walk through hell before giving his daughter and grandchildren away.

Leandra was stricken with sorrow, but nothing could touch the look of misery and heartbreak in Hawke. As for Carver, one couldn't tell how he was taking this argument because it was all he could do to put his arms around his father and beg him to calm down.

"I'm so sorry that I caused you pain," said Andrei.

"Caused me pain, you dog!" said Malcolm. He stood still for a moment so that Carver let him go, and with difficulty, he recovered his chair and sat down again, trembling violently. "You have insulted my family. You insult it now again. Get out of it. Go."

Like a reverent trespasser, Andrei calmly walked out of the house and only when his foot touched the road did he take a rock and violently throw it in a tree. The starry night did not much care, nor did the neighbours.

Hawke had come out after a while, not really approaching him, not really saying anything.

Andrei heard her footsteps and vaguely turned his head to the side.

"I'm trying my best, Hawke," he said in a hollow voice.

She nodded towards the ground as if the ground had made a good argument.

"I know," she said. "He's an old man."

As if mellowed by this, he turned around to approach her. "I only—"

"He's not wrong," she said, to which Andrei came to a halt.

"I thought about this very hard. I know what is at stake. I also know full well how strong we are. How strong you are." He gritted his teeth as he looked at the ground. "I'm not the monster everyone is trying to make me appear to be."

"You misunderstand," she said coldly. "He's not wrong about why you had to think about this very hard. Why you gave it any thought at all."

"You don't trust me," Andrei said, angrily studying her expression.

Hawke averted her gaze and nodded towards the cogent ground again. "Your brother needs me. Go back to Redcliffe. Take care of Carver."

"What are you saying?" Andrei said in alarm, blocking her path.

She passed him by.

"For fuck sake, Hawke, you're giving me nothing!" he shouted desperately as he was left behind.

She stopped, and angrily turned around. "I can't think!" she shouted in rage. "I can't think! I can't think! I can't think!"

Andrei rushed towards her, trying to get a hold of her, and in an attempt to embrace her, pushed her head towards his chest.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay if you can't think," he said, holding her head and watching the sky as if he was afraid it would smite them. "We'll figure this out," he said in a gentle voice.

"I tire of that!" she shouted and pushed him away. "I might die. Worse, they might die. Do you understand that, Andrei?! Ever since the second time I haemorrhaged we've known this. A whole month has passed since we've known this, and all you can do is go looking for the next best thing and say 'We'll figure this out'. No." Tears ran down her face. "You don't seem to understand this and I need you to understand this. I need you to, because I can't! I can't think! I'm here. I'm alone. I'm… afraid, Andrei. I am so afraid! I'm crippled with fear."

"I know!" he shouted, and his face became stricken with sadness he tried to shrug off. "Why do you think I pushed for this?" he shouted angrily, his blue eyes deliberately piercing hers. "I know!"

She took air in suddenly, staring at him in horror, her tears taking a pause for his to start. "You are hoping it will be me."

Andrei's expression tensed incredibly, wet and worried and utterly terrible. He'd kept the answer with his breath for far too long. He let it out, sobbing and catching his breath, and no words were needed.

Slowly, trembling, she came to him, catching him, taking his face to her chest, falling to their knees, letting his arms engulf her heavy waist, and once so, he began weeping loudly, and he did not stop.

Fenris watched with horror. He was not startled by her this time.

"Happy you did not jump to conclusions?" she said.

"No," Fenris said flatly.

"No?" Hawke said in surprise. She sat next to him once again.

As he watched the memory vanish before him, he said: "The illusion of him being a scoundrel was easier."

Her lips pressed together as she breathed in. "Yeah… Tell me about it."

But then quite suddenly he realised, fully realised what this meant. The story had come to an end. He did not even know it when he heard himself say in a hollow, ominous voice: "You lost your children." He did not know it until he fully did.

He stopped to look at her, quite expecting her impassive face, her inevitable quiet, as if he sensed the effect of his words. Maybe their sheer impropriety disturbed him. The moment could not be more excruciating if he had struck her.

Yet she didn't turn away. She had merely remained there motionless, hands shoved in her Ferelden sweater pockets.

"Yes," she said, very stern and matter of fact.

He wanted so to hold her. The pain she had carried all these years was excruciating to him.

"The story is not over," she said with the same quiet strength in her voice. She finally looked into his eyes, as if to ask if he could still hold on for one more memory.

Could you? he thought to himself, quite deliberately not saying it out loud.

"Alright. Lead the way," Fenris said, returning her quiet strength.