They need to leave Kirkwall. Tonight. Now. But he's not listening to her. They'd walked back from the coast silently, hand in hand. As they reached Kirkwall she held his hand fiercely, possessively, glowering at anyone that came close to them. Scenarios ran through her head, how had this happened? He was the strongest and most paranoid mage she'd ever met, stronger and more paranoid than her Dad, and blood magic had been enough to capture him? Panic and fear set her chest thumping, her heart beating it's way upwards making her throat throb with unspoken terror.

"It's getting worse, at least if we're in Ferelden we might be able to make a difference."
He looks up at this, and she can't quite make out his expression. They've taken the argument up to the bedroom, not that there was anyone to overhear them, she needed the security of the close setting. When that thought had hit her, that the house could have been breached, she'd demanded Bodhan and Orana bar the cellar door and lock all the windows. She knew if a mage really wanted in they'd get in, but it comforted her to know that it would make it difficult for the templars.
"I am making a difference here, and so are you." She'd think he was trying to placate her if he wasn't so sincere.
"I'm making it dangerous,"
"It was always dangerous,"
"Honestly? They took you because you're 'one of mine'!"
"I could have dealt with them" She doesn't quite catch his words at first.
"But you were just laying there." Did he let them catch him? But before she can process her thoughts the words that have been lodged in her throat for hours finally break loose, thick with the heavy breath that follows them "I thought you were dead."
"They couldn't, I mean, well, Grace might have tried, but they wouldn't hurt me."
She looks at him, unable to quite make sense of what he's saying. She knows his work brings him in close contact with mages fleeing the circle, but if he thought that would save him from a crazed blood mage then he was more naïve than she'd thought possible. And no she refused to entertain the only other option that presented itself.
"You heard King Alistair, you'd be protected – a Grey Warden - Outside of the Circle - he basically invited you to Denerim right there." She's pacing, still in her full armour, reluctant to remove it, it's the only thing holding her together. She's been threatened in her one weak point. And if they knew he was her weakness, people she's barely met, so do others. We need to leave.

"We need to leave."
"No."
"This isn't a discussion, pack your bag, be ready in half an hour." The door slams on the twelve year old Hawke, all tears and tantrums at being wrenched from yet another home, yet another group of friends, all because Bethany can't keep control. It doesn't matter that Beth's only seven, it doesn't matter that no one saw, that it happened was enough for them to have to leave. Again. Burning with righteous anger that her life was being destroyed she slipped her hunting knife into her belt, tucked her hair into her collar, and climbed out of the window. She made it to Denerim and spent the next twelve months stealing, hiding, working for whoever would give money to a child that didn't involve being touched; she'd realised early on the sort of people that wanted to touch her, but they'd not been prepared for the knife in which ever soft squishy part was nearest to her, so eventually they left her to her own devices, preferring easier prey. When she missed them she'd spend whole days in the Chantry crying; the sisters left her alone, the show of emotions either embarrassing them or simply deciding that she had nothing to donate and wasn't worth their time.
She caught wind of their names in the market one day and she was struck cold with fear. He'll be so angry. But she needed to see them, needed to know they were alright, it didn't mean she was going back, she'd never go back, so she followed the couple who had spoken their names. Quietly, carefully, moving through the crowds and shadows unnoticed; they climbed the stairs to the alienage and she felt exposed, there was no cover across the bridge and the children here were hostile. But she could see her Dad in the distance, and before she knew what she was doing she ran. She ran straight into him before he had time to see who it was, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. She heard the dull 'uff' as she knocked the breath out of him, moments later the gasp, and then he lifted her up and crushed her against his chest.
"Why didn't you come for me?" The anger, the frustration exploded out of her, a years worth of hurt finally found direction as she beat her fists against his chest as he held her close, pressing her against him until she fell to sobbing. "I just want a home."

They moved to Lothering that Spring, and she stayed there for seven years before joining the Kings Army. That was the longest she'd stayed anywhere, until Kirkwall. The least tolerant town in the whole of the Free Marches was where she and her family had settled, where her sister and mother were buried, where she'd met him, where she'd fallen in love, and where she'll happily flee if it means he's safe. Now she understands why they moved so much. The urgent need to protect drew everything into sharp focus, in her mind she already had a short list of bare essentials. Denerim, lets see if King Alistair would actually help. She could turn her hand to just about anything – perhaps being known as the Champion of Kirkwall would have a practical use for once? She's looking at him, "Please, I promise I'll never let anything like that happen to you again but I can't keep that promise here, please Anders, it's too dangerous, please, lets leave."

He looks up at her, she's terrified, she's unravelling unlike anything he's ever seen, pure frayed energy, agitated, hurting, and the focus of it is him, and it twists inside him, grasping his heart, freezing it in place. It's begun, he's already breaking her heart, and it's only going to get worse. He shouldn't, he oughtn't, but he can't see her like this. Even as the words form he knows this isn't going to help, not in the long run, but here, tonight, she'll be calm, she'll be happy, "Alright, but next month."
Relief floods her face, "Next month? Can we go sooner?"
Already the lie feels too big, he's never lied to her before, not directly. There have been things which it would be dangerous for her to know, for her to be involved in, but a bare lie? This isn't right. He shouldn't be doing this. But telling her the truth would be so much worse, he hopes she'd try to stop him, but what if she wants to help? He couldn't do that to her, he couldn't corrupt her too. And looking at her tonight, she might just want to help. A glimmer of hope swells in his chest, but is swiftly crushed beneath the weight of the lies that start pouring out of him, she'll never trust me again. "There's a couple of things I need to take care of – infact I need your help with something, but that can wait until the morning." The words come out thickly and he can't meet her eyes, he hopes she hasn't noticed. He looks back up to her and she's stopped bristling, and there, there's a tentative smile on her face. If nothing else, he knows he can do that for her. With lies. "Now, what will we do in Denerim?"

"We'll make a home."